Adventure and Beauty Ending Our Days in NZ

This morning we were up before sunrise to have breakfast and get ready for our jetboat adventure. After getting our bags ready for pickup later, we walked out of the hotel to go onto the wharf to take the boat. The sun had come up and was gleaming from the snow that fell overnight on the mountaintops of the Remarkables and other ranges around us. We had heard rain in the night, but had no idea that an early snow fell at higher elevations. The Remarkables, by the way, are called that because of the way light and shadow falls across their steep slopes in an ever-changing pattern.

Of all our group, only Pat and Mike and I chose the jetboat. It’s one of the numerous “adrenaline” activities offered in Queenstown. Kiwis love their excitement and this filled the bill for us. They covered us in raingear and life jackets, bundling us up like polar explorers. We felt, as Pat said, like the Michelin Man.

The ride itself, in a boat powered by two 350-horsepower engines, was a heart-pounder. Our driver knows the lake and rivers we traveled like the back of his hand. He spun us several times in complete circles, whipping the boat as close as possible to rocks and shores, bridge pilings and trees. It was as good a thrill ride as I’ve ever experienced in the midst of spectacular scenery.
We disembarked with really cold hands and headed straight for a cup of hot tea to warm up, then back to our hotel to get the bags out and onto the coach. Heading now for Mt. Cook, many hours away, we made a few stops. First off, we stopped at another of New Zealand’s adrenaline rush activities, a bungy (or as we spell it, bungee) spot. This one was the first commercial enterprise of its type, devised by a man named A.J. Hackett who patented his process and, having made millions, has chosen to live in Paris rather than NZ.

None of us jumped, but we watched several others and chatted with a young woman who had just come back up from the gorge. She had jumped off a sort of bridge over the river, was picked up by a boat, then climbed the stairs back to the observation platform. She said she had last-minute misgivings, but closed her eyes and leapt. I wondered about whether she felt a jerk at the bottom, but she said it was a soft, smooth drop. Maybe next time I’ll try that.
Our route took us back out through the same valley we’d traversed to enter Queenstown, filled with vineyards. We made an early stop in Arrowtown, once a miners’ settlement during the gold rush, now a charming village much like many small mountain towns throughout the world. Since autumn is beginning, some change is occurring in the foliage and there were signs for a festival coming up. We had a nice lunch, nosed around in the shops for an hour and reboarded our bus.
Our guide offered one of his great Kiwi tales as we traveled, this one about Lake Wakatipu in Queenstown. The Maori legend says that a giant ogre fell in love with a beautiful princess and kidnapped her. Her father, the king, sent young men to save her with a promise that she would then become the bride of her savior. One young man was successful. When the ogre was killed, in his agony, he thrashed about and tore a hole in the earth and filled it with his tears of pain, thus creating Lake Wakatipu. There are as many legends of this sort, most involving a beautiful Maori princess, as there are natural phenomena in New Zealand. They are generally as fantastical and charming as these islands themselves.

Our trip took us through yet more beautiful New Zealand countryside, changing as we crossed back toward the Southern Alps. We saw many sheep farms along the way and areas of differing vegetation. One beautiful area had no trees on hills or in the valleys, just wheat-colored tussock grass. Out in the middle of that area, we saw a film crew working against that backdrop. We couldn’t figure out what they were filming, but the suggestion was that they were from Bollywood in India since many of those crews do film in NZ.
The scenery changed again soon, back to a landscape with trees, at first deciduous ones in the lower elevations, then evergreens as we climbed upward. Somewhere along the way here, we saw cliffs that looked like a cityscape painting, an effect created by erosion and, perhaps, wind. There have been so many sights on this trip that seemed designed to be the “perfect photograph” or an artist’s dream painted in nature. We passed, too, through “Mackenzie Country,” a broad valley with artificial lakes and canals that are part of a huge “power scheme” that provides the bulk of NZ’s electricity.

Then we turned off onto the road to Aoraki/Mt.Cook National Park. Aoraki is the Maori name for Mt. Cook. It means “cloud piercer.” That was completely appropriate this evening as the peak is invisible, hidden in the cloud cover as the rain fell and blew around us. We stopped on the shore of Lake Pukaki, its milky blue water fed by retreating glaciers above. The cloud moved across the peaks and no glaciers were visible.
We arrived at the village beneath Mt. Cook which is predominantly occupied by the famous Hermitage Hotel where we are staying. Our room on the ninth floor has a huge picture window that looks out toward Mt. Cook, but we’ll hope for better weather to get a view before we leave tomorrow morning.

Mt. Cook was Sir Edmund Hillary’s practice area where he prepared for his ascent of Mount Everest. Although this mountain is not as high as Everest, conditions were deemed similarly difficult for good run-throughs. Hillary’s presence remains here in a statue in front of the hotel that depicts him facing Mt. Cook and in the center named for him that is part of the hotel complex. It includes an exhibit from his mountain climbing and Antarctic adventures, as well as a planetarium and 3-D movies.
Hikers, or trampers as they are called here, have tracks to follow throughout NZ. In this area, those paths go to the nearby glaciers and other alpine sights. The hotel provides “tramper hampers” for those who are interested and generally supports guests who are here to explore the area. In addition to the main hotel, there are chalets and motel accommodations, something for every budget. This is a national park and while 40 percent of it is covered by glaciers, it is easily accessible by road.
This is a fitting spot for our final night in New Zealand. The mountain’s name celebrates Captain Cook who claimed this country for England. The commemorations of Hillary speak to Kiwi pride in his accomplishments and their connection to the Southern Alps. The Maori name, Aoraki, speaks to the importance of their culture in New Zealand. Looking at a map, Mt. Cook is centrally located on the South Island. It does somehow seem an iconic finale for our time here. As we enjoyed a drink in the bar before dinner, we watched sunlight moving up Mt. Cook, never revealing the peak, but tantalizing us with the possibilities. Maybe we’ll see it tomorrow morning before we leave. While we’ll travel to Christchurch airport tomorrow for our flight to Sydney, the beauty of this special and almost mystical spot will remain with us as an ultimate Kiwi experience years into the future.