Mount Cook

The idea of the relocation is just to get the vehicle back to its base so they allocate you a certain number of days – Queenstown to Christchurch being 48 hours. However, if its not needed urgently  and you want to see the sights en route you can book extra days. It costs extra, but not as much as the full rate.

 

We wanted to see Mount Cook on the way so we negotiated an extra 24 hours and headed North through the mountains at a fairly leisurely pace. We stopped to watch the bunjy jumping and have a coffee  but soon after were forced to halt again as they were blowing up a mountainside that was threatening to fall on to  the road. We had to wait for an hour or so whle a helicopter doused the mountainwith water from afairly samll bucket-0 not sure why. This was a big fall, but smaller slips happen all the time in some areas, usually after heavy rain of course, as cuttings are made very steep and the rock quite often soft or mere sand. Kiwis do not seem to be too risk averse, which is probably why they invented so many of these adrenalin sports – driving in the mountains is just one more only they don’t charge you for it and you don’t have a choice whether to take part.

 

We made up the time eventually and were rewarded with rare views of Mount Cook summit, which is often wreathed in cloud but for us they parted just as we approached along the side of Lake Pukaki. The lake is 27 kilometres long so you get plenty of time tosee the weather changing around the peaks. Closer up it was even more impressive as the clouds swirled round the neighbouring peaks but Mount Cook gradually cleared and we ended up with  some brilliant views.

 The ominous nature of the mountains was  brought home by one of the many plaques on the monument to those who had died climbing on this range. Margot had heard from Willy, back in Gore, that one of their colleagues, with whom they had tramped around Queenstown all those years ago, had died on the mountain and there was his name on the monument.

 After an exploratory walk, well short of base camp, we headed north again to find a camp site on Lake Tekapo, famed as the clearest sky in the southern hemisphere and for that reason home to New Zealands observatory. It being cloudy by then we abandoned our plan to take the star-gazing tour and opted for the hot water pools. The three pools were shaped like Lake Tekapo, Lake Pukaki and Lake Ohau (but not to scale as Lake Ohau would have been bathtub sized) and descended the hillside in order of temperature. The top one was too hot, the bottom one too cool but - guess what – the middle one was just right.

 As we lounged there in the water we got into conversation with two ageing bikers on their way back from a Harley Davidson rally by way of the local bar and we now know as much about the economic rise and fall and rise of the Harley Davidson company as we do about high country irrigation. What a life we lead!

 Pulling out in the morning we discovered a little stone church overlooking the lake with a picture window instead of an altar – a lovely idea considering the view but quite radical for a Victorian clergyman. Must have been challenging trying to give a sermon with everyone looking over your shoulder at the view. What could you say?

 Outside the church was a statue of a collie dog, erected by grateful sheep famers, though if you think about it, paid for by the sheep.

 

Back to Christchurch

 Our last day back to Christchurch was pretty much a long drive across the Cantebury plains but this time we took the scenic route so at least we had the mountains on one side. We did stop at a lovely camping spot for lunch overlooking the Rakaia Gorge where the camp warden had inscribed all the rocks keeping vehicles off the grass with aphorisms along the lines of “The key to a happy retirement is a happy marriage” – unfortunately too big to go in our luggage.

 More evidence of the creative talents of up-country folk came at Geraldine where all the coffe shops are hung with original art and craft, but the biggest find is the Knitwear shop, home of the world’s largest jumper (Guinness Book of Records accredited) and a copy of the Bayeux Tapestry make out of worn out knitting machine needle tips. Not only had he done this himself, the owner,who was on hand, had researched and devised the missing bits of the tapestry like the Battle of Stamford Hill (including the bit with the pikestaff – Peter checked). All of this was available on a CD-rom together with dozens of games and bits of software invented by this guy and Peter was so impressed he bought a copy. To someone who could never get his Airfix Spitfires to stay together and who doesn’t even understand what Sudoko is, let alone have the slightest urge to do it, this type of  mind is totally alien but nevertheless an object of fascination. He deserves his $30 even if we never work out how to make the CD work.

 Stopping only to give the van a spring clean (we had carefully avoided using the shower or toilet – no, we didn’t hang on for three days, they have them on the camp sites) and fill it up with diesel we handed it back to Britz at Christchurch Airport where Hugh was waiting to take us home.