29 January 2015 - Aoraki Mt Cook, Southern Alps

After breakfast this morning we set off along the lake shore for a walk, an activity that shook the cobwebs out and served to better familiarise ourselves with the Lake Tekapo Regional Park. Not far from the camping area, we discovered a collection of concrete blocks, old foundations of the Tekapo Homestead. 

When the Tekapo Power Station was commissioned in 1951, the lake level was raised to its current maximum level to provide storage capacity, referred to yesterday, which submerged the homestead site. The original homestead had been destroyed by fire in 1942, and the rebuilt homestead was shifted to nearby Rollesby. The site of the homestead is only visible when the lake levels are low, which of course they are during these current drought conditions.

The sun was still behind the cloud which dulled the landscape views but made for more pleasant walking.

We still delayed our departure, challenging each other to Sudoku puzzles; the first to finish correctly wins. Then we set off back to the Lake Tekapo village and shopped for a few perishable provisions at the Four Square, pleased to find that while there were few bargains, prices were fair. 

I took the opportunity to drive the forty or so kilometres through to Lake Pukaki and had to agree with Chris; the new vehicle is a dream to drive, however I was pleased to hand back the controls to him when we turned off the road seeking a lunch spot beside the lake.

Travelling south, the opposite direction to that last driven,  we were more aware of the great expansive Mackenzie Basin that had so appealed to the pastoralists of bygone years, running far to the south toward Omarama. We came through a flock of sheep being driven along the road, or more correctly along the wide berm. Several campervans and small buses had stopped, the tourists fascinated by the spectacle. We passed quietly on through, like locals.

By the time we reached Lake Pukaki, the cloud had burned off and Aoraki Mt Cook sat in all its snow clad glory at the far end; what a sight! Alas the many photos I took do not do the spectacle justice; the mountain merges with the lake and sky. My word must be enough. 

We lunched and then proceeded on around the southern end of the lake to the Information Centre, a fancy name for a poor jaded shelter that does indeed have information but not enough to keep our interest long. There is, however, a fine bronze statue of a Tahr and an informative board explaining this interesting creature’s existence.

In the early 1900s, the Tourism Department began a programme of introducing some of the world’s premier game animals to compliment the deer species already established over the previous fifty years. The intention was to “induce the world traveller to include New Zealand in his itinerary and to tempt our Australian neighbours to come across the Tasman Sea to enjoy the physical marvels and delightful climate of New Zealand”.

In 1904, the Duke of Bedford presented the New Zealand government with a gift of three male and three female Himalayan tahr from his private herd at Woburn Park, Bedfordshire, in Great Britain. One animal died on the sea voyage but the remaining five tahr were released near the old hermitage at Mt Cook where they adapted well to their new surroundings. In 1909, the Duke sent a further shipment of another six males and two females, which were also released in the same area. From these two batches, and in the absence of natural predators and competing animal species in the alpine areas, the population of tahr increased steadily.

By 1970, numbers were estimated to be as high as 40,000 and it was quite clear that over-grazing by these immigrants was devastating the alpine grasslands. A culling programme was introduced, aided by helicopters. These were used to recover the harvested animals for the creation of overseas markets for game meat. Tahr numbers were dramatically reduced and in 1984, the population was re-estimated to be down to 1,000 – 2,000 so a moratorium on commercial harvesting was introduced. In 1993 a management plan was put in action to deal with hunting and conservation interests.

But for all their menace, Himalayan tahr are now described by the International Union of the Conservation of nature as “vulnerable” on their list of endangered species. New Zealand has the only substantial herd of wild tahr outside their native India and Nepal, and is the only country where they can be hunted in free-range natural alpine environment. Each year thousands of local and international hunters contribute to managing these animals, balancing their conservation, recreational and economic importance with environmental considerations, although I am not so sure my many relatives who have come south over the last few decades to hunt tahr have had these high deals foremost of their minds.

I have seen these creatures in zoos, must I thought this specimen in bronze standing on the shores of the aqua coloured glacier fuelled lake was indeed the finest.

We turned north for Aoraki Mt Cook, fifty six kilometres up the west side of Lake Pukaki, then on up the Tasman River, until we reached The Hermitage. 

The 700 square kilometre Aoraki Mt Cook National Park along with the Fiordland, Aspiring and Westland National Parks make up the South West New Zealand World Heritage Area. Of the twenty seven New Zealand mountains stretching over 3,070 metres high, twenty two are in this park. The highest is Mt Cook, which actually is a mile long range with three peaks; High Peak at 3,754 metres, Middle Peak at 3,717 metres and Low Peak at 3,593 metres. Most are snow covered all year, particularly those three and Mt Sefton at 3,161 metres immediately above our camp. 

In fact great chunks have fallen off Mt Sefton since our arrival here this afternoon, or more precisely, avalanches have thundered down even in the middle of the summer. No doubt we will hear them through the night. Fortunately there is a hill and the Mueller Glacier Lake between this disintegrating mountain and our crowded camping spot.

We called into the excellent information centre at The Hermitage and left before absorbing or even appreciating all the displays and information available; we may have to call back tomorrow. But we did not come to climb the mountains (if we did attempt such an exercise, we might well end up joining the over two hundred and twenty souls the mountain has claimed in the last century) or to become experts educators or guides; we came to walk the Hooker Valley Track.

The forecasted bad weather has continued to linger out in the Tasman Sea west of the country however we will not push our luck too far. We intend to set the alarm and head off early tomorrow morning to catch the best of the day. Our boots are lined up at the door and I should close down and pack our lunch.

The resident Paradise Shelducks have wandered off to bed, the young budget tourists have readied their sleeping arrangements in their cars, cramped camper vans or tents. The DOC Ranger has passed by and adorned our number plate with a little round dot, Hindi style, which seems to confirm that we are legally present. It should be a quiet night apart from the occasional avalanche.