Breath of freedom
I miss the mountains (2 minute preview, 5 minute read)
It seems like a long time since I’ve been in the mountains. I realise this isn’t strictly true, because I did walk on Mt Kenya earlier this year, but it’s not African mountains that I’m craving. In years past, I had the occasional chance to hike above the treeline in the Southern Alps, the chain of mountains which form the spine of New Zealand’s South Island. There’s something about being there that lifts me in a way that nothing else does.
Years have slipped by without me setting foot in the mountains. For a while, my life took on a degree of complexity and chaos that made planning almost impossible. I’ve clawed myself out of that, but since then I’ve prioritised other things – mostly work. Now, though, I’m questioning my priorities. When I look at old photographs, I remember how I felt when I took them and wonder why I didn’t try harder.
So, now you all know what needs to be at the top of my list of goals for 2024. Mountains. In the meantime, I have my photographs and my memories, and I want to share some of these with you.
Part of the reason being high in the mountains is so magical, I suspect, is that it’s an environment which requires effort to reach. There are very few places in New Zealand where you can get in a car and drive above the treeline. You need to walk through the forest first.
I vividly remember the first time I crossed the treeline. I was in my mid-twenties, overweight, unfit, and walking with a friend who was in her sixties. She was very patient about waiting for me as I struggled. She told me not to apologise, but to point out an interesting plant or a nice view and pretend I was stopping for that.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably around 45 minutes, we left the forest, and every trace of exhaustion left me. Ahead was an open sweep of tussock grassland, rising to snow-topped crags. Between the clumps of tussock were clusters of flowers, native gentians, thousands of them, as far as I could see. I fell to my knees to look at them up close. Each white petal had delicate stripes of pink. They were perfect.
