“Truly it may be said that the outside of a mountain is good for the inside of a man”
– George Wherry, Alpine Notes and the Climbing Foot, 1896
Mount Cook. Towering above New Zealand. My love at first sight. All other mountains that I have met in my life are undoubtedly no less majestic and eternal and beautiful, but standing in front of Mount Cook makes my heart flutter like nowhere else in the world.
This July I felt blessed. I spent time watching Mount Cook from the southern end of Lake Pukaki, across the teal waters. In the morning, in the afternoon, at sunset. I cheered when the morning clouds disappeared and revealed the mountain in all its snowy glory, rising high above the wide open space of the Mackenzie Country. I witnessed the most magical sunset clouds making the mountain glow pink. I woke up at The Hermitage and captured the first light kissing the top of Mount Cook, well before the rays reached the valley. I hiked towards the glacier lake at the foot of the mountain, feeling tiny and humble, and free. I sat wide-eyed (and I am afraid wide-open-mouthed too) as we flew in the helicopter towards it, and then around it, on the same level as the highest peak.
I watched it becoming smaller and smaller and then disappear over horizon on the day we left New Zealand. First from our car, then from our plane window, my face pressed to the glass until the white peaks stopped glistening and the vastness of the ocean took over.
See you next time, Mount Cook. I will miss you. But I have your pictures, in my heart.
