I went to bed around 7:30 pm last night and got up around 6:15 am this morning - a reasonable sleep again but a little cool - a sleeping bag does nothing when thermals are holding the heat next to the body. I finally unzipped the bag this morning at 5 so I could get more comfortable - much better and no different warmth-wise.
It was a perfectly, stunningly clear morning - such irony! Still, the walk out was great - 2 hours in all. It was really cold packing up. I got the 10 am bus no problems and spent the trip back chatting to the talkative young driver from Queenstown, with his Southland “r”s (they sound Irish, as opposed to some Otago people who roll their “r”s in a Scottish fashion).
Fiordland is a very special place, especially when one makes the effort to get out into its wilder places. No photos, word, poetry or even memories can capture it - it is planet Earth before we humans started changing it.
Te Wahipounamu
Words cease.
Thoughts fade.
Clouds glide above snow.
Waters hiss and roar.
Winds caress.
Grasses bend.
Birdsong.
The sky, the land, the forest, the jagged mountains, point -
space, time, eternity.
Life, a grass-seed, falling slowly into the ever-flowing stream.
 |
| Morning sun on the mountains |
 |
| Valley still in shadow |
 |
| On the way out |
Te Wahipounamu
Words cease.
Thoughts fade.
Clouds glide above snow.
Waters hiss and roar.
Winds caress.
Grasses bend.
Birdsong.
The sky, the land, the forest, the jagged mountains, point -
space, time, eternity.
Life, a grass-seed, falling slowly into the ever-flowing stream.
