Pack Travel Part II

Much of the area known as Canterbury near Christchurch is flat. Like straight-as-an-arrow highway bracketed by miles and miles of roaming sheep. For us, travelling in a rented 2005 Silver Nissan Wingroad, it's all we saw heading west from Christchurch for a solid hour. But then a transformation occurs. It's gradual at first:  a cloud-touching outline of a distant jagged peak, a steadily more windy road now meandering through rolling hills.

By the time we reached Lakes Tekapo and Pukaki right in the center of the South Island, we were lulled into the seemingly steady and irresistible pull of the mountains now suddenly drawn so near. A slight curve over a rise and we immediately snapped out of our pacified state. Carved from ancient glaciers and made larger by the human installment of local dams, these lakes provide utterly stunning foreground for the nearby mountains. 

This type of water, which we encountered several times that day, always turns heads. It's color is magnificently blue, the type of blue I want people to think my eyes look. But up close, the water is clear, crystal clear, and frigid to the touch. After a night of camping amid sandflies and dust, the cold water is a brutally effective way to both wake up and feel remarkably cleaner.

Unperturbed and stretching into the distance. Incidentally, great rock skipping locale.

Joe approves.

That night we spent in the wonderfully named Twizel at a holiday park with showers! The lakes above sit just to the south of Mount Cook, New Zealand's highest peak. And the next night, that was our destination. From Twizel it was a beautiful and pleasant drive up past Lake Pukaki, into the valley below the mountain range:

What could he possibly have made us stop for in this desolate valley...

Oh, that.

After settling Keegan in to his camping spot for the night, we started on our overnight track. The goal for the day/night was a 3-3.5 hour hike directly up the side of a mountain across from Mount Cook, gaining roughly 1000 meters during the climb. This would be accomplished with heavy overnight packs, the destination being a hut at the summit where we bunk down for the night. The first 1.5 hours of the hike consisted of just going up stairs, roughly 2200 of them - great butt workout. The next hour was a scramble up a very crudely marked path consisting of clambering and scrabbling and drabbling (okay now I'm just making up words) over alpine tuft/rock mixtures, boulder fields, and even some patches of snow. And then we got to do it all again (though downwards) on the descent the next day. 

I like to think I take pictures with a story in mind, a classic 5 act structure providing an intro, crescendo, climax, decrescendo, and resolution. Here are my pictures to tell this story:

Intro. Three smiling fools before their bodies turn to hardened and sweat-soaked machines.

Crescendo or rising action (see what I did there?). Lee and Joe lag on the last snow/ice field. C'mon guys we're so close!

Climax or summit. See we actually went there.

I'll pause here to describe the view from the hut, since pictures will not do it justice. Or maybe Joe's pictures will, but I don't have access to those yet. Sitting on the deck of Mueller Hut, the view in a solid 270 degree arc spanning west to east consists of mountains, all over 2000 meters in height. It's...well, spectacular. The hut view made me feel both big and small: because of their immensity, the mountains seem extremely close, as if one could reach out and dust off some hanging snow drift. Yet every 20 to 30 minutes a deep rumbling, almost thunderous, sound from one of the plethora of peaks would sweep down to the hut. These were avalanches, a result of the summer New Zealand sun beating down on these lofty peaks. Small though they were, they imbued me with a feeling of insignificance that only mountains and a clear night sky can create. Not a lot of words were exchanged during these long sits.

The only way to show you what I was looking at and that I was there. #reverseselfie

Early the next morning I scampered up nearby Mt. Ollivier to get the hut and a tiny full moon together. Fog makes image blurry. Good morning world!

Decrescendo or falling action (but no actual falling). Same snow field as day before, 8 am start. Cold and dewy. 

Resolution? We didn't get injured (too badly, Lee fell through some snow) or die. As we like to say at the end of a hike, 'Alive!'

Cheers!

Bonus:  This wild man and his wild hair gained some water weight on the descent from Mueller Hut:

Is he that photogenic or do I just really like pictures of him? Both.