April 6, 2017
Ahh always somewhere new to go. We go to Cradle Mountain National Park where the mountains are the cradle and we are all babies tripping over the landscape. Now these are some mountains! It's really pretty. There are so many colours. There's grassy shrubs and crispy bushes and rocks and creeping trees and little people standing on big boulders saying ohhhhh. The light is overcast and it's perfect for photography. I ask my dad if his parents took him camping as a child and if that's why he and my mom always took me. In my memories, there are always trees.
I'm so damn grateful for those trees. I'm glad we went places. I'm not sure how many days in a year we used to spend on the road but it feels like so many. I guess they were the ones that stuck.
Sunset calls so we go to the ocean as all sunsets should be spent at the ocean. Beautiful evening. The dunes neighbouring the beach are covered in thick grasses that sway in the wind and wink at the moon hanging overhead. Children jump over the little streams that are shiny like oil slicks in the fading light. Dirtbikers zip along the horizon as it turns colours. And 4x4s. It's a good day to watch the sun setting. More little people point at the point where the light disappears and say ohhhhh.
April 7, 2017
We have grand ideas of taking the train from Queenstown to somewhere but there isn't a train today after all. Instead, we go to the roads. Up the mountains, through the forests, around the peaks, stare down at the valleys. Like we used to when I was little. Go to the roads and get lost somewhere. We're one of the few cars following this dirt track behind Queenstown but it's full of lovely surprises. Unexpected lookouts; a man-made lake with fish.
April 8. 2017
We find a giant pit in the red rock of one of the last mountain passes and its insides are a deep blue-green. There is a metal walkway extending over its one deep blue-green eye looking up as we look down. It's a wound from mining but it can suck still the air of your lungs.
Then the land opens up. We leave the nestles of mountains for valleys with blue-horned crowns. The grasslands seem arid and remind me of the Okanagan Valley in Canada. I love how many different landscapes there are on this one, relatively small island. I love the new sights that my eyes are feeding my brain.
I am a creature of motion—a being of going. I love the inbetween moments of places when you are nowhere. I desire a nameless mountain more than a famous monument.
Oh I just want to see. This reminds me of what it is like to be.