Rainbows After Rain

Today I was thankful that I was gifted a new rain jacket for Christmas. Instead of a beautiful sunrise, this morning we were awoken at 6 a.m. by torrential rain and thick, soaking clouds in Queenstown. When the alarm actually went off an hour later, the rain had passed and the clouds lifted, but we managed to chase the weather all day.

The plan was a 6-hour road trip to Aoraki Mt Cook National Park to check out the eastern slopes of the Southern Alps and the glacial blue Pukaki Lake. It was an area of the country that wasn’t on our original itinerary. New Zealand, despite being small, is actually difficult to navigate. North to South is easy but East to West is foiled by the Southern Alps that run down the spine of the island. There are only two or three places that you can cut across from one side to the other. We had made the decision to drive up the West coast of the country on this trip, which cut out Mt. Cook, Central Otago and the famous glacial lakes. I thought it was a choice that we would have to make, but I agonized over it. Dave and I studied maps and went back and forth on our plan. We finally decided that this may be our one chance to see this place, so we opted to make a big out and back trip from Queenstown one day. It would be a lot of driving, but from everything we’ve read, it was beautiful country. Dave was game, so I was game.

We finished breakfast, stopped at a grocery store to grab some sandwiches for lunch and hit the road by 8:30 a.m. The nice thing about New Zealand in the summertime is that it stays light until well after 10 p.m, so the days are long and we can pack them full of activity. I’m typing this blog at 8:30 p.m. as we are on our way back to Queenstown and the sun is still high in the sky.

On the three-hour drive to Mt. Cook, we felt like we were chasing the morning clouds and rain all the way. But we were hopeful. Clouds kept breaking up in our rear view mirror and we were leaving blue skies behind us. Maybe we’d have a clear day by the time we got to the park. In the meantime, we were pretty socked in the entire drive. We could tell that the landscape around us was beautiful, but we couldn’t quite see all of it. The clouds did make it dramatic, but we weren’t able to appreciate the whole scale of what surrounded us. What we did see were rolling hills of gold and green with clouds slinking in and out of the valleys. And along the side of the road, thousands of pink, purple, white and yellow lupines traced through the seams in the hills like creek beds. We drove through without lingering and carried hope that the return trip would be bathed in light.

The closer we got to the park and the lakes, the worse the weather turned. Clouds lowered, rain poured and wind blew. Off in the in distance, blue skies began to open over far away mountain peaks, but the direction we were headed was drowning in pea soup.

The landscape was dramatic. Despite the clouds, we could tell that the almost 30-mile long lake was turquoise blue and that the peaks towered up on either side with snow capped tops. And the valley opened up toward the glaciers with pale blue rivers roaring down the slopes. It was all there, but it was blanketed in fog and chilling rain. We pulled into the parking lot for our planned hike – the Hooker Valley Track and decided to sit in the car for an hour. Maybe the clear skies would finally catch up. It was only Noon.

The final drive into the pea soup in the park.

At one o’clock the clouds obscured even more of the mountains and the rain was steady and sometimes torrential. The mountains were not going to let the weather get away. And we weren’t about to make the whole trip for nothing. So we bundled up in rain gear, covered the camera and lenses in plastic and headed off down the trail in the rain. We got a 15-min break from the weather, but otherwise, we trudged forward in the wet.

 

The wet hike into the Hooker Valley Track.

 

Our 15 mins of clearing skies, looking down the valley toward Lake Pukaki.

The trail was still worth it. As the clouds drifted by we caught glimpses of the deeps blues of the glaciers in the peaks above and every once in awhile sun would peak out way off in the valley, illuminating the turquoise lake in the distance.  If you listened closely, every once in awhile you could hear the low rumble of the glacial ice moving, even above the roar of the river. It was a magical place.


Dave with the glacial snow fields in the peaks behind him.



 

A magical place.

The trail included a suspension bridge over the quickly moving, and very full river. I thought I was okay with it, until I reached the middle, felt the power of the river moving quickly about 70 feet below me and a gust of wind gently pushed the bridge side to side. Deep breaths, look straight ahead, and I kept walking to the other shore.

The suspension bridge on the Hooker Valley Track.

I'm still smiling, but holding on.

The further back we got toward Hooker Valley and the completely hidden Mt. Cook, the worse the weather got. Wind was ripping down the valley carrying sheets of rain. We turned our back to the wind and let it beat against our coats. We kept plowing forward, and turned a corner and came across two more, much larger, suspension bridges. Longer, higher up and right in the thick of the wind. I told Dave that was it for me. So we turned around and headed back to the car. It was worth the two hours of exploring, but we were shivering and wet and ready to warm up. Luckily there was a lodge down the road and hot chocolates and chili nachos did the trick.

We started to head back around 5 p.m., and the further we got away from the mountains, the more the blue skies that had been hiding all day began to show up. The valleys that were cloaked in mist on the drive up were wide open and shimmering in light and shadow on the way back. We stopped many times along the way and took too many pictures. Around every corner, the landscape and sunlight and clouds revealed a completely different story than just a few hours before.



Lake Pukaki slices the landscape in a turquoise blue.

The hills shrowded in clouds on the way to the park were now visible and dramatic in the afternoon sun.

The sun started to drop in the sky and cast beautiful shadows over a lake that had once seemed nondescript – showing off the snowy peaks high above that we hadn’t even realized were there. We pulled over to capture the image. And just as we were climbing back into the car, two giant rainbows appeared at the North end of the lake. The clouds gave us one last gift as they departed.

Despite the rain, the road trip was worth it. We should be arriving back into Queenstown around 9 p.m., still light out, and we will look for something to eat. And as much as I love rainbows, here’s hoping for a sunny day tomorrow.

Lupines in the late-day sun.

A lake with snow capped peaks behind it.


 



A gift after the rain.