I guess I've gotten into the habit of only writing about my weekends, which has led some to question whether or not I'm actually taking classes. Well... I am taking classes. It's just that they're not nearly as exciting as spending the weekend in Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park.
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| Beautiful turquoise-coloured river on the way to Mount Cook |
Originally named Aoraki by the Maori people (indigenous New Zealanders) then re-named Mount Cook after British explorer Captain James Cook, who spearheaded the settlement of British citizens in the 1770's. In an awkward attempt to appease both cultures, the actual name of the tallest peak in New Zealand is "Aoraki/Mount Cook".
For the last half hour of the 4-hour drive to the National Park, the horizon ahead of us was dominated by the snow-capped 12,316-foot peak. I had to constantly remind myself to keep at least one eye on the road as my attention was so easily captivated by the mountain. I remember I kept thinking it couldn't possibly look any bigger, but sure enough around every bend it grew steadily in height.
Lexi, Jill, and myself called it an early night after a feast of chicken, rice, and beans fajitas to rest up for the hike the next morning. After finally getting comfortable in my hammock, I was startled to hear a kind of scratching close by which was accompanied by vibrations in my hammock. I quickly grabbed my headlamp, shined it at one of my supporting trees, about 6 feet from my head only to see an ugly opossum staring right back at me.
For the rest of the night, I fought hard to get some sleep knowing that these hideous nocturnal creatures were so close to me. I managed to get some sleep, then woke up to find our bag of trash, which I placed neatly beside me had been stolen, and strewn across the camp site 20 feet away.
The plan for Saturday was to hike up to Mueller Hut, stay the night and hike down the following morning. But after a chat with one of the park rangers, we were convinced to make it a day hike given the "treacherous" weather forecast of Saturday night into Sunday.
Soon after we began the 5-km hike up to Mount Ollivier, Lexi and I broke away from Jill, who decided to hike at her own pace. The track was one of the steepest, yet visually rewarded tracks I've ever done. Surrounded by views of Mount Cook, countless other snowy peaks, mountain lakes, glaciers, and ice slides, we made it to the summit after about 4 hours.
Mount Ollivier (6,342 feet) was the first "real mountain" ever climbed by one of my mountain hero's Sir Edmund Hillary, the NZ-native that was the first to summit Mount Everest. That thought flitted through my mind for most of the hike, and I found myself so humbled hiking along the same track that sparked Hillary's love of mountaineering.
"I returned to the Hermitage after the happiest day I had ever spent. And now, after several decades of exploration, I still remember the intense pleasure of that day."
--Edmund Hillary on climbing Mount Ollivier
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| Me hugging a statue of Sir Edmund Hillary. He didn't hug me back |
Tomorrow, the gang is off on the road yet again, this time to Wanaka, 3.5 hours northwest for some hiking, camping, and possibly some canyoning. Stay tuned!
