The Minarets on Christmas Eve, with the Tasman Glacier in the foreground
Christmas Eve came on a high-pressure front, bringing with it the best weather I'd yet seen in New Zealand. By lunchtime there wasn't a cloud in the sky, making Mt Cook shine like a huge beacon, and the three of us popped into town, stocked up on genuine Christmas fayre (as the retail trade likes to call it) and stuffed our packs to the brim. No way were we going to spend the festive season in the campground; instead we were going to Ball Shelter, some 16km from Mt Cook village, up the huge Tasman Glacier. Ball Shelter sleeps about six, has very few amenities, and has stunning views of the Minarets, a pretty little multiple-peak mountain that's heavily covered in snow; it's not a bad spot for Christmas.
Ben and Mira at the door to Ball Shelter
The trek to Ball Shelter, over 9km of rocky paths from the ice-face of the Tasman Glacier (the 'terminal', as it's known), was very pleasant as we followed a small valley, surrounded by steep, rocky slopes on both sides (where avalanches frequently happen in winter). However, what we didn't realise was that this valley was running up the west side of the Tasman Glacier, so when the track finally went over the top of the little valley wall, there was the glacier laid out in front of us. Breathtaking isn't the word; the glacier is about 3km wide, carving out this huge valley through the mountains under a covering of evil-looking moraine. It's a lunar landscape, but one with watery potholes everywhere, gurgling and cracking as the whole mass slowly grinds down towards the terminal lake. The hut is precariously balanced on the side of the glacier, so that about 20 feet from the front door is a long, vertical, 150m drop into the depths of the glacier; it's some view.
So there we were, the three of us, in the middle of nowhere, with not a cloud in the sky as the sun slowly slipped behind the craggy peaks. After lighting a fire and doing as little as possible after the long haul, we started to cook; but this was not just any meal, this was our Christmas meal. The menu was as follows, all created on a camping stove in the middle of absolutely nowhere:
Entrée
Asparagus spears in butter and black pepper
Main dish
Pan-fried loins of lamb
Petit pois
Carrots
Creamed potatoes
Dessert
Christmas pudding and fresh cream
Coffee
With mince pies
Beverages
Delegat's Cabernet Merlot 1995
Guinness Extra Stout
Black Mac
Speight's Distinction Ale
Christmas Eve sunset over the Minarets
It was without a doubt the best meal I'd had on the road for some time, and the views made the front room at Mt Cook village's famous Hermitage Hotel look pretty poor. The clear skies and twinkling stars, the pastel-coloured afterglow on the peaks as a full moon rose over the Minarets; it takes a lot to beat that sort of vista. It was the perfect place for Santa to fly across the sky in his sleigh...
Waking up on Christmas morning to total peace is, if your family is anything like mine, novel. Looking down at the Tasman Glacier, still gurgling away, made quite a change from looking through the mists of a hangover, and before long the kettle was boiling and Christmas breakfast was on the go, consisting of:
Breakfast
Pan-fried chipolatas with sweet chilli sauce
Haricot beans in tomato sauce
Scrambled eggs
Focaccia
Real Ceylon tea
Laden down by packs and full stomachs, we sauntered back to the car park, had some lunch, and drove back into the village to recover. After a shady incident involving an exploding stove in the public shelter, we showered and went up to the Hermitage for a lazy afternoon staring at Mt Cook, Mt Sefton and the cloudless sky. And so ended an excellent and unusual Christmas.
