Earth and sky at Tekapo, New Zealand
May 26th 2010 01:59
On either side of the car, endless, flat stretches of dun coloured tussock fade into banks of mist. Somewhere out there, are the mountains, but this autumn afternoon they’re lost in the rain clouds which wrap around us like a thick quilt. There’s nothing here – not a tree, not a house, not a single animal, not one other car – just us, heading in a straight, undulating line across the vast, dark landscape. There’s nothing here but earth and sky.
We’re deep in the heart of the Mackenzie Country, the high country at the foot of the Southern Alps in te South Island of New Zealand, where, a century ago, a Scottish sheep rustler fled with his stolen flock and opened up the pastures that would become, for a time, a stronghold of New Zealand sheep farming.
The road ends abruptly at the edge of a basin of unbelievable blue. Lake Tekapo gleams in its grey, stony mountain setting like an opal. On the shore sits the little church of the Good Shepherd, a tribute, no doubt, to the shepherds, even the dubious Mackenzie, who shaped this country. The stained glass window behind the altar looks out over the lake and in it Christ, the shepherd seems to walk on the water. Next to the church, Mackenzie's dog is immortalised in stone.
Tekapo township has grown and changed recently, the local people tell us. First, it was an outpost with little more than a general store and a service station. Then, it was hamlet with a few holiday houses for fishermen, trampers and down market skiers. Now it’s a smart tourist resort with a smart homes, state of the art lodges and chic hotels.
Boaties swarm to the lakes in summer and skiers to the slopes in winter. But that’s not what brings us and busloads of others here, in this twilight season. Tekapo, with its clear air and uninterrupted views, is also one of the world’s best windows on the southern night sky. Sited on top of Mount John, which rises steeply from the lake, is New Zealand’s largest observatory. While its primary function is scientific, the Mount John Observatory also offers star-gazing expeditions and tours of its giant telescopes, entitled, fittingly Earth and Sky. That’s why we, and most other people in Tekapo, are here this night.
Sadly that quilt of rain cloud blots out the stars, so we head to the lake shores where millions of perfect stones keep Otis and Matthew absorbed in the timeless art of “skipping” until darkness envelopes them. We people- watch in Pepe’s Pizzaria (it’s not quite the season, but the crowd is already seriously après ski) while the kids transfer the contents toy cupboard to their table and work their way through every last crumb of an extremely generous children’s menu. The night up here is dark, with only scattered studs of light, so we retreat to the heated floors and spacious, soft, stone-coloured luxury of our apartment at Peppers Resort.
The next morning, we open the curtains on sunbeams, blue sky, dotted with speeding tufts of white cloud, a stunning lake vista and a clear view of the craggy face of Mount John. By mid-morning we’re standing breathless on the summit, not because we’ve tramped the narrow, winding path to get here, but because, from here the earth and sky are breathtaking.
Again, it’s a landscape solely of earth and sky. But it’s not the misted, flat, featureless earth of yesterday. This is an earth of shadows, light, folds, seams, sharply contrasting colours, rivers, lakes, stands of trees, rocky outcrops, hills, cliffs and mountains. There are ribbons of road, threads of power lines and the thin filigree of a ski lift. Nor is the sky the dark, dense cover of yesterday. This is an infinite dome of sky, with prayerbook clouds spilling down shafts of celestial light. There's something about this earth and this sky that reduces us to silent, motionless specks.
Tekapo is the gateway to Mount Cook and the lakes. Most of the places we’ve passed through in the South Island, so far, seem to be gateways to somewhere else - Christchurch was the gateway to Canterbury, Timaru was the gateway to the Southern Alps (Geraldine was too!) Fairlie was the gateway to the Mackenzie Country and Tekapo - and each gateway seems to open to something even more spectacular. Yet, as we pass through the gateway and leave Tekapo behind, it’s hard to imagine anything more beautiful.
Lake Tekapo
We’re deep in the heart of the Mackenzie Country, the high country at the foot of the Southern Alps in te South Island of New Zealand, where, a century ago, a Scottish sheep rustler fled with his stolen flock and opened up the pastures that would become, for a time, a stronghold of New Zealand sheep farming.
Earth and sky from Mount John
The road ends abruptly at the edge of a basin of unbelievable blue. Lake Tekapo gleams in its grey, stony mountain setting like an opal. On the shore sits the little church of the Good Shepherd, a tribute, no doubt, to the shepherds, even the dubious Mackenzie, who shaped this country. The stained glass window behind the altar looks out over the lake and in it Christ, the shepherd seems to walk on the water. Next to the church, Mackenzie's dog is immortalised in stone.
Tekapo township has grown and changed recently, the local people tell us. First, it was an outpost with little more than a general store and a service station. Then, it was hamlet with a few holiday houses for fishermen, trampers and down market skiers. Now it’s a smart tourist resort with a smart homes, state of the art lodges and chic hotels.
Boaties swarm to the lakes in summer and skiers to the slopes in winter. But that’s not what brings us and busloads of others here, in this twilight season. Tekapo, with its clear air and uninterrupted views, is also one of the world’s best windows on the southern night sky. Sited on top of Mount John, which rises steeply from the lake, is New Zealand’s largest observatory. While its primary function is scientific, the Mount John Observatory also offers star-gazing expeditions and tours of its giant telescopes, entitled, fittingly Earth and Sky. That’s why we, and most other people in Tekapo, are here this night.
Sadly that quilt of rain cloud blots out the stars, so we head to the lake shores where millions of perfect stones keep Otis and Matthew absorbed in the timeless art of “skipping” until darkness envelopes them. We people- watch in Pepe’s Pizzaria (it’s not quite the season, but the crowd is already seriously après ski) while the kids transfer the contents toy cupboard to their table and work their way through every last crumb of an extremely generous children’s menu. The night up here is dark, with only scattered studs of light, so we retreat to the heated floors and spacious, soft, stone-coloured luxury of our apartment at Peppers Resort.
The next morning, we open the curtains on sunbeams, blue sky, dotted with speeding tufts of white cloud, a stunning lake vista and a clear view of the craggy face of Mount John. By mid-morning we’re standing breathless on the summit, not because we’ve tramped the narrow, winding path to get here, but because, from here the earth and sky are breathtaking.
Again, it’s a landscape solely of earth and sky. But it’s not the misted, flat, featureless earth of yesterday. This is an earth of shadows, light, folds, seams, sharply contrasting colours, rivers, lakes, stands of trees, rocky outcrops, hills, cliffs and mountains. There are ribbons of road, threads of power lines and the thin filigree of a ski lift. Nor is the sky the dark, dense cover of yesterday. This is an infinite dome of sky, with prayerbook clouds spilling down shafts of celestial light. There's something about this earth and this sky that reduces us to silent, motionless specks.
Tekapo is the gateway to Mount Cook and the lakes. Most of the places we’ve passed through in the South Island, so far, seem to be gateways to somewhere else - Christchurch was the gateway to Canterbury, Timaru was the gateway to the Southern Alps (Geraldine was too!) Fairlie was the gateway to the Mackenzie Country and Tekapo - and each gateway seems to open to something even more spectacular. Yet, as we pass through the gateway and leave Tekapo behind, it’s hard to imagine anything more beautiful.
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