As well as death and taxes, a certainty in life is that there will be numerous #inspo quotes along the lines of needing to pass through storms to truly appreciate the sunshine or some such. Share if you agree, I bet five of my friends don’t have the courage to pass on and receive a lucky leprechaun candy crush bonus if you click like. But once you’ve done that just put that phone down and – on Thursday 22nd February in a small pocket of New Zealand around the town of Wanaka – look up and be in awe with the world.
Inspiration is easy in the Matukituki valley, where a gravel road is criss-crossed by swollen fords and peppered with fields of sheep and – just for a touch of variety and confounding every single cliché – cows. Mountaintops are iced with luminescent fresh snow and numerous cascades stagger down the sheer sided slopes with gravity. The sky is blue, the air incrementally warming up, and the storm has passed to leave a (la la la) slice of heaven.
I discovered this valley on a bigger trip in 2013, when conditions were benign, and a hire car could comfortably take the gravel road to Raspberry Creek in Mount Aspiring National Park without too much undue alarm. In our infinite wisdom this time around, Dad and I opted to book a shuttle bus following the rains of ex-tropical cyclone Gita, dropping us off at the trailhead for the Rob Roy Glacier walk. It was a memorable tramp back in 2013, and today it was possible that it became even better. The fresh snow helped, as did the cooler weather. And an early start meant we had beaten most of the parade of walkers getting increasingly sweaty as the day progressed.
I think I may be a little bit in love with this valley. This is no doubt helped by the fact that it is a valley and thus offers very placid walking; so little effort for such great reward. But following the swing bridge across the river there is climbing on the cards, through the fragrant freshness of Beech forest, cool and dark and tantalising with the sound of water and glimpses of snow from Rob Roy Glacier above.
In some ways the end of the track is something of an anti-climax, but only because the entire journey getting there has been as, if not more, enjoyable. Terminating close to the glacier, yet another waterfall for company, it is an ideal sandwich stop, a platform from which to take photos that cannot capture the all-round panorama of ice and snow and forest and water under big blue sunny skies. Dad and I two insignificant specks of unintentionally coordinated orange that have passed through the storm and into the light.
Barely after 3 o’clock back in Wanaka and the day had given so much. Ice cream added more and a drive returning up alongside Lake Hawea and Lake Wanaka offered a chance to see spectacle in a far more appealing light. The sombre grey of past days transformed into vivid blues and greens radiating from these gargantuan lakes, fringed by the ridges and spires of mountain peaks still dusted with snow. Each lookout understandably dense with caravans and coaches and cars and cameras and selfie sticks.
Lake Wanaka eventually ends and narrows into the valley of the Makarora River. Just past the township of Makarora another popular stop for caravans and coaches and cars and cameras are the jade pools of Blue Pools. With a gentle walk through a forest overflowing with hobbit hiding holes, two swing bridges and stony beaches suitable for building thousands of stupid piles of rocks that might look good in a picture but disturb the natural ecosystem, this is a busy spot. But yet again, as so many times in New Zealand, you can forgive the constant flow of people given the sheer beauty of the place, cognisant that you are just another nobody adding to the crowd anyhow. And with people comes stone-skimming fandom and plenty of fresh blood for the delightful sand flies that are in even greater abundance.
Like sand flies feasting on a French backpacker, we were gorging on this incredible day, soaking up every ray of sunshine with the joy that follows two days of rain. Driving back to Wanaka, as the sun finally slunk behind mountains, we forced down some fush and chups by the lake before revisiting That Wanaka Tree under more benign conditions than before. A crowd was once again gathered to look at a tree, tripods precariously submersed in the lake to capture identical pictures, and selfies a popular pastime as ever. Maybe drones were barred (I noticed signs indicating as much in some places), which was helpful in order to hear the surreal sounds of a pianist serenading a tree, and selling CDs in the process. Cash might just grow on trees after all.
Happily, the sunshine continued into the next day and it was good to finally see our Lake Hawea surroundings in a golden light. What comforted with cosiness during the storm also shone with charm in the summer sun. To me, Lake Hawea proved a good alternative to Wanaka, barely down the road but without the crowds and providing much more space. Indeed, under such big blue skies it was a shame to leave, to miss out on sitting in the garden, foraging in the greenhouse, rubbing the cat’s belly on the grass. But there was time for one last amble down to the lake shore, to the blue and green and gold and white of just another amazing little corner of this country. And time then to move on to yet another one.