Hooker Valley Track
Rambling along the Starlight Highway we soon caught our first glimpse of Mount Cook. I honestly wasn’t sure if we’d get to see it at all during our time there. Often obscured by clouds, nature had blessed us with a view of New Zealand’s tallest mountain.
I had booked us two nights at the Hermitage Hotel. Located nearly at the base of the mountain it was the most luxurious hotel in the area. The room was large and we had a sweet view of the mountain through the giant picture window, but the hotel lacked some of the other amenities one might expect. My father jokingly asked the front desk to point us in the direction of the hot tub and sauna, neither of which they had.
There was rain forecast for the next day, but forecast be damned we got up early the next morning anyway and made our way over to the Hooker Valley Track. Although it had been pouring earlier that morning by the time we hit the track the rain had mostly subsided. Pulling up to the parking lot we thought we had gotten an early start until we caught a glimpse of massive tour buses unloading hordes of Korean tourists.
The clouds were hanging low as we plodded along the track. Dad and I picked up the pace and scuttled past the motley crew, many of whom looked ill-prepared for a hike in the rain. Soon enough the number of other tourists on the track had dwindled. I’m sure many of them didn’t make it past the first of three suspension bridges dangling over rushing bluish grey rivers.
Beautiful is an inadequate description for this place. ’Tis otherworldly and absolutely breathtaking. And the air was as crisp and clean as any I had ever breathed.
We tramped all the way to Hooker Lake, a proglacial lake that first began forming back in the 70s. Clouds were draped over Mount Cook and we managed to catch partial glimpses throughout the day, but for the most part the mountain remained bashful. We didn’t give it much thought. There was no shortage of magic. It laid in all directions in the form of waterfalls, icebergs, mist, boulders and a variety of dew covered flora.
On our return dad noted that oftentimes we’d pass other tourists and they wouldn’t even look up. They seemed to be pushing through the task at hand simply to check a box. Sad really, but we were both tremendously grateful to be there awed by nature’s majestic beauty.
