After one of those drives the day before from Greymouth on the South Island's West Coast all the way east and then back inland to Twizel, where Steven and I thought nothing could possibly match the unparalleled beauty, we knew right away we were in for another wild ride! Though I'd visited this area of New Zealand in 2019, I was excited to show Steven that the road from Twizel north along the shore of Lake Pukaki to Aoraki, or Mt. Cook, might be one of the most beautiful in the country.
For Ngāi Tahu, the South Island's most dominant Māori tribe, the majestic Aoraki represents their most precious ancestors and is considered tapu or sacred. According to legend, sky father Raki married earth mother Papi-tui-nuku. When their four sons visited them from the heavens in a waka, or canoe, the waka capsized and turned to stone as they tried to return to the skies. The stone became the entire South Island. When Aoraki, the eldest son, and his brothers tried to hold onto the side of the waka, they became frozen and formed the land's mightiest peak, Aoraki, and its three other tallest mountains. Because Aoraki is tapu to Ngāi Tahu, climbers are asked not to stand on the summits of any of its peaks.
When we walked around the Aoraki Visitors Center, we learned that nowadays, the trip from Christchurch on the East Coast to Aoraki is just a few hours of pleasant driving. Once it took three days, and there were no guarantees of arrival. The first visitors came to Aoraki on horseback and used bullock wagons to cart heavy loads.
After crossing the Pukaki River on a whaleboat ferry to the lake's western shore, passengers faced another 65-km grueling journey over rocky roads and through fjords and swamps. Flooding creeks and even snowdrifts often lengthened or even stopped the final five-hour trip to the region's first hotel.
After World War I, coaches from the Mount Cook and Southern Lakes Tourist Company provided transportation. But it was still slow going and hazardous, with much of the highway remaining unsealed until the 1960s. A journey that once took two days is now just two hours long.
The piupiu sculpture, a woven skirt made of dried flax, was a symbolic covering for the magnificent Aoraki and for those who live and travel here. It could be worn around the waist or over the shoulders like a cape. Each piupiu strand is linked together to represent strength and unity. The strands also symbolize the many people who have visited Aoraki, and those whose souls remain.
I don't recall there being a fee in 2019 to visit the nearby Sir Edmund Hillary Alpine Center, named in honor of New Zealand's late favorite son. As that had changed, and we wanted to go hiking, we decided not to see Hillary's mountaineering memorabilia and learn more about the epic tale of his scaling Mount Everest with his Nepalese climbing partner, Sherpa Tenzing Norgay.
Instead, we drove a few miles toward the Tasman View Glacier.
About halfway up the hill, we had a lovely view of the Blue Lakes. No, I wasn't colorblind, the Blue Lakes are now almost mint green! In the mid-1800s, when the lakes were named, they were fed by turquoise-colored glacial meltwater filtering through the moraine. The icy blue water was a refreshing swimming spot in the summer, and a popular skating rink in the winter.
Now, though, the Tasman Glacier has shrunk in both length and height, so water no longer flows into the Blue Lakes from the glacier. In addition, warmer rainwater now feeding the lake supports green algae, making the lakes green. One upside is that the Blue Lakes now support large numbers of native fish.
The fabulous weather we'd enjoyed and been spoiled by recently was disappearing in front of our eyes, as we looked back toward the valley where we'd started our hike.
By the time we reached the Tasman Lake Viewpoint, the weather was so poor that there was little to see of the Tasman Glacier, the nation's longest and largest. From an elevation of 3,000 meters, it had previously stretched for 27 kms and 4 kms wide. Since it began retreating, the viewpoint from Tasman Lake has moved much farther away from the glacier's face. By 2011, it had shrunk so rapidly that the glacier had been reduced in length by 3 kms. Shockingly, the glacier is expected to measure only 20 kms long by next year. According to scientists, the Tasman Glacier might not even be there in 50 years, as it's already receded so much.
Even though we'd known of the glacier's rapid retreat when we started out, we'd hoped to have amazing views of Tasman Lake and the surrounding mountains. However, that was not to be!
Though we'd hoped to hike more than this, the rain and fog didn't make for optimum hiking conditions, so we decided to bail. As we drove, we thought the traffic-calming measures seemed odd, as the road narrowed so much in spots that only one car could pass. It felt like the tightening of the number eight in the middle!
As we drove south along Lake Pukaki, the weather gods confounded us with a smidge of blue sky, to the point where we wondered whether we should return to Aoraki again and see if the hiking conditions had improved!
Since time for once was on our side, we stopped at Peter's Lookout near the south shore of the lake. It was described as having one of the best vantage points across to Aoraki, New Zealand's highest mountain at 3,724 meters. The lookout once sat atop a terrace above a much smaller, shallower Lake Pukaki. But the damming of the lake at the southern end for hydroelectricity had almost doubled the lake's length and increased its height by nearly 50 meters. That resulted in the submergence of Te Kōhai, a significant landmark near the lake's outlet that once appeared on New Zealand five-pound notes.
Though this was one of the country's most scenic and photographed spots, the view of Aoraki was at risk of being obscured by wilding pines just a few years ago. Efforts to restore the land surrounding the lookout by removing the pines and planting native species to help enhance the area's biodiversity have paid off.
As I wrote in prior posts, wilding pines, or wilding conifers, have become an environmental and economic problem here, as they have elsewhere. They take over productive farmland and the landscapes people love for recreation and tourism; they fuel more intense wildfires than tussock land and pasture, and can reduce water flow essential for irrigation and hydroelectricity.
The seeds of wilding pines, which are not native to New Zealand, are spread by the wind and can infest neighboring landmany kilometers away. It's estimated that just one wilding pine species can produce 150,000 seeds per year. Removing super-spreaders is critical to managing the spread of wilding pine in this region.
Next post: The thrill of a lifetime in Quenstown for an adrenaline junkie!
Posted on June 10th, 2026, on our last night in Tainan, Taiwan, and just a week before we're flying to San Francisco to spend a few precious days with our son and his family. It's almost impossible to think we've been 'on the road' for nearly three months, as the time has just flown by. Taiwan has been far less 'developed' and therefore more challenging than we expected, which makes home sound far more attractive than it might otherwise have been at the end of a long trip. Please take care of yourself and your loved ones.
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