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following the stoney path that changes as we walk along under the ever green canopy of the beech forest feeling the soft moist leaf litter compressing beneath our feet smelling the fresh forest scent of dappled leaves, sounds of insects, cicadas. and beetles scurrying everywhere walking steadily upwards along the path as it crosses back and forth across the mountain side catching glimpses of eroded rock faces resembling an old man’s wrinkled countenance scarred and gashed the wounds of a thousand years hearing the roar of a waterfall not solittle willy wag tails flying to and fro, here and there seemingly dancing in front of us becoming our companion, chirping merrily as he flys beside us climbing higher, around a bend a wooden arched bridge comes into view approaching, crossing, looking down at the icy cold river that winds its cutting way so far below through the precipitous gorge the smashed ruins of the old swing bridge, hang down the side of the ravine far away |
crossing the bridge feet finding stone steps, now concrete feeling it cold and slippery as the ice crunches under our feet snow flakes falling ever so gently tall beech trees giving way to shorter stunted mountain beech tussock and snowgrass appearing as we meander upwards along the twisting path sounds of the waterfall becoming an increasing roar in our ears watching thousands of snowflakes drift lazily down, settling upom leaf and boughwater gushing out of the mountain side spray drifting across the ravine crossing, stepping on stones feeling the icy water penitrate our boots the snow transforming the mountain into a wonderous fairly land of snow and icenow, instead of mossy rocks, and gravel path tis upon soft white fluffy mounds that we do now tread the mountain appearing in all her finery tis if a beautiful lace tablecloth has been laid out upon her |
leaving shrubs and stunted mountain beech behind climbing up thru tussock and snowgrass mountain daisies, peering up thru the snow turning their white faces towards the sun does cheer our heart to see such glorious pixie faces peering out at us climbing up and over the summit gazing east to the tasman sea seeing the patchwork fields far below clouds swirling around our feet we are truly cloud walkers gazing north to the majestic mountains of nauraghoe, ruapehu and the conical volcano taranaki rising up from the surrounding plains into rangi hut, do we step grateful for the warm cosiness this does afford brewing up a pot of tea as the wind does blow snow now swirling, buffering wind driven sleet crashing against the windows driven snow finding its way beneath the door gas heating affording some warmth as the blizzard rages against all revelling in the rebellious moods of nature tis that which calls time and time again beckoning us back to the mountains. copyrighted©3rd April ’98 |