Mackenzie Country folk know how lucky they are. I know this because they told me. Repeatedly.

"We think we're pretty lucky to be living here," says Allan, our driver. Through the windows of Allan's Cook Connection van the barren plains of the Mackenzie Basin rush by, stretching out infinitely in every direction.

It's spring and the land is multiple shades of brown, from the carpet of ochre grass to the chocolatey peaks that rise ever upwards, their tips hidden by flossy white clouds. Cyan coloured canals criss-cross their way between enormous lakes that sit like splodges of turquoise paint on an artist's palette.

This is a land of extremes. In a Mackenzie Country summer the sun can be so hot that tar bubbles on the roads. The dry, brown grass will be so crisp it's like walking across a field of toothpicks embedded in the arid ground. In winter hoar frosts cling, turning every tree, house and power line into a beautiful, jagged, sparkling ice sculpture. For weeks it's so cold that the toilet water may freeze, cracking the bowl in two.

As merciless as these conditions are, things must have been infinitely harder for the region's namesake - Scotsman, James Mackenzie - when he arrived in the 1850s.

"Mackenzie was a thief or a pioneer, depending who you ask," explains Allan.

"Legend has it that Mackenzie travelled through Burke's Pass and came through between those two hills there - Mackenzie's Pass," Allan indicates two brown hills in the distance. "Imagine how he felt when he finally saw all this land. Pretty lucky I imagine!"

James Mackenzie was indeed a lucky fellow. Although there are numerous tales about the adventures and the fate of the Scotsman, the general gist of the story places James and his legendary sheepdog Friday in possession of 1000 sheep, 'acquired' from a South Canterbury station. Mackenzie was arrested for theft. He escaped, was recaptured, imprisoned and recaptured again after numerous jail breaks. After serving less than a year of his original five year jail sentence, Mackenzie was pardoned and left the country, never to be seen again.

His legend, however, lives on. A bronze sculpture of Mackenzie and his loyal sheepdog resides in the main street of Fairlie. Another statue, said to represent Mackenzie's dog or, conversely, the general sheepdog population that helped farm this unforgiving land, stands proudly beside Lake Tekapo's famous Church of the Good Shepherd. The church and sheepdog duo are amongst the country's most photographed icons.

I've discovered that superlatives like 'most photographed' are a regional specialty. As well as the most photographed church, Tekapo boasts the country's clearest air. Twizel (just 40 minutes down the road) is home to the world's rarest wading bird and of course, Aoraki Mt Cook Village is where you'll find New Zealand's tallest mountain.

And I'm sure that if it hasn't been already, Lake Pukaki could be in the running for the world's bluest lake. As our van rounds a bend between Tekapo and Twizel, Lake Pukaki suddenly, dramatically appears - a magnificent shock of electric blue, surrounded by the forest green of pine trees. At the lake's far end Aoraki Mount Cook is shrouded in sharp, angry grey clouds. The unusual colour of the lake is incomparable. It's bluer than a newborn baby's eyes; bluer than the icy-blue Tasman Glacier from where the water stems. It's bluer than the mid-summer sky - so much so that on fine days, the reflection of Lake Pukaki can be spotted in the sky from miles away.

"People often ask us what we've put in the water to make it that colour," laughs Judy at the Lake Pukaki Visitor Centre - a popular photo stop nestled on the picturesque shore, a lake's length opposite Aoraki Mount Cook.

As artificial as it looks, the rare blue hue actually comes from a natural substance called rock flour - a very fine dust created when rocks are crushed inside the ever-moving glaciers at the head of Lake Pukaki. Because of its translucent consistency, rock flour doesn't sink but remains suspended in the water. Light diffracting around the rock flour projects back the unbelievable aqua colour.

Judy knows the science of the lake's colouring by rote. Come peak season, she and her colleagues explain this geological process every day, over and over again to gaggles of intrigued tourists. "You can't blame them really," says Judy. "We do have the best view in the country after all!

"Aren't we lucky?"

Today that view is partially obscured by thick murky clouds - the same bundle of winter-like weather that delivers snow overnight.

I awake at Omahau Downs B&B and heave back the sumptuous floor-to-ceiling drapes. Despite being only 1km from Twizel and set just off the highway, Omahau Downs feels isolated and tranquil - impressions encapsulated in the magnificent view from my room. Gentle sprinklings of diamond snow have covered the endless emerald paddocks. In the distance, the enormous white-washed opal sky curves to the horizon, interrupted only by the occasional towering pine tree.

I continue to admire Mother Nature's masterpiece as I feast by the fire in the toasty dining room. Hosts Sean and Nicola are in the kitchen conjuring heady aromas of fresh croissants, coffee and Danish pastries. The B&B operation is just one of three accommodation options at Omahau Downs - also on site are a comfy backpackers and a cute self-contained cottage, both with the unforgettable Mackenzie views and access to the Omahau Downs outdoor, wood-fired bath.

Imagine bathing beneath the gaze of the country's tallest mountain, breathing in New Zealand's clearest air, looking up at the reflection of the bluest lakes in the brilliant sky.

No wonder the Mackenzie folk think they're so lucky.

Amelia visited the Aoraki Mount Cook Mackenzie region courtesy of Destination Mount Cook Mackenzie.

Amelia is Content Editor for the New Zealand Travel and Tourism website www.fourcorners.co.nz.