Heli hike on the Tasman Glacier

Piercing ice and dramatic Minarets in Aoraki/Mt Cook

By Brandon Wang

December 27^th, 2023

Up into the air

Like it is for many people who visit Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park, the helicopter ride and glacial hike on the Tasman Glacier is a New Zealand must-do.

Riding a helicopter— our first time— was a symphony of adrenaline. From the initial anticipation of watching other helicopters at the airport and awaiting your turn. To the moment you climb aboard and, seconds later, it wobbles off the ground and your heart skips a beat. All the way through to when you land, ducking your head to avoid the rotors thundering above. They tell you in the safety briefing that it will be loud, oh so loud, but the engine's roar as downdraft winds buffet your body is a feeling truly difficult to anticipate.

We were fortunate. It's generally recommended to schedule your Aoraki helicopter tours at the start of your stay; that way, if the weather threatens the precarious glacial landings, you can rebook for the following days. Even so, when we were informed our afternoon flight had been put on hold, we were dismayed. We dutifully called in every hour to check on the status (as we were told), losing hope with each response the same. But two hours before takeoff, we received updated news: our flight was back on! the 9am and 11am tours had been canceled. But our 1pm was good to go.

The Mt Cook Airport was unbelievably busy when we arrived, with helicopters departing every 10 minutes. We and our bags were weighed; our route from one "safe" tarmac square to the next was carefully planned. Standing on the tarmac, time seemed to slow as we watched our designated chopper slowly land. But then everything became a mad dash. Not 1 minute later, we were in the air.

Beware the ice

The ice, as it turns out, can hurt. When we first land, we're asked to scamper to a spot about 20 feet away from the helicopter and kneel on one knee for maximum stability. When the chopper takes off again, the wind is strong enough to knock us off our feet.

The ice digs into my leg as I kneel. I'm worried about it ripping my pants. Another member of our group puts her hand on the ground (against the advice of our guide) and immediately cuts her palm. We spend the next few minutes tending to her injury.

The ice surrounds us. It is massive— relatively flat near our landing site, but only meters away quickly folded and creviced. It is deep— in many places, over 50 meters into the ground. It also stretches up into the mountains; in most places, the dark soil we see is just a thin layer of dirt covering even more ice.

But the ice is also malleable. The guides didn't come with a set route (although some hikes are predetermined, just not ours)— instead, they wander in the general direction of our pickup point looking for landscape naturally suitable for our beginners-allowed group. Where necessary, they make quick work of nature with their ice picks. It's remarkable watching how fast they can craft a set of steps or knock more traction into the ground.