Dora the explorer!

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A long-ish drive today, from Dunedin to Mount Cook, New Zealand’s highest mountain. 4 hours estimated driving time, and another 300+kms added to the poor little Vitz’s engine. It’s doing remarkably well, the green meanie. Bombing around the country without a care in the world, with only a bit of tuning required to the automatic gearbox to make it almost as good as new. By the time I drop it off in Auckland, they may well have to retire it, such is the distance I’m racking up. And the bank manager may need to extend my overdraft for the amount of fuel required to drive such ridiculous distances…

Still, it started off well today – after a fairly ropey night’s sleep, due to the French heavy breather in the bunk above me (note not a snorer, but a sigher. I think that’s even worse somehow. I blame the Gaulloises), a quick friend request sent on Facebook to my other roomies (two lovely Koreans – Beau, Park Ji-Sung was discussed…), and a spot of breakfast, I went straight back to Speight’s brewery to fill up my water bottles for the journey ahead. I swear the water tasted like beer yesterday so figured that would keep me going – legally as well…

Sadly, the water tasted like water – must have been some cross contamination going on with the batch I drank yesterday. No matter, I carried on up the coast towards Oamaru, although took the Rough Guide’s advice and stopped briefly at Moeraki to see the boulders. Basically, these are a series of spherical lumps of rock, a couple of feet in diameter, with honeycomb patterned centres, distributed in random patterns along a 100ft long piece of the breathtaking coastline. Random, but quite fantastic all the same – not placed there by man but by, I guess, some sort of coastal erosion.

There was a gift shop there that I thought I might pick up some presents in. Instead I bought myself a jumper because the only one I have left is beyond wearable in terms of dirt levels… New Zealand has been far too cold for my Australia-accustomed bones…

Wearing my snazzy new togs, I hit the road again and was soon through the heavily Victorian Oamaru and onto my cross country leg towards Mount Cook, which took me past beautiful lake after beautiful lake. The hills were orange and yellow – a mixture of clay and grass I guess, but that, and the overdue blue skies along the route made the water in the lakes look as blue as glacial ice. Stunning.

It wasn’t too much longer and I got to the junction for Mount Cook. At this point, I was literally blown away by the beauty of the enormous lake that spanned the full length of the drive into Mount Cook Village. Lake Pukaki again had the aqua blue colour, but set against the backdrop of the granite coloured mountains and blue skies with the odd fluffy white cloud, it was unbelievably beautiful. I’d been debating whether or not this long winded detour to come here was going to be worthwhile but this instant, I knew it was.

The hostel is a wood cabin, and the village is nothing more than a few hotels and some chalets. Can’t find a shop for love nor money – and that’s fantastic. Mount Cook, with its snow covered peak, shadows your every move and you get a real sense of being lost in an alpine wilderness here. The hostel even has a sauna just to make sure you know you’re in ski country…

I couldn’t leave without doing what most people come here to do and that’s take a hike somewhere. Dusted off the running gear that’s been enjoying a rest at the bottom of my suitcase, and headed for the Blue Lakes and Tasman Glacier lookouts. ‘A gentle 100m climb’ says Rough Guides. Make that 100m of solid 1ft high step climbs followed by a clamber over scattered loosely formed rocks, with a sheer drop onto more rocks if you slip. Not sure who wrote that bit in the book but he/she may need to consider Specsavers as their next day trip. I powered up it, past the Chinese tourists, determined to burn some calories. That I did – by the time I reached the top, my heart was pumping out of my skin, my face the colour of a beetroot, and my lungs telling me I shouldn’t have stopped taking my puffer….

The view was worth every bead of sweat. The Blue Lake itself wasn't blue at all, but more green, a gorgeous sight behind me, and you could see the winding road 100m below to remind me how high I’d climbed in 15 minutes. The view back towards the lake I’d driven past on the way into Mount Cook, through the valley, was equally breathtaking. And then, in front of me, stood the glacier, part frozen on the surface but with up to 600m depth of ice below the water. The water was a grey blue, and at one stage had been as high as the rocks I was now standing on, but with global warming, had rescinded back to the level it’s at today.

After taking in the sights, I then went mad. Decided to jog , once I’d got past the rocks at the top, to the bottom of the climb. Was cheered on my some Americans and applauded by some Kiwis, who asked if this was a secret exercise zone they’d stumbled across...

Back at the hostel, and it’s a sauna and an early night before the madness of a 6 hour drive – yes, 6 hours – tomorrow. Room appears to be full of Chinese so I don’t understand a word. Headphones on, sleep time…next stop a bit of ice climbing…

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