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Yeah, I kinda like it...
Dec. 2nd, 2008 07:53 pmMy immune system is slowly getting on with the viral butt-kicking. Actually made it through work today, though subsequently my brain has the consistency of cold noodles.
Let me tell you about the mountain.
Mount Wellington rises up in great leaps and curves from the indigo waters of the Derwent estuary. Crowned with the striking geometry of granite pillars, the mountain shelters the little city climbing up around its feet, buffering us from the frigid force of the Roaring 40s.
With river below and wind-swept granite above, the mountain stretches out and up, swathed in the umber-green of eucalypts and heath-lands. But hidden in its folds and hollows are the sparkling greens of rainforest fragments. Gullies hung with tree-ferns usher through chattering rivulets, clear as glass; rock outcrops hung, cathedral-like, with epiphytes and an extravagance of moss. We stumble upon these ancient shrines to water on our wanders across the mountain's weathered slopes.
Hours vanish as track loops upon track, leading us straining up the steeper slopes and slipping down rocky screes, listening to the wattlebirds and fairy wrens scold our passing, and the wallabies crashing through the undergrowth in urgent evasion. Each time we leave,feet heavy and spirits raised, we know a new adventure awaits upon those puckered slopes.
***
Let me tell you about the mountain.
Mount Wellington rises up in great leaps and curves from the indigo waters of the Derwent estuary. Crowned with the striking geometry of granite pillars, the mountain shelters the little city climbing up around its feet, buffering us from the frigid force of the Roaring 40s.
With river below and wind-swept granite above, the mountain stretches out and up, swathed in the umber-green of eucalypts and heath-lands. But hidden in its folds and hollows are the sparkling greens of rainforest fragments. Gullies hung with tree-ferns usher through chattering rivulets, clear as glass; rock outcrops hung, cathedral-like, with epiphytes and an extravagance of moss. We stumble upon these ancient shrines to water on our wanders across the mountain's weathered slopes.
Hours vanish as track loops upon track, leading us straining up the steeper slopes and slipping down rocky screes, listening to the wattlebirds and fairy wrens scold our passing, and the wallabies crashing through the undergrowth in urgent evasion. Each time we leave,feet heavy and spirits raised, we know a new adventure awaits upon those puckered slopes.
