Tiki-Tour Part 2
Created | Updated Mar 18, 2012
2: Mount Cook and the Tasman Glacier
Towards Mount Cook
After the late night at Mount John Observatory (see Part 1),
most of the party went their own ways, while eight of us made an early start (just a bit too early,
actually) and headed off on a wiggly drive West, then quite a bit Southish, then North a bit, then West
again, then North a lot – many times the crow's flight distance. We ended up at The Hermitage
tourist centre which houses the Sir Edmund Hilary Alpine Centre and a hotel, also a good cafe/restaurant, and is near the base of Mount Cook.
You'll know, from my various maunderings, that New Zealand is Aotearoa, (the Land of
the Long White Cloud). Adding to your esoteric knowledge, Mount Cook, its tallest mountain
(3,754m, 12,316ft), is Aoraki, (the Cloud Piercer). It used to be a bit taller but some years
ago about 30m (100ft) fell off, leaving it with a sort of leaning crescent-moon-shaped top, when
viewed from South and West (ish), if you're close enough. (Remember that bit.)
To the Lake...
Coffee and a sticky bun or sandwich, then... we'd been pre-booked on a trip to Lake Pukaki and the
Tasman Glacier and this entailed a coach trip, a half-hour walk on a very rough and wiggly (both
lefty-righty and uppy-downy) track. Then a boat ride on the lake, necessitating lifejacket (provided
for us), warm waterproof clothing and sunscreen (we were warned in advance). It's cold out there
and you can – and do – get sunburned under your hat-brim, from sun reflecting off the water.
It seems that the (February 2011) earthquake that affected Christchurch so badly also caused (or
contributed to, or completed) a calving of an iceberg of some 30,000,000 tonnes (or tons) from the
glacier – yes, a thirty million tonne calf (about 100m/330ft of its summer length).
Some weeks before our visit the glacier had calved again – another three million tonnes worth of
berg. Both those calvings were full-depth break-offs from the fiord floor 550m (1,800ft) under the
lake to 6 or 7m (20 ft or so) above, (that would be 50m/160ft in winter) and some 600m wide. In
between times, there are (small?) bits continually falling off.
That mind-boggling information brought home, yet again, the effects of current global warming –
it's receding at a rate upwards of 150m (say 500ft) a year.
... and the Glacier
Our guide, at the helm, talked us through the boat ride while taking us a goodly way around the
north end of the lake (Pukaki) and bringing us up close and personal to some of the pieces of that
latest calving. The lake temperature at the surface was around 3 or 4 degrees centigrade (on this, a
bright sunny day) so that many of the bergs had recesses just above the surface, evidence of slow
but sure melting.
We didn't go near any of those as they're unstable and liable to tip over to find a more comfortable
position to float in.
Many of the bigger lumps showed evidence of that, some, more than one position... Most of the
biggest lumps had dark stripes, from having been at or near the glacier's surface and collecting dust
and dirt on the way down the mountain while some had tipped over, leaving their dark areas at
various angles.
Underneath the dirt, though, it's pristine, a beautiful translucent pale bluish. There appear to be
vein-like threads in, which are little streams of air that appear after some time of being near the
edges of the lumps and have had a chance to relax from the pressures of their previous, inside-the-glacier existence.
We were taken close enough to a few of the smaller, clean, pieces (without evidence of that
recessing) to collect a few hands full of about ice-cube-sized bits to feel – and to taste. (You may
inform me that water doesn't have a taste. You may inform me of that again but I still say that
those lumps of water tasted better than any other ice has tasted, from many glasses on many
meanderings).
On a couple (or so) occasions, he (the guide) opened the throttle for a bit of excitement – and a tight,
sprayful curve, after which he apologised for mis-estimating the effect of the wind around the edge
of that big lump of ice. Some of us believed him, first time – though they were squeals rather than
screams.
He didn't take us up close to the glacier face because it hadn't been checked for loose bits (could it
ever be, reliably?) and that area hadn't yet been surveyed for hidden lumps. He told us that but at
least one of us got the feeling that it's standard practise.
The moraine that lines the edges of the lake seems to last a very long time without melting
completely, getting gradually thinner and lower further from the glacier face. In one place there
was a hole in the top and a glimpse of blue ice on the side. One assumes that most of the (dark,
dirty) moraine provides more in the way of insulation than of sun absorption and warming of the
underlying ice.
Boat Trip Done – the Way Back
Back on shore, hand in the lifejackets ...did we enjoy? Yes. Any complaints? Not a one.
Then that walk back to the hermitage, more uphill than down this time, though no one had noticed
it being downly on the way to the lake. Not many warm-and-waterproof coats stayed fitted to arms
and backs.
More coffees, more snacks (or meals) and a good look around. There's plenty to see and do, for at
least half a day, including but not only, stunning views, a 3D movie and a full-dome planetarium.
I hesitate to recommend the Hermitage just for the visitor centre as it is a long way from anywhere
else – but this trip ought to have been on our bucket list – and it is now (or was), as we wrote it in
and ticked it off in one unbroken, fluid movement.
I hesitate – but if you happen to be passing the south end of Lake Pukaki and have 60 odd miles plus
a few hours to spare...
Then it was the long drive back to Tekapo, 150km/90miles or so, for the second night of our Tiki-tour prior to going South again to Arrowtown, near Queenstown.
Have I mentioned the scenery? No? Oh. There was rather a lot of it all the way down. It's pretty
much there wherever you go – and it's all rather beautiful.
Now I shall impart some invaluable background ambience that's not normally easily accessible:
Imagine yourself as a tourist or, even, in my place as a Kiwi still under training, in that party of
proper Kiwis... Early in the trip, on the way to Aoraki from Tekapo, an hour or two from starting
out, pausing at a vantage point and looking in the direction of our destination:
"Is that Mount Cook?"
"Don't know"
"Yes"
"Don't think so"
"Where's the map?"
"Doesn't matter – we have plenty of photos of what we thought might be it"
