KEY POINTS:
Overseas tourist numbers are down, we're told. While that might be true nationally it's certainly not so in our house.
As Misha the Russian flew off (having left NZ minus five wallabies, sundry rabbits, a 7lb rainbow trout, a dogfish and numerous blue cod), David and Jill flew in from the UK. It was goodbye vodka and hello Cloudy Bay.
Sadly, Misha seemed to have taken the sultry summer weather with him so it was on a gloomy showery day that we crossed Burkes Pass into the Mackenzie Country.
Often there can be a dramatic transformation as one reaches the top of the pass - the coastal murk can miraculously give way to cloudless skies. Miracles weren't quite the order of this day however, although the rain had disappeared and an arc of blue sky seemed to be edging its way northwards.
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While the tour buses and campervans headed towards the turn-off to Aoraki-Mt Cook at the south end of Lake Pukaki, we turned off onto the Braemar Road, a gravel route that skirts the Lake Tekapo military training ground. It winds its way over ancient glacial moraine to emerge on the eastern shores of Lake Pukaki.
A battered red sign warns non-military personnel of the dangers of wandering into the tussocky training ground among possible unexploded ordinance.
It's possibly only marginally more dangerous that staying on the main road, where we South Canterbury locals are always on alert for overseas tourists who jam their brakes on as they first catch sight of the sweep of the Southern Alps on rounding Dog Kennel Corner just beyond Burkes Pass and leap out to take photos while their car remains in the middle of the highway.
Then there are those who - after viewing the stupendous view of Aoraki-Mt Cook from the lake viewpoint - seem to temporarily forget which side of the road they should be driving on.
Opposite us we can catch the glint of vehicles heading to and from the national park but on our side of the lake there's just us and a trail of dust.
We turn into the driveway of Braemar Station - our family have stayed in a farm cottage on the property numerous times over at least a decade.
The cottage looks a little smarter than last time with its new cladding of longline iron but thankfully it remains fundamentally the same - the old coal ranges is still in the fireplace, as is the giant pinecone. The red Formica kitchen bench is still there too.
The cottage sits perched on a ridge overlooking the lake and the saw-toothed ridges and vast scree slops of the Ben Ohau range.
When we first came here, you could, on a fine day also see Aoraki itself but the windbreak to the north has grown a little tall.
I suggest to the men that a quick shimmy up a poplar or two with the kitchen scissors would soon fix that but for some reason they're not keen. Anyway, they point out, the mountain is swathed in cloud.
Next morning however we can see a glint of snow, even through the leaves of the tree, so after shooing a fantail out of the cottage we set off to join the traffic heading towards Mt Cook National Park.
At the Lake Pukaki lookout a busload of Japanese tourists is busy photographing each other in front of the view - Aoraki glistens at the head of the milky turquoise blue lake but there are so many ladies with parasols it's difficult to see it at first.
"Every day I say the scenery can't get any better but it always does," says Jill as David photographs the trio of Aoraki, Mt Tasman and Mt Sefton.
We park at the start of the Hooker Valley track - there's now a large toilet block and shelter here - I think I can remember when there were just a couple of long drops somewhere in the trees.
We walk as far as a massive boulder that sits perched above the Mueller Glacier lake.
Along the way I've said hello to everyone we passed and kept my ears flapping. I am almost certain I'm the only native-born Kiwi here today, apart from one man who, remarkably, also comes from my hometown of Timaru. I feel like an endangered species.
Lumps of ice float in the water in front of the glacier's snout that is much further away than last time.
There's a splash and another piece of ice calves off the terminal face into the lake out of sight. Above us loom the icefalls on the flanks of Mt Sefton - tiny waterfalls stream down from slabs of crystalline blue ice.
As we sit, watching the passing walkers there's a crack like a rifle shot and a rumble - we scan the mountainsides but can't see the avalanche.
The walkers are a motley lot - there are the dedicated trampers in muted greens and browns, sinewy tanned legs sprouting from woolly socks and boots along with the less well equipped.
A young woman in a bikini top passes by - I hope for her sake we don't get a sudden southerly change but the men of our party reckon it's an outdoor clothing trend that's to be encouraged.
Back at park headquarters we sit in a nearly empty café with cold beers and a million-dollar view of the mountains.
Our visitors can't believe we haven't had to fight our way through throngs of visitors and pay exorbitant sums to park the car. They are also impressed with the newly revamped visitors' centre and so are we.
They are less enamoured however with the fate of the statue to Sir Edmund Hillary. This used to stand on the lawn in front of the Hermitage but now our great adventurer has been relocated to a concrete terrace beside the Hermitage's own café-bar.
I explain that the statue was commissioned by the Hermitage and is now adjacent to their new Sir Edmund Hillary Alpine Centre. David goes to investigate this and returns looking aghast having discovered there's an entry fee of $15.
"He's your national hero and we think of him as ours too . . . it should be free. And I don't think he'd be very happy to be stuck on a café terrace instead of in the tussock," he adds, pointing to the statue.
Lake Pukaki comes to the rescue of our party's equanimity, washing away any taint of commercialism.
The mountain air hangs hot, heavy and still. There is not a ripple on the lake's surface. The world has become a seamless orb of tawny mountain, cloudless sky and pellucid water.
- Jill Worrall
Pictured above: Aoraki-Mt Cook as viewed from Braemar Station on the eastern shore of Lake Pukaki. Photo / Jill Worrall
