Let's go to the cold country.

The Snow-Gum by Douglas Stewart

It is the snow-gum silently,
In noon’s blue and the silvery
Flowering of light on snow.
Performing its slow miracle
Where upon drift and icicle
Perfect lies its shadow.
Leaf upon leaf’s fidelity,
The creamy trunk’s solidity,
The full-grown curve of the crown,
It is the tree’s perfection
Now shown in clear reflection
Like flakes of soft grey stone.
Out of the granite’s eternity,
Out of the winter’s long enmity,
Something is done on the snow;
And the silver light like ecstasy
Flows where the green tree perfectly
Curves to its perfect shadow.

Photo by Tim Best, 1972: uploaded from Flickr.

The steep, steep sides of Cinque Terre

Walking along the tracks cut into the hillsides of Cinque Terre, on the Mediterranean coast of Italy, could hardly be called bushwalking, and there were quite a few Aussie accents to be heard on the track as we walked: but what staggeringly beautiful views of the ocean, the hillsides terraced in olive trees and grapevines, the pink buildings clinging for dear life to the rock. The walk goes from Riomaggiore on the Southern end, up to Monterosso to the North. At Vernazza you can fall into the blue, blue Med if you were smart enough to bring your bathers. (I wasn't).
We also rode bikes in the hills above Cinque Terre. The weather was a bit on the wet and foggy side. The young Italian who rented the bikes to us looked doubtfully at the sky, and said, "Be careful. The weather can change very suddenly here." We found he was quite right. The fog rolled in, the rain came down, and to add a further element of drama, the track we rode on was littered thickly with big round seed-cases, and there were frequent mud puddles. Not quite picking my way through these hazards I cannoned into an electric fence at one point, and my daughter watched me catapult over the fence and down the forested side of the hill. She was just adjusting to her new status as an orphan when I clambered back up, sustaining lots of electric shocks as I dragged the bike free of the electric wire. I'm afraid it was never the same again, and nor was I. I did wish that someone had a camera handy though. Photo by Camille Nurka, 2005.

A view from the Larapinta Trail, N.T.

The McDonnell Ranges west of Alice Springs are not really desert country, as you can see from this shot by Janice Hughes, taken August 2008. There were squillions of dramatic sights along the Larapinta Trail; this is just one that I like.

The Larapinta Trail (oh, and RSS feeds too...)

I’ve just learned how to attach some RSS feeds to my blog, which is pretty exciting, though the ones I’ve chosen are a bit ho-hum. Are there RSS feeds from a bushwalking site, is the question on everybody’s lips. I will hunt about.

I also uploaded a photo from Flickr (the shot of Mt Sonder, see below), but to be honest it feels a bit tacky taking a stranger’s photo, so I won’t be doing any more of that.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I include a photo taken from the Larapinta Trail in central Australia, by my friend Janice Hughes. Walking out there you really notice the quality of the air, and the light: dry and crisp. The Larapinta Trail was only recently opened to walkers (2002), and my friends and I did it the easier way, a supported walk with Shane Fewtrell’s Alice Springs-based company, Treklarapinta. (www.treklarapinta.com.au) . Sleeping every one of those eight nights in a swag under a starry sky was very special, and I plan on going back for more of that.

View of Cradle Mountain from Marion's Lookout

Those tiny figures on Marion's Lookout were walking from Cradle Mountain to Lake St Clair, Tasmania. Peter, one of the walkers, took this gorgeous photo. Check out the luminous blues. The water in the tarns we met on the way was freezing, so I declined the invitation to swim.