It's official — the Expedia servers finally cranked out an itinerary and flight schedule that works with our budget and we're leaving NZ next week — first to Tasmania for two weeks and then hopping back over the Pacific (13 hours of flying, can't wait for that...) to Buenos Aires, Argentina.
It came together all too easily, so we're taking that as a sign — go with the flow and the flight deals.
Mui bueno!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Willaby Wallaby Woo
This town is crazy. Downright wacky and filled with the most fascinating folk we've yet encountered. Our visit to Waimate's EnkleDooVery Korna, where Gwen Dempster-Schouten's orphaned wallabies live, is no exception.
Wallabies are considered a pest round these parts and are oft made into Wallaby Pie, but not here at Gwen's safe haven. Many, if not all, of the 70 plus wallabies that call EnkleDooVery Korna home have been hand raised from wee babies (when they were tacked up in cotton sacks substituting as pouches on her kitchen wall).
Wallabies of all ages (one year to sixteen years of age) live in enclosures that she has built. Some live alone (like the elderly blind fellow) and some live with buddies (like the Bachelor Boys, the Shy Sheilas, and the Luckless Trifecta) in the dozen or so enclosures. The idea is, you take a leisurely wander through all the pens doling out treats and patting the wallabies as you go.
I think it is us who get the treat though, patting and chatting to these affable little creatures!
Back at the main office area Gwen treats us to a visit with her baby possum Stella and the Elf owl Bailey.
We also spend a good half hour touring the main level of the house that is chock full of family (and otherwise collected, amassed and hoarded) memorabilia. Each area is laid out in a certain way - the Trapper's House, the Fair Lady's parlor, the whiskey distilling area - with Gwen dramatically and entertainingly spinning tall tales of their imagined lives.
Gwen clearly marches to the beat of her own drum. Firecracker might be the word to describe her. She is eccentric and boisterous and completely captivating to be around. You hang on every word she says — really! She grew up on a mountain farm down alongside the Fiordlands, raising from a very young age, birds and any other creatures she could get her hands on. The fire was in her to help animals and she was hell bent on making it happen for her! So moving to Waimate area (the only area in all of New Zealand with wallabies in it) seemed the perfect setting to her. I get the sense that we get to see and hear about 10% only of the fantastical stuff that gets dreamt up in her head. She is like a human iceberg with 90% of the "content" hidden from view.
That 10% though - WOW.
P.S. This is me holding a bag-o-possum!
Wallabies are considered a pest round these parts and are oft made into Wallaby Pie, but not here at Gwen's safe haven. Many, if not all, of the 70 plus wallabies that call EnkleDooVery Korna home have been hand raised from wee babies (when they were tacked up in cotton sacks substituting as pouches on her kitchen wall).
Wallabies of all ages (one year to sixteen years of age) live in enclosures that she has built. Some live alone (like the elderly blind fellow) and some live with buddies (like the Bachelor Boys, the Shy Sheilas, and the Luckless Trifecta) in the dozen or so enclosures. The idea is, you take a leisurely wander through all the pens doling out treats and patting the wallabies as you go.
I think it is us who get the treat though, patting and chatting to these affable little creatures!
Back at the main office area Gwen treats us to a visit with her baby possum Stella and the Elf owl Bailey.
We also spend a good half hour touring the main level of the house that is chock full of family (and otherwise collected, amassed and hoarded) memorabilia. Each area is laid out in a certain way - the Trapper's House, the Fair Lady's parlor, the whiskey distilling area - with Gwen dramatically and entertainingly spinning tall tales of their imagined lives.
Gwen clearly marches to the beat of her own drum. Firecracker might be the word to describe her. She is eccentric and boisterous and completely captivating to be around. You hang on every word she says — really! She grew up on a mountain farm down alongside the Fiordlands, raising from a very young age, birds and any other creatures she could get her hands on. The fire was in her to help animals and she was hell bent on making it happen for her! So moving to Waimate area (the only area in all of New Zealand with wallabies in it) seemed the perfect setting to her. I get the sense that we get to see and hear about 10% only of the fantastical stuff that gets dreamt up in her head. She is like a human iceberg with 90% of the "content" hidden from view.
That 10% though - WOW.
P.S. This is me holding a bag-o-possum!
Until The Cows Come Home
We pass on the 4 a.m. milking slot, but when Barry calls his brother up and says he has a couple of newbie Canucks who'd like to see the cows get milked in the afternoon, we hustle on over.
A lot of work goes into getting that carton of milk. With over 600 cows to be pumped, it's quite a process (and a little messy). We had a pretty good idea of how the cows got milked using automatic pumps, but it was an education seeing how they were herded along into the milking shed, hooked up, milked and then sent out the other end and into pasture for a fresh feed of grass. In three hours, it's all done.
We meet up with Mike who gives us the rundown on what's happening. The cows are a little skittish having our camera in their faces, but we do what we can to get some shots.
Where does most of that milk go, by the way? Turned into powder and sold to India and China.
A lot of work goes into getting that carton of milk. With over 600 cows to be pumped, it's quite a process (and a little messy). We had a pretty good idea of how the cows got milked using automatic pumps, but it was an education seeing how they were herded along into the milking shed, hooked up, milked and then sent out the other end and into pasture for a fresh feed of grass. In three hours, it's all done.
We meet up with Mike who gives us the rundown on what's happening. The cows are a little skittish having our camera in their faces, but we do what we can to get some shots.
Where does most of that milk go, by the way? Turned into powder and sold to India and China.
The Goodness In People's Hearts
When Jenn and I embarked on this adventure, we were looking for something different in our lives — a new flow, a different way to be. Along the way, we have met so many interesting and wonderful people —in Fiji and New Zealand — all with something to offer, whether it be a story, encouragement, assistance or just a living example of those most important attributes we wish to continue developing in ourselves.
As we come to the end of our New Zealand leg of the journey (plans are in full swing now for Tasmania followed by Argentina — the Expedia servers are churning away, working out the flight possibilities) the past few days have delivered a flood of goodness from people that overwhelms both of us, moves us to tears at times and reminds us that it is THIS feeling, THIS genuine kindness, care, selflessness and consciousness, we wish to cultivate in ourselves and share with others.
Let's begin with Barry and Heather.
Barry Henshaw, a modest, stand up, lovable Waimatian, we met on our 5 day kayak trip in the Abel Tasman Park. At the conclusion of our trip, it was Barry who said, "Now if you're down the South Canterbury way, you be sure you stop in—I mean it." The accompanying gaze indicated there was no nonsense attached to the invite and when we decided to keep our camper van a little longer, we got in touch and took him up on his offer.
We're so glad we did.
We reunite with Barry on the side of the highway in Omarama, a small village just outside of Twizel where Barry and his wife, Heather, have a weekend retreat. Meeting Barry's wacky Canadian kayak friends who he's only known for five days might throw some people, but not Heather. Vivacious and warm, she welcomes us from the moment we meet her, making us feel as though we've known her all along (maybe due to all the good stories Barry shared with us on the kayak trip). We intend to just visit for the afternoon, but Barrry, with his impish smile, won't hear of it — we're staying for tea, we're staying overnight (our first real bed in two months — OMG!) and in the morning, he'll show us around his farm and help us plan our trip from there.
And so we follow them home over the Canterbury plains, through a terrible downpour, to their house in Waihao Downs, about 15 kms outside of Waimate. A former farm station, this land is where Barry grew up and has a long and storied history.
We meet Gem, their adorable companion fox terrier.
They cook us a wonderful dinner, share the photos from their 2010 full excursion around Africa and then toddle off to bed, leaving these complete strangers to make use of their home, the computer and Internet to sort out business. We are touched by their generosity and openness they show for people they have only just met.
The next morning, Barry shrugs off work to show us around his farm. The sun is up and the views are fantastic — green hills and fields, streams, trees and mountains with fresh snow caps. For over 30 years, Barry worked the land himself, growing crops and rearing sheep and cattle. Now he leases his land for another farmer to use. Never one to sit still, he still gets out working, doing the heavy driving on other farms and managing an irrigation business. He's happy to have more time to himself and be able to set his own hours.
By mid morning, he has us all arranged. While he goes off to work, we'll do some more flight research on the Internet, then visit the town of Waimate and its little museum where a piece of Maori rock art from his land is being kept. Then it's off to the wallaby reserve and wrapping up at his brother's farm down the road to catch the afternoon milking of the cows. Afterwards, we'll meet up for dinner back at their place and one more very comfy night in the guest bed.
Being the polite Canadians we are, we awkwardly umm and aww. "No, really, that's too much. You don't need to do that."
Barry is persistent. "There's no point spending your day in town and then driving off somewhere else to sleep."
"But only if we can make dinner," we counter.
"Alright, I can agree to that." He peers at his from over his spectacles and uses his best stock agent tone (more of his past adventures). "So, can I close this deal or not?"
Pretty difficult to say no.
It is a great day. Pulling up out front of the Waimate museum, we find it closed, but we meet one of the volunteers, Fred, who again, out of the kindness of his heart, gives us a full private tour of the local museum and shares the local history. So complete and generous is Fred's tour, that we never get to the wallaby reserve that day and after scooping up some groceries, we make a mad dash along the highway to the dairy farm to catch the last cows getting milked for the afternoon.
Back at the house, we make up dinner. Barry comes back in from work and over a beer, Jenn pesters him to see photos from their family albums. There are a couple of real 70's style gems featuring Barry, Heather and their three boys when they were wee!
Heather comes in from work and over dinner we pester them with our million questions — about NZ life, history and politics, about sheep and cows, about their personal family histories. We recall a few hilarious moments from our kayak trip and share them in full detail with Heather. The night passes far too quickly.
"And make sure you stop at ArtTrois in town for the very best coffee," Heather tells us before heading to off bed.
The next morning (we finally do leave!) we stop in at ArtTrois. And are deeply moved once again.
Why three young men from Malaysia would ever decide to set up an elegant coffee shop and cafe in the small farming community of Waimate is almost impossible to imagine. Two years ago, they purchased their little shop over the Internet sight unseen (except for a photo of the fireplace), moved to Waimate and started their cafe business, bringing with them, as one local put it, "a much needed breath of fresh air."
Having stopped in Waimate while visiting NZ a few years ago, the boys decided the sleepy little town was the perfect place to open the ArtTrios cafe. Not too busy, no noise, lots of space. In Malaysia, they had managed a big city nightclub — it was busy, stressful and crowded.
We are greeted by the most genuine and warm hellos and smiles from all three. We order coffee and jasmine tea and take a seat. Jazz music plays softly. The coffee arrives with teddy bear art in the foam, created with chocolate sauce. One of the young men, Tat, does sketches of their customers which are kept in a guest books. We go through them all, admiring the talent and detail, feeling as though we are intimately meeting the people of the town as we flip through the pages.
The boys greet everyone who comes in and know exactly what people like to order. Such care, such attention to detail, such warmth and genuine care for the local people. Jenn and I feel as though they are little monks, healing the town with their care and love.
They greet Ray by name and pull out a chair for him at the counter. He sits and they pour him a simple coffee in a mug. There is no chit chat. Ray drinks his coffee quickly, tucks in his chair, exchanges a pleasantry and leaves. It is a moment of poetry, a ritual repeated each day at the same time, and they honour it with the same earnestness each morning.
A elderly lady comes in for tea and one of the boys gently removes a unnoticed spider taking a ride in her hair.
So enamored are we with the place, we return for lunch. They give us green tea to go with our Malaysian style dishes, a new years "prosperity" biscuit to try for dessert and refuse to take a tip from us, saying, "You are guests in our town. We should be treating you."
It is a surreal and unique experience. NO ONE can leave that shop without being genuninely touched in some way and made to feel special. We are honored, for a brief few hours, to be part of it.
Afterwards, we visit the wallaby reserve and meet Gwen, another special gem which we will write about in another blog entry. By the end of the day, we are in a daze, completely overwhelmed and we drive only a short distance to our new campsite in Timaru. We need to process the events of the past few days.
From Barry and Heather, our museum tour guide, Fred, the three angels at ArtTrio, the owners of the Verdetti shop across the road who have the very best greeting cards and tips for hideaway places, to Gwen from the wallaby farm — our visit to Waimate reaffirms what we have continued to discover since we set out on this journey.
The goodness found in people's hearts is truly a wonderful thing.
As we come to the end of our New Zealand leg of the journey (plans are in full swing now for Tasmania followed by Argentina — the Expedia servers are churning away, working out the flight possibilities) the past few days have delivered a flood of goodness from people that overwhelms both of us, moves us to tears at times and reminds us that it is THIS feeling, THIS genuine kindness, care, selflessness and consciousness, we wish to cultivate in ourselves and share with others.
Let's begin with Barry and Heather.
Barry Henshaw, a modest, stand up, lovable Waimatian, we met on our 5 day kayak trip in the Abel Tasman Park. At the conclusion of our trip, it was Barry who said, "Now if you're down the South Canterbury way, you be sure you stop in—I mean it." The accompanying gaze indicated there was no nonsense attached to the invite and when we decided to keep our camper van a little longer, we got in touch and took him up on his offer.
We're so glad we did.
We reunite with Barry on the side of the highway in Omarama, a small village just outside of Twizel where Barry and his wife, Heather, have a weekend retreat. Meeting Barry's wacky Canadian kayak friends who he's only known for five days might throw some people, but not Heather. Vivacious and warm, she welcomes us from the moment we meet her, making us feel as though we've known her all along (maybe due to all the good stories Barry shared with us on the kayak trip). We intend to just visit for the afternoon, but Barrry, with his impish smile, won't hear of it — we're staying for tea, we're staying overnight (our first real bed in two months — OMG!) and in the morning, he'll show us around his farm and help us plan our trip from there.
And so we follow them home over the Canterbury plains, through a terrible downpour, to their house in Waihao Downs, about 15 kms outside of Waimate. A former farm station, this land is where Barry grew up and has a long and storied history.
We meet Gem, their adorable companion fox terrier.
They cook us a wonderful dinner, share the photos from their 2010 full excursion around Africa and then toddle off to bed, leaving these complete strangers to make use of their home, the computer and Internet to sort out business. We are touched by their generosity and openness they show for people they have only just met.
The next morning, Barry shrugs off work to show us around his farm. The sun is up and the views are fantastic — green hills and fields, streams, trees and mountains with fresh snow caps. For over 30 years, Barry worked the land himself, growing crops and rearing sheep and cattle. Now he leases his land for another farmer to use. Never one to sit still, he still gets out working, doing the heavy driving on other farms and managing an irrigation business. He's happy to have more time to himself and be able to set his own hours.
By mid morning, he has us all arranged. While he goes off to work, we'll do some more flight research on the Internet, then visit the town of Waimate and its little museum where a piece of Maori rock art from his land is being kept. Then it's off to the wallaby reserve and wrapping up at his brother's farm down the road to catch the afternoon milking of the cows. Afterwards, we'll meet up for dinner back at their place and one more very comfy night in the guest bed.
Being the polite Canadians we are, we awkwardly umm and aww. "No, really, that's too much. You don't need to do that."
Barry is persistent. "There's no point spending your day in town and then driving off somewhere else to sleep."
"But only if we can make dinner," we counter.
"Alright, I can agree to that." He peers at his from over his spectacles and uses his best stock agent tone (more of his past adventures). "So, can I close this deal or not?"
Pretty difficult to say no.
It is a great day. Pulling up out front of the Waimate museum, we find it closed, but we meet one of the volunteers, Fred, who again, out of the kindness of his heart, gives us a full private tour of the local museum and shares the local history. So complete and generous is Fred's tour, that we never get to the wallaby reserve that day and after scooping up some groceries, we make a mad dash along the highway to the dairy farm to catch the last cows getting milked for the afternoon.
Back at the house, we make up dinner. Barry comes back in from work and over a beer, Jenn pesters him to see photos from their family albums. There are a couple of real 70's style gems featuring Barry, Heather and their three boys when they were wee!
Heather comes in from work and over dinner we pester them with our million questions — about NZ life, history and politics, about sheep and cows, about their personal family histories. We recall a few hilarious moments from our kayak trip and share them in full detail with Heather. The night passes far too quickly.
"And make sure you stop at ArtTrois in town for the very best coffee," Heather tells us before heading to off bed.
The next morning (we finally do leave!) we stop in at ArtTrois. And are deeply moved once again.
Why three young men from Malaysia would ever decide to set up an elegant coffee shop and cafe in the small farming community of Waimate is almost impossible to imagine. Two years ago, they purchased their little shop over the Internet sight unseen (except for a photo of the fireplace), moved to Waimate and started their cafe business, bringing with them, as one local put it, "a much needed breath of fresh air."
Having stopped in Waimate while visiting NZ a few years ago, the boys decided the sleepy little town was the perfect place to open the ArtTrios cafe. Not too busy, no noise, lots of space. In Malaysia, they had managed a big city nightclub — it was busy, stressful and crowded.
We are greeted by the most genuine and warm hellos and smiles from all three. We order coffee and jasmine tea and take a seat. Jazz music plays softly. The coffee arrives with teddy bear art in the foam, created with chocolate sauce. One of the young men, Tat, does sketches of their customers which are kept in a guest books. We go through them all, admiring the talent and detail, feeling as though we are intimately meeting the people of the town as we flip through the pages.
The boys greet everyone who comes in and know exactly what people like to order. Such care, such attention to detail, such warmth and genuine care for the local people. Jenn and I feel as though they are little monks, healing the town with their care and love.
They greet Ray by name and pull out a chair for him at the counter. He sits and they pour him a simple coffee in a mug. There is no chit chat. Ray drinks his coffee quickly, tucks in his chair, exchanges a pleasantry and leaves. It is a moment of poetry, a ritual repeated each day at the same time, and they honour it with the same earnestness each morning.
A elderly lady comes in for tea and one of the boys gently removes a unnoticed spider taking a ride in her hair.
So enamored are we with the place, we return for lunch. They give us green tea to go with our Malaysian style dishes, a new years "prosperity" biscuit to try for dessert and refuse to take a tip from us, saying, "You are guests in our town. We should be treating you."
It is a surreal and unique experience. NO ONE can leave that shop without being genuninely touched in some way and made to feel special. We are honored, for a brief few hours, to be part of it.
Afterwards, we visit the wallaby reserve and meet Gwen, another special gem which we will write about in another blog entry. By the end of the day, we are in a daze, completely overwhelmed and we drive only a short distance to our new campsite in Timaru. We need to process the events of the past few days.
From Barry and Heather, our museum tour guide, Fred, the three angels at ArtTrio, the owners of the Verdetti shop across the road who have the very best greeting cards and tips for hideaway places, to Gwen from the wallaby farm — our visit to Waimate reaffirms what we have continued to discover since we set out on this journey.
The goodness found in people's hearts is truly a wonderful thing.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Hot Showers and Hot Pools
Keir keeps saying Tekapo like "Tah-KAH-poh". He makes it sound as though it is a Mexican dish...something kind of spicy and taco-like. It is actually pronounced TEH-ka-po and is a fairly cute-ish town situated on the one end of its namesake, Lake Tekapo. The town is quite affluent as told by the numerous architecturally modern houses that have recently been, or are still being, built.
Our first stop is the Church of the Good Shepard which was built in 1935. The tiny stone building is situated perfectly so the small congregation that gathers there looks out at the milky blue glacial waters and the distant southern alps. It is the kind of building that one imagines is booked solid with weddings during the summer months.
We stop in at the iSite and check out our options for doing a night visit at the observatory. It is quite expensive and the forecast is calling for rain so we forego the expense recalling instead our night sky tutorial from our Abel Tasman trip.
The Tekapo area is reputed to have the cleanest air in the Southern Hemisphere so we breath deeply as we soak up the atmosphere at the Alpine Springs Spa where we bask in the three outdoor hot pools (shaped like the three local lakes: Tekapo, Pukaki, and Ohau).
Already I'm getting ahead of myself though as we started the day up in the Mount Cook National Park doing another hike. This time to the Tasman Glacier, Blue Lakes and the Tasman Lake.
The rain there began in the night and was, at times, quite heavy. I get the feeling it must rain there nearly every night or thereabouts. By morning it was on and off rain and being undeterred we set off for our trek.
The Tasman Glacier is now 28km long (once 85km not THAT long ago). The terminal face is about 3km wide and at its deepest point it is 600m thick. When we arrived at the lookout to the glacier the fog/cloud was just lifting up so we were able to get a nice view of the ice fields before it all got "socked in". The glacier is noticeably more gritty than either the Fox or the Franz. You could walk for miles on it and still not be on the actual ice.
Icebergs (and rather large ones) still float all around the lake. Remaining evidence from the not-so-long-ago Christchurch disaster when the earthquake shook 30,000 tons of ice off the terminal face.
It is a serenely peaceful place. Lovely quiet. The ice eats up all the sound so even a glacier tour boat out on the water is quickly forgotten about.
Back in the village of Mount Cook we visit the Hermitage hotel where the Sir Edmund Hillary Alpine Centre and Museum is located. Keir quite likes the low key exhibit whereas I find it sorely lacking (although it is one of the few things in New Zealand that is free!). There are some photos of the place throughout the 1900's which gives a flavor for the area as it developed and some memorabilia in cases (books, pamphlets and the like). There are also some replica cars of the time and a replica plane from when flights and alpine landings first started taking place on Mount Cook.
With it being early afternoon and the rain now setting in we head for Tekapo, stopping at the far end of Lake Pukaki for lunch.
After our spa-ing in town it is nearly 5pm and so we decide to check into the neighbouring motor camp which gets a checkmark of approval in our campsite map book. Both Keir and I don't get a great vibe when we enter into the reception when neither of the two people behind the desk greet us. The price is $36 for the two of us. Pricy for our likes and that doesn't include the $2 per shower that they want extra!!! We back out the door and high tail it down the road to Twizel where we find a true Kiwi summer camp by the small lake there. Quiet and low fuss we settle in for the good nights sleep that we didn't get last night with all that ice moving around.
Mount Cookie
Reaching up into the heavens at 3754 metres, Mount Cook or Aoraki (the Maori name meaning "cloud piercer") is the mountains of all mountains in the NZ southern alps, covered in white glaciers and doused with a creamy snow frosting on its summit year round.
What was supposed to be a leisurely drive from Geraldine to the lakeside ski town of Lake Tekapo for an afternoon in the hot spring pools got cast aside when we realized the weather forecast was providing us with clear views of Mount Cook right up to the summit. And with cloud and rain forecast to swoop in, it was back into the van and pedal to the metal along Lake Pukaki for the hour and fifteen minute drive to the village of Mount Cook and the base of the mountain. Lake Tekepo and hot pools — we shall return!
Our day began with a tasty breakfast at Cafe Verde restaurant in Geraldine, just minutes from out campsite. After weeks of eating toast, fruit and yogurt in the van, it was time for a breakfast treat of French toast and eggs Benedict. Plus, no dishes to do afterwards! Geraldine is a quaint little country town with great shops and the fine MC art gallery displaying the work of NZ renowned artists as well as a few local artists.
Arriving in Mount Cook village just after 2:00 p.m., we had a quick lunch with a terrific view of the mountain.
Finding the DOC campsite, we parked the van and from there, hiked the Hooker Track, a 3 hr return tramp that takes you through the valley, over a couple of suspension bridges, past Mueller Lake and finally arrives at the iceberg decorated Hooker Lake.
From there the can see the terminal face of the Hooker glacier with some full-on-in-your face views of the Mount Cook/Aoraki itself.
There were also mini icebergs in the lake, which Jenn tried to take home...
We tried to ignore the rumbling noises of falling ice/rocks which we could hear throughout the night from our campsite... Yikes...
As promised, the skies were clear, the sun was beaming down and Mount Cook revealed its very best side (its backside...well... west side!). With the weather scheduled to turn tomorrow, we feel fortunate to have caught the very best of NZ's highest peak.
What was supposed to be a leisurely drive from Geraldine to the lakeside ski town of Lake Tekapo for an afternoon in the hot spring pools got cast aside when we realized the weather forecast was providing us with clear views of Mount Cook right up to the summit. And with cloud and rain forecast to swoop in, it was back into the van and pedal to the metal along Lake Pukaki for the hour and fifteen minute drive to the village of Mount Cook and the base of the mountain. Lake Tekepo and hot pools — we shall return!
Our day began with a tasty breakfast at Cafe Verde restaurant in Geraldine, just minutes from out campsite. After weeks of eating toast, fruit and yogurt in the van, it was time for a breakfast treat of French toast and eggs Benedict. Plus, no dishes to do afterwards! Geraldine is a quaint little country town with great shops and the fine MC art gallery displaying the work of NZ renowned artists as well as a few local artists.
Arriving in Mount Cook village just after 2:00 p.m., we had a quick lunch with a terrific view of the mountain.
Finding the DOC campsite, we parked the van and from there, hiked the Hooker Track, a 3 hr return tramp that takes you through the valley, over a couple of suspension bridges, past Mueller Lake and finally arrives at the iceberg decorated Hooker Lake.
From there the can see the terminal face of the Hooker glacier with some full-on-in-your face views of the Mount Cook/Aoraki itself.
There were also mini icebergs in the lake, which Jenn tried to take home...
We tried to ignore the rumbling noises of falling ice/rocks which we could hear throughout the night from our campsite... Yikes...
As promised, the skies were clear, the sun was beaming down and Mount Cook revealed its very best side (its backside...well... west side!). With the weather scheduled to turn tomorrow, we feel fortunate to have caught the very best of NZ's highest peak.
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