WRITING PROMPT RESPONSE

The Blinding White of the Southern Alps

Spending summer down under doesn’t mean I don’t get to see snow this December

It was just so bright. The white of the mountains. Next to the dark green of the lush vegetation on both sides of the mountains, the contrast to the colorless glacier was indescribable.

And maybe even a little unreal.

I wasn’t sure I had something to write about when JoAnn came up with the prompt for this month. I assumed I’d have to go through the folders on my hard drive and dig out some old pictures of snowy landscapes.

I’m in summer after all. Spending December in the southern hemisphere in New Zealand means I’m not getting any Christmas feelings. Except for some decorations in the supermarkets, I have nothing reminding me of this, for so many, a very stressful season.

And I’m happy about it.

I don’t need to go shopping, wrap presents, or prepare a feast. I can just go about my business, work and go on hikes whenever I have some time off.

But then I was wondering about that snowy theme. Something white, where do I find it if I can’t convince my husband to climb high into the mountains?

It seemed it was just waiting for me around the corner as we were walking up the valley along the Matukituki River.

The bridge leading to the popular Rob Roy’s Glacier Viewpoint has been closed this entire year already and it doesn’t seem as if they will do the necessary maintenance work on it this summer still.

Just as we passed the bridge, the mountain range to our right broke off into a little gorge allowing just enough sight of the massive peaks behind.

There he is.

Rob Roy’s Glacier.

I couldn’t believe how I was standing so low in the valley, walking in shorts and a t-shirt between herds of sheep and looking up onto this massive sheet of ice.

That was a hell of a lot of snow and ice.

We both stopped and gaped in awe at the sheer magnificence of this view.

And this landscape of course. I’m not sure there are many other places in the world where a glacier descends into temperate rainforests.

And there wasn’t just one glacier to look at. Far ahead, possibly just above the land where we were planning on camping the night, more snow-covered mountains were towering above the lush green slopes.

More snow. More ice. More glaciers.

More blinding whiteness.

Yes, looking up from the dark forests and pointing my eyes at the whites of the mountains, I felt a little pain. It felt a bit blinding to be correct. I had to squint due to the strong light and that despite wearing sunglasses.

I pointed at a perfect line on the ridge of one of those far mountains ahead when David called it the “snow dune”. His description was spot on as that line looked like one on the dunes of the Namib Desert.

Removing my eyes from the mountains ahead again, I looked down but continued seeing white. With the right mindset and camera on hand, I had a lot to capture.

The sheep were our constant companions while walking along the Matukituki River and the sounds of the lambs calling for their mothers were echoing through the valley.

While I had certainly no intentions of distressing them, sheep are a little less intelligent than goats for example, and run away and around out of no reason whatsoever.

On some more narrow stretches of the trail, I was forced to walk past them and the lambs would begin to panic running in the opposite direction their mothers went.

I continued walking knowing they’d get reunited once left alone again.

So what else is white except for some fluffy sheep out of whose wool some great Merino clothes get made?

The face of a painted calf. That’s at least what I called this happy cow roaming the mountain pastures. Cute but certainly gifted with a very unique skin coloring.

And soon our campsite was in sight and it seemed our new tent was white after all. So was the overcast sky.

Walking deeper into the valley the next morning, we saw snow getting blown off the top of the mountains indicating strong winds. Just looking up there, I felt a chill running down my spine.

Behind the other mountain, it seemed as if a cloud was trying to rise but I’m sure it was also just snow getting blown off the icy top of the mountain.

And just as we were mesmerized by the blinding whiteness, we heard the roaring sound of an avalanche crashing down the cliffs on the mountain to our left.

There were many ditches, ridges and creeks between us and the avalanche but we still felt a hint of fear as the thundering sound of the crashing ice was echoing in the valley.

But enough talking about snow and ice. What about water? It’s deep blue down in the river below but while falling from the cliffs it shines rather white, don’t you think?

Even more so as it contrasts the lush green mossy landscape inside the forest.

Back out on the meadow, I found some white December decorations.

A white blooming beauty in the mountain pasture.

And this particular plant drew my attention on the way in and out. I have no idea if it’s moss or lichens or maybe even something different.

It’s hard in texture. Yes, I had to touch it. And it grows a few centimeters in size covering the meadow in a few spots but also thriving on rocks and bark in the forest.

Some of it grows on twigs and branches. If it’s the same species.

Finding more whiteness as the blue sky makes space for some unique cloud formations.

Do you see the hearts in the clouds is all I want to know. If so, I’m sharing some love and joy with you.

And before you begin to worry about me lacking out on Christmas feelings, I’d like to share with you our indoor tent lights. Sure, torches and headlamps would do as well but whenever we camp, whether it’s in Europe, Africa or now in New Zealand, fairy lights are always part of the lighting.

This is a writing prompt response to JoAnn Ryan’s monthly challenge at In Living Color.

Read other prompt submissions from excellent writers out here:

Christina Daniels with “A Christmas Market in the Snow”

Barb Dalton with “Snowflakes are Pretty — But Pretty Challenging, Too!”

L Burton with “The Quietness of Snow”

Tim Ward, Mature Flâneur with "A Christmas Light Miracle on South 13th Street, Philadelphia"

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