Looking at the map, I know I haven't got time to visit Queenstown, but I do want to see some more sights before I head back to Picton. I decide to head south and see some lakes. As usual, it takes ages.
It's a scorching hot day and Highway 1 has some very long straights, completely different from the drive down to Christchurch. It makes for an arduous journey until, as I approach the mountains, the road starts to get more interesting. Still, it feels like an awfully long time before I reach signs telling me I'm finally approaching Lake Tekapo.
When I finally reach the small village on its shores, the journey suddenly becomes worthwile. Driving along the main road through the village, there are some housing developments on either side - Tekapo is expanding. But there's no construction, and there are no existing houses, within perhaps 100m of the lake shore. Instead, there are wide open spaces with picnic benches, from which you can sit and admire the view. And it's an easy view to admire. Lake Tekapo is breathtakingly beautiful, with snow-capped mountains in the background, under a blue sky flecked by serene white clouds. The whole feeling is very peaceful.
It's a scorching hot day and Highway 1 has some very long straights, completely different from the drive down to Christchurch. It makes for an arduous journey until, as I approach the mountains, the road starts to get more interesting. Still, it feels like an awfully long time before I reach signs telling me I'm finally approaching Lake Tekapo.
When I finally reach the small village on its shores, the journey suddenly becomes worthwile. Driving along the main road through the village, there are some housing developments on either side - Tekapo is expanding. But there's no construction, and there are no existing houses, within perhaps 100m of the lake shore. Instead, there are wide open spaces with picnic benches, from which you can sit and admire the view. And it's an easy view to admire. Lake Tekapo is breathtakingly beautiful, with snow-capped mountains in the background, under a blue sky flecked by serene white clouds. The whole feeling is very peaceful.
I take a few photos, but my brain is juggling two things - the time (in particular, how long it will take me to get back to Picton) and the fact that Lake Pukaki and Mount Cook are nearby. Do I have time to see them? I've come so far, it would be senseless not to.
There's a policeman filling up with petrol and I ask how long it will take to reach Lake Pukaki, and whether it's worth going. He says “About 25 minutes. I've just come from there. It's beautiful today, with really nice views of Mount Cook and the glaciers”. I don't really need any persuading - he could have put me off if he'd said it was an hour away, but not 25 minutes. So I drive for almost exactly 25 minutes and suddenly there it is. And it's stunning.
There's a policeman filling up with petrol and I ask how long it will take to reach Lake Pukaki, and whether it's worth going. He says “About 25 minutes. I've just come from there. It's beautiful today, with really nice views of Mount Cook and the glaciers”. I don't really need any persuading - he could have put me off if he'd said it was an hour away, but not 25 minutes. So I drive for almost exactly 25 minutes and suddenly there it is. And it's stunning.
It's one of those views where you come round a bend and suddenly, it's just there. Lake Pukaki is mirror-smooth, with majestic Aoraki / Mount Cook at the far end.
I look for somewhere to pull over, find a layby, and get out of the car. It's incredibly hot – I've read that lack of pollution means the New Zealand sun can be particularly severe. Today is evidence of that. The sun is searing through the clean air and feels like it's peeling away my skin. It's also incredibly quiet here. There's no breeze at all, and unless a lonely car passes by, there is no sound except a couple of bird calls.
Looking around me, this vast, searing, silent space is too much to take in. I'm awestruck, and then I am numb, and then I'm awestruck again.
A car stops nearby and two people get out. They look like grandfather and granddaughter and their arrival pulls me out of my trance. I turn on my camera. Again I know the photos won't do it justice – I'm getting used to that feeling in New Zealand. The edge of the lake is a bit rocky (the water level is slightly down), but the three of us start walking down to the water's edge. Up ahead, the grandfather and granddaughter are dive-bombed by some protective birds. For some reason, they don't take the hint. They just keep walking and ducking and dodging. I shift 10 yards further to the left and walk to the water completely untroubled. I am one with nature. The water is spectacularly clear and still, and I take photos that I'm convinced will look as unremarkable as a photo of a field. But as return to the car and another passer-by pulls over, he tells me he's lived in the area for 11 years and has never seen the water so smooth. With those words in my ears, I get back in the car, stare at the scenery one last time, and feel genuinely humbled.
I look for somewhere to pull over, find a layby, and get out of the car. It's incredibly hot – I've read that lack of pollution means the New Zealand sun can be particularly severe. Today is evidence of that. The sun is searing through the clean air and feels like it's peeling away my skin. It's also incredibly quiet here. There's no breeze at all, and unless a lonely car passes by, there is no sound except a couple of bird calls.
Looking around me, this vast, searing, silent space is too much to take in. I'm awestruck, and then I am numb, and then I'm awestruck again.
A car stops nearby and two people get out. They look like grandfather and granddaughter and their arrival pulls me out of my trance. I turn on my camera. Again I know the photos won't do it justice – I'm getting used to that feeling in New Zealand. The edge of the lake is a bit rocky (the water level is slightly down), but the three of us start walking down to the water's edge. Up ahead, the grandfather and granddaughter are dive-bombed by some protective birds. For some reason, they don't take the hint. They just keep walking and ducking and dodging. I shift 10 yards further to the left and walk to the water completely untroubled. I am one with nature. The water is spectacularly clear and still, and I take photos that I'm convinced will look as unremarkable as a photo of a field. But as return to the car and another passer-by pulls over, he tells me he's lived in the area for 11 years and has never seen the water so smooth. With those words in my ears, I get back in the car, stare at the scenery one last time, and feel genuinely humbled.
But now I really have to get back on the road. I estimate Picton is about 6 hours away. I should be back by midnight, and hopefully be able to find somewhere to stay. The journey back is long and tedious, and I contemplate staying in Blenheim overnight. But when I get there, having got this far, I press on and drive the extra half hour to Picton.
Unfortunately, when I get there Picton is shut. A couple of bars are still open but none of the motels are, and at 11:30 pm none are answering their out-of-hours doorbells or phone numbers. I spend 20 minutes driving round the tiny centre of a small town, before I decide to sleep in the car. It will help me to get up in time for the early ferry. It's a warm night so my shorts, t-shirt and barefeet are no concern. I park in the a bay reserved for Apex hire cars, I open the windows slightly, recline the seat, and sleep soundly.
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