The Winter Weekend Amidst the Summer Year: Mueller Hut (June 1-3)

We were all feeling low energy at the start of this adventure, our maybe-actually-final adventure, sans Lodie this time, but with the addition of Dylan’s childhood friend Natalie. We jumped in the car on Sunday, after pushing off our initial plans to leave Saturday because we were all tired and, serendipitously, Lodie missed her flight on Friday so we all got to spend a bonus day together in Christchurch, exploring our local farmer’s market and watching the sunset over the coastline. 

Thus, spirits were sad on Sunday morning as we piled into Sal and headed West yet again. All semester Frank has been lamenting the fact that we always drive by Lake Pukaki with a view of Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park, but had not yet taken that conspicuous right hand turn, with its exceptional drive into the valley and incredible access to the mountains. This weekend we finally did it, taking the winding road up towards the Hooker and Tasman valleys. Of all the roads in New Zealand, this is one of my favorites, and every time I’ve driven it I’ve felt so exceptionally lucky. Those drives have fallen at notable points in the semester–week one of field camp, when everything still felt uncertain and hard, about halfway through, with my parents on our way to the Hooker Valley after skydiving, and now, on the cusp of my departure from this country. It’s been lovely to watch the seasonal changes here, too, as the hot summer of late January has faded into the stormy, wintery conditions we encountered on this trip, with a perfectly crisp Fall day in between.

In towards the valley we drove, soaking in a sun-soaked early afternoon. We arrived at the carpark around 1 and dilly-dallied for a while, listening to house music loudly and making utter fools of ourselves. Our second carload arrived soon after, we all geared up, and off we went, for yet another 3 mile, 3k of vert, 3+ hour journey into the mountains. 

To start, the trail featured 2,000 stairs, which were clogged with tourists heading halfway up to Sealy Tarns, a stunning viewpoint of the Hooker Valley. The second bridge on the Hooker Valley Track is down, which means the track is closed, likely contributing to the high level of congestion we experienced on the trail. The day was bright, clear, and mild, and for the first time in a while I was down to my tank top and shorts, sweating as we ascended. 

At Sealy Tarns we stopped for a break as the wind picked up and the temperature shifted down a few notches. After layering and eating some sour gummy worms we headed up again, into the rest of the hike, which was a straight uphill scramble. As we got further up, the trail started to get icier and snowier, until we were walking straight up a slope of snow, at which point some of us put on our rented crampons. The wind was whipping, and as I looked uphill at what we had left to ascend, I began to feel that we were going to be hiking in the dark. (I’m sitting next to Frances as I type this, and I actually made her go through and tell me how many times we arrived at a hut in the light together this semester. The answer is 2. Out of probably 13.) 

Crampons on (backwards, as it turns out) I tramped ahead confidently, as Dukes and Natalie ascended ahead of us to catch sunset from the hut. Up we loped as the wind continued to pick up and the trail continued to get more and more slippery. Before too long we made it to the ridge, where we were rewarded with unbelievable views and far stronger wind gusts. We were looking out over all of the Hooker Valley in front of us, with rows and rows of the Southern Alps to our right and a solid wall of glaciated mountain to our left. As it turns out, we had ascended above the Mueller Glacier, which snaked along the valley below us. The mountainside above the glacier was full of ice flows, dirty and debris-covered, with incredible striations as they all slid down into the valley. It was jaw-dropping, and also sunset, so this entire view was covered in a haze of peachy pinks and golds. Aoraki was entirely visible as the light changed on the snow-covered slopes, and Lily was so overcome by it all that she cried. I have been blessed with some truly awe-inspiring sights this year, and this one has to be near the very top of the list. 

4:16pm

5:07pm

We whooped and hollered our way to the hut, picking our way along a ridgeline with a huge drop-off to the valley below. Before long, right as dusk was truly starting to settle, we spotted the red hut, perched perfectly for 360o views of the surroundings, and hightailed it in. 

The hut was relatively empty, with a couple of other parties of 2-3 people, so we obviously started making too much noise and made sure the place filled right up. After a meal of mac and leftover-maybe-rotting peas (doused in salt to cover the sour taste), we all curled up for another blissful night in a spectacular hut. 

The night was not entirely blissful, with crazy high winds blasting the hut near-constantly, but I still awoke in high spirits after more than ten hours of sleep, completely necessary after a low-sleep last week. We were up for sunrise, which is at 8am these days so very reasonable to wake up for, and I sat perched on a rock as Aoraki was bathed in more pink, and golden light crept along the peaks. It was cold and windy but perfect, another truly magical display. 

After oatmeal in the hut we hunkered down in the kitchen area, which had bunks lining the walls, and all set about reading/napping/soaking in the day. We proceeded to do that… all day, feeling the hut warm as the sun made its way over the horizon, warming us up more than any sleeping bag could. Dylan and Natalie made their way down around noon to get back out of the valley for a skydiving appointment the next morning, and the rest of us continued to loll about for all of the daylight hours. Lily, who sustained a truly gnarly fall on her hand earlier in the day, slept by my side for hours as I finished a book and did some Sudoku. It was incredibly peaceful, and reminded me how much I love a downday in a stunning place.

All day I watched as weather drifted in and out of our valley like a curtain over a stage, one minute completely wrapping us in a snowy fog, snow hitting the windows of the hut sideways and melting in jagged drips and the next second opening up to reveal the glaciers and mountains all around us. The wind howled practically all day long, and Frank and I exchanged the slightly-panicked same look every time it sounded a little too loud. 

Around sunset I got antsy, and climbed out of my sleeping bag to go for a walk. Looking out over the edge of the cliff down at the glacier, I was hit with a gust of wind so hard I actually fell backwards, a first for me. Eventually, Frank, Dukes, and I converged on top of the ridge to watch the intense pinks and blues over the valley, crawling on all fours to avoid getting blown off the edge. It was stunning. Never have I been more grateful to have all day to just sit and be somewhere so amazing. 

5:23pm

5:24pm

5:31pm

After my latest leftover innovation of evil ramen in a peanut curry sauce with broccoli and tofu, we called it early again, gearing up for our big descent the next day, which was forecast to include high winds and some showers in the morning. 

We were up before sunrise the next morning with nothing much to see, besides one patch of brilliantly pink light I observed for a few minutes before it disappeared behind the encroaching bank of clouds. After oatmeal we packed up and left, kitted out for the cold more extensively than I have been all semester. With my crampons on the right way we departed, directly into a windy, snowy world with a fresh dusting over the ice and mud of our ascent. As I caught snowflakes on my tongue, I knew it to be true–at least for the day, the summer year was over and done. 

Sunrise pinks

Our descent was far easier than I expected, with the crampons making me and Lily feel invincible, and we were soon over the ridge and into the less windy section of the journey. The snowiest part of the ascent went off without a hitch, and soon enough we were back at the stairs, in the rain, thawing out. Crampons off, gummy worms eaten and down we went, crushing the stairs in only 45 minutes. By the time we got back to the car, the rain had let up, we were all ravenous, and it was time to take Lily and her hand to urgent care. Back out of the valley we drove, a veritable storm swooping in behind us, obscuring the mountains we’d just been amongst.

Initially, we’d had big plans for a ten-day road trip that would deposit us back in Christchurch the day before our final exams, and two days before I would be leaving the country. Instead, we made the call to all head back, for Lily’s sake and also for the rest of us. It’s been a hell of a semester, and we’ve been on a hell of a lot of adventures. Now, it’s time to go home. Time to rest, to study, to pack, to take it easy. This week I’ve been spending more time in the library than I have all semester, sleeping in and feeling the semester slip away. For the first time on one of my big abroad adventures, I think this one is going out with a fizzle, not a bang. And frankly, after all of the mountain peaks and cold swims, nights in a hut and sunrises, a big ole bang of a semester, that feels pretty alright.