Backpacking Part Four: Aoraki/Mount Cook
New Zealand's highest mountain
✒️ Written by: Abbie
After an awesome few days in Queenstown, and now on our 8th day of backpacking and hostel hopping, our journey took us to Aoraki/Mount Cook. New Zealand’s tallest mountain. At an impressive 3724 metres high, the peak sits almost four times higher than England’s highest mountain, Scafell Pike (which little old me climbed when I was knee high to a grasshopper). I certainly wouldn't be climbing this one though, I'll leave that task to the professionals.
The bus trip to Aoraki/Mount Cook was gorgeous, with enormous mountains flanking the road. Aoraki itself stood proud in front of us for a large portion of the drive as we drew nearer; it was surveying those who deem themselves worthy to visit. It must have thought we were acceptable specimens, as we had a glorious day with stunning mountain views once we arrived. The next day, however, the mountain hid behind the clouds all day, refusing to make an appearance. It's a good job we'd already seen it!
We arrived in Mount Cook Village at midday, and some people on our bus would only be there for a measly two hours before the bus carried on to Christchurch. Luckily for us, we were staying the night. We walked through the fancy Hermitage Hotel behind which the bus dropped us off, and wished we were staying there as we made a rather long trek through the sparse village to our Haka House hostel. No bother, once we reached the hostel we discovered we'd been given a two bed dorm rather than six bed—result! After seven nights sharing rooms with strangers, this was such a reward. We dropped our bags off there, then headed towards the walking trails to take in the sights of Aoraki/Mount Cook. A glacier-covered mountain lured us closer to the trails and stole our gaze from the towering peak beyond.
The English name for the mountain was coined to honour Captain James Cook and his accomplishment of being the first European to discover New Zealand. However, the traditional Māori name for the mountain is Aoraki, named after a young boy in Māori legend who went fishing in a canoe with his brothers, and when they capsized they survived by sitting on top of the upturned canoe. The cold south wind froze the brothers and their canoe, turning the canoe into New Zealand’s southern island and Aoraki—the tallest brother—into the mountain beside his brothers in the Southern Alps. This is an incredibly important tale in Māori culture, so the official name for the mountain became dual in order to allow the Māori tradition to live on.
We started our walk following signs for the Sealy Tarns track. The sign said it was 3.6km, and would take 2.5 hours due to the steepness (I was warned); however, I thought those numbers meant roundtrip… I soon discovered they meant one way. On the plus side, the sign also pointed to the Mueller Hut—a remote hut sleeping up to 28 people at the end of a challenging 6km trail—which we had tried and failed to book for the night. It’s a good job we hadn’t wasted our money and left ourselves without a roof over our head, stuck walking with all our luggage, on a trail we don’t have the fitness to complete. And, I know for a fact we couldn’t complete the walk to the Mueller Hut, because the first half of it is the Sealy Tarns track and we couldn’t even hack that!
It started out lovely: a nice, undulating path along the valley floor, with a brilliant view of Aoraki/Mount Cook to the righthand side of us in the distance, and the casual glacier slap bang in front. I knew we were going up a steep hill soon, so I happily skipped along assuming it was the small mound before us. I was wrong. Turns out it was the big fuckoff slope on our left.
The incline started out steep and only got worse. The path was made up of steps the whole way and some of them were so tall they reached my thighs. I tried to go in with a positive attitude, but there’s only so many steps you can keep that up for and, for me, it’s about ten. We took breaks as often as possible and gazed over at the view of Aoraki which only got more impressive with the height we gained. The day was hot and sunny which was nice but didn’t help, and I even had to unzip the legs off my walking trousers (that doesn’t happen very often). At a viewpoint with space to sit and eat where I thought we were almost halfway, we sat down and had lunch, only for James to tell me we were only a quarter of the way there.
We kept going, and eventually we reached a seriously amazing viewpoint hanging over the cliff edge with a clear, pristine view of Mount Cook opposite. We stopped here for quite a while, taking dozens of photos and deliberating walking further. Some people who walked up past us sounded like they were dying; others were practically skipping. The ones who looked like they were having the most fun were the ones who were on their way down.
To see a full panorama from this viewpoint taken by James, follow this link (15MB).
By the time we’d taken all our photos and cooled down a little, I had a new lease of life in me and was determined to make it to Sealy Tarns for what would hopefully be an even better mountain view. James didn’t sound keen after hearing me complain the whole way up so far, but was happy to keep going. I started walking up the steps once more, but didn’t even make it five metres—I was done. Not possible. Didn’t have the strength or the will. So, down we went. And honestly? Going down was just as brutal.
I am convinced the incessant calf pain I carried for the next few days was from stepping down three million chair-high steps in one go. Please do bear in mind the disadvantage of my short legs as you proceed to judge me.
We made it down and walked back along the valley to the village, where we quickly found a patch of grass and laid down in the remaining afternoon sun. Once evening started to settle in, we knew it was only a matter of time until golden hour showed itself on Aoraki’s peak, so we decided we needed to find a good spot to sit and watch it. Aka, a bar.
The Hermitage Hotel boasts huge windows looking out across the valley and onto New Zealand’s highest point, and their conveniently located bar takes advantage of this. We found ourselves some comfy seats by the window and two glasses of wine, which came with a complimentary snack of popcorn and nuts. We couldn’t take our eyes off the mountain range beyond the windows as we sipped away and relaxed from all the hiking.
The sky grew in shades of pink and we finished our glasses of wine to go outside and get some photos. It started to become apparent that the sun’s pink light might not hit the icy white peak after all, as the sky around it grew darker. Oh well, we tried. Just as we’d given up and looked down at our phones, the mountain played a trick on us and lit up with a rose gold hue in seconds. I happened to notice it as I looked up from my phone, and we both snapped away as many shots as we could get. It grew in impressiveness until, all of a sudden—just as quickly as the colour had arrived—it faded away. Golden hour was more like golden minute, but it was one of the most incredible minutes of my life.
Back at the hostel afterwards, we cooked food and kept checking outside if the night would be clear enough for astrophotography, but no such luck. We went to bed and awoke the next morning eager to feast our eyes on more mountain views. But of course, the next day the mountain was hiding. Thick cloud covered the valley and Aoraki’s peak was entirely missing from the skyline. The glacier to our left did pop out from under the clouds eventually, but Mount Cook was adamant not to be seen. We counted ourselves lucky that we’d had such incredible views the day before and the most stunning sunset with glass of wine in hand.
After we packed our bags once more and checked out of the tiny dorm, leaving the bags in storage in the reception, we wanted to make the most of our short time left in the area so went for another walk—this one shorter and less steep. We started the Hooker Valley Track, which takes walkers across swing bridges over dramatic gaps in the valley, towards Aoraki/Mount Cook itself for a closer view. The majority of the track was out of limits due to the second swing bridge being replaced, so it was never an option to complete the full trail. Just walking to the first swing bridge and back was a lovely morning walk, and we joined the hordes of tourists at the swing bridge viewpoint looking at the thick wall of cloud before us and wondering where the mountain went.
Mount Cook Village itself is tiny, made up mostly by tourist accommodation but with enough residents to warrant a tiny school, and nestled inside the small space is also a visitor centre for the mountain. We had enough time for a quick sweep through the museum and gift shop, before collecting our bags and waiting in the hotel for the bus.
Next stop: Lake Tekapo.