My Everest

Mountains are big and I am not. This has been my most predominant thought staying in Mt. Cook. At the base of the largest mountain in this hemisphere (where Sir Edmund Hilary spent a lot of time) there is a small town to support a resort and the people taking care of the national park and that’s it. We stayed at a YHA hostel, again with all six girls packed together, and one of the guys so that he didn’t have to share a bed. The hostel really reminded me of dorm life at Northland with weird savory smells coming from everywhere mixed with patchouli and unwashed kids sprawled in every spot of sunshine and creatively increasing coze factors of the less sunny spots.

On the way, we stopped at Lake Tekapo and Pukaki which because of rock flour and light reflections were the most turquoise lakes (well, pretty well only turquoise lakes) that I’ve ever seen. It would have been nice to linger at each lake—they had almost the same sort of pull and majesty of Lake Superior.

At Mount Cook we took a boat tour to see icebergs at in the lake at the base of the Tasman Glacier. Twenty-five years ago the lake that we were in, Lake Tasman (one of many, I’m sure) didn’t exist. The actual size of the ice chunks didn’t become clear until we saw another boat across the lake—icebergs are big and I am not. Our crew took up almost an entire boat, but there was one lone traveler with us.—Kathy. Kathy had broken her foot and was on her way to teach English at a co-op farm in Japan. She was very kind in that eccentric middle-aged lady sort of way and had a stellar sun hat. She got on well with our crew.

That evening we took a 10ishK hike through the Hooker Valley—across two suspension bridges and down some “trails” that can only be described as “not trails.” One part was literally a hunk of rock set at about a forty-five degree angle with a very rickety chainlink fence separating one from the raging river below. It was an adventure and the valley was filthy gorgeous with yellow St. John’s wort, purple lupine, ox-eyed daisies, and other European flowers. Well, it would have been pretty if introduced species didn’t irk me so.

The other event of note involved trading a tomato to a young Japanese couple for a small bowl of really yummy red soup with bitty prawns and some veggies—all without the use of vocal language!

All in all, a lovely place to visit. A lot of LOTR battle scenes were filmed there. Take a peek if you ever get the chance.