Aoraki, a boat ride and a spiky end.

Our place in Twizel is indeed amazing, the only down-side is that it is around a 50 minute drive from Aoraki / Mt Cook National Park. For at least 15 kilometres of the trip, Lake Pukaki (a massive glacial lake fed by the Tasman and Hooker Glaciers) sits to your right and provides quite a few lookouts of the mountain. 

We pulled into one of the lookouts (I was getting a little keen to take a photo of Aoraki before we bumped into it). The lookout was swarming with people that had almost entirely emerged from a single tour bus, quickly departing after some fairly abrupt honking by their driver. One of the more self-enamoured of the passengers managed to sneak in a last-minute twirl while holding the hem of her dress (standing on a picnic table of course) - her long-suffering photographer dutifully capturing the spectacle. I took a few shots of my own (I was quick, as there was no twirling to speak of) and jumped back in the car. In the time it took to start the car and throw it into reverse - another bus had pulled up, and folks spilled out with cameras at the ready. A few brave souls appeared entirely indifferent to my reversing as they wandered into my rear camera view (fortunately emerging out the other side).  

Aoraki - twirling influencer just to the right.

The closer we got - the trickier it was to keep my eyes on the road, veering off to take a few more piccies along the way. The passengers were mostly tolerant of this... 

Mount Sefton

You can't see it from this angle, but there's definitely eye-rolling going on.

We checked in with the Glacier Explorers tour at the Hermitage Hotel in the Aoraki Mount Cook Village. The tour involved a short bus ride (yes, we've gone to the dark side), followed by a brief walk to the Tasman Glacier's terminal lake. There was a large group (29) of overly-vociferous friends celebrating one of their numbers 60th birthday. Forced to smile and nod as I endured the bus trip to the lakes closest parking option - once off the bus I gratefully fled numerous conversation-openers to chat with Josh and to take photos of the fairly barren landscape (aside from some nasty-looking thorn bushes) as we made our way to the jet-boat wannabes (big yellow dinghys really) at the jetty. Jen and her inability to be rude got stuck in a few conversations along the way. 

We managed to get placed with a German couple as well as a Chinese family for boating companions - which was great, as well as one older couple that nearly keeled over from the weight of their flotation devices. They were a delightful combination of very pushy, but slow.

Our guide cruised around some smaller icebergs, and pointed out how they rapidly crumble when exposed to the sun and air - the submerged, darker section lasting longer. He grabbed a chunk of glacial ice out of the water and invited us to break off a piece to taste. The Martin children instead just took a bite straight out of the large chunk itself, watermelon-style. Due to the vast compressive forces involved in its formation - the ice is pretty dense (fairly tasty though). 

Josh - about to go in for a chomp.

The glacial face of Tasman Glacier is melting and as a result - retreating up the valley. The melting ice also reveals the trapped rock and rock flour, which ends up sitting on top of the glacier (hence the dark powdering on the glacier in the photos). 

Tasman Glacier (that dirty blue thing in the background)

Aoraki in the distance over on the left.

I was keen to go on a bit of a walk once we got back to our pick-up point, but the kids were not enamoured of that idea. They kicked back in an alpine car park (we're parents of the year obviously) as Jen and I made our way to Kea Point Lookout. It was a much shorter track than we'd planned, but it meant we'd only be gone for a little while.

The trip through the alpine setting was pretty nice, and the walk itself wasn't onerous. It ended at a viewing platform, and gave a decent view of multiple glaciers hanging off the side of Mount Sefton (they occasionally shear away and come crashing down with the sound of thunder). The mountain remained free from thunderous collapse while we were there, and we made our way back down the track.

We were nearly back to the car park when we encountered a young family coming the other way - one of them making an odd sound once I had past them. Apparently (I'm oblivious to others remember?) the mum managed to back herself into one of the thorn bushes (Matagouri) that inhabit the area - in an ultimately foolish gesture of giving us way more room than was actually needed. I may have suggested to the kids that their mother had thrown a random stranger into a thorn bush...  

Don't back into one of these.