I’m not meant to be an outdoorsman. A city boy at heart, I like my creature comforts. I appreciate nature and love wildlife, but I’m not a born hiker, hunter, fisherman, or mountain climber by any stretch of the imagination. It might be because I’m not smart enough to figure out how to do it right, without hurting myself or undergoing extreme humiliation.
Yesterday was a case in point. I drove from Queenstown, New Zealand through country that looks remarkably like Napa but with many more sheep (New Zealand’s sheep population is 10 times its human population) to Mt. Cook. Its Maori name, Aoraki, means “Cloud Piercer”, and at over 12,000 feet Mt. Cook is the tallest mountain in New Zealand. Though the mountaintop is often shrouded in clouds from the valley floor below, there are three glaciers that are accessible by hike, including the longest glacier outside the arctic.
The weather was a little dicey yesterday, with cloudy, showery periods interspersed all day with moments of sunshine. The worst weather I saw en route wasn’t so bad, though - some extended drizzle, including the final drive up to Mt. Cook village. Unfortunately, at 12,000 feet, you can’t see the top of the mountain on a cloudy day, but I was determined to make the most of my time here – I was off today for Christchurch and then the North Island – so I dumped my bags, put on my hiking boots and a hat, and headed for one of the glacier hiking trails.
Captain Camper that I am, I started the 2-3 hour roundtrip walk in hiking shorts and a t-shirt, despite the drizzle. The sun looked like it was breaking through in spots, and I figured even with a little rain I’d stay cool on a long walk. Most of the other hikers I saw had on long pants and raingear, and tended to give me an odd look or a knowing smile that said “you’ve never walked off pavement before in your life, have you?” (I actually have, and I enjoy this kind of tramping (as they say here in NZ) a lot, but I never learn any lessons from bad prior experiences…). I, on the other hand, was reveling in my relative comfort, when others seemed to be bundled beyond recognition.
The weather held for the walk up, and the glacier was massive and awesome – you could see the ancient ice flows and look down a cliff to a gray mass of ice that is becoming a glacial lake (these glaciers are melting fast due in large part to global warming). I’d never been this close to a glacier before (haven’t taken an Alaska cruise or been to that part of Montana), so this was a treat.
As I admired the raw nature, the drizzle quickly turned to steady rain. OK, so I’m getting a little wet. No problem. Water never hurt anyone, right? Another 5 minutes or so passed, and it started to sleet. It’s midsummer here in New Zealand, so I didn’t plan on this. But a real outdoorsman would probably figure that weather on a glacier can get pretty nasty any time of year. It was clearly time to begin the walk back, with a dry shirt and a warm shower at the top of my agenda. Many of those same hikers I saw on the 1 ½ hour journey up now viewed the soggy, cold American with expressions ranging from bemusement to abject pity. Adding insult to injury, a Japanese tour group the size of a small city (with guide) was walking up as I was walking back. They were geared up in raincoats with hoods, umbrellas, etc. As I marched past them, I felt glad that I didn’t know enough Japanese to translate “American idiot…thinks this is a day at the beach….”
I made it back, and quickly worked on getting warm and dry (though it may take weeks for my t-shirt to dry completely). Having regained my perspective, it was amazing to be so close to a glacier. There were hikes on the map to glaciers reputed to be even more spectacular. Sounded like a great plan for a sunny day…
The weather was a bit more cooperative today, and I hiked to the base of Tasman Glacier (while keeping one eye at all times for the slightest specter of rain clouds). A little sunshine makes all the difference. The ice and snow really do alternate between white and blue. There’s a lot of gray, too, from the continuous melt and the silt. You really get a tangible feel for the impact of global warming here. For instance, a lake that you can boat on at the base of the glacier didn’t even exist 20 years ago. Also got some great views of Mt. Cook’s peak poking through the clouds. Views that were worth that soggy feeling, no doubt.
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