In the high alpine country of inner Australia the tired old wooden hut still stands to shelter the weary wanderer in an unforgiving environment. Nestled amidst the weathered snow gums on a grassy plain it silently sits humbly blending into the landscape, perhaps waiting still for the old stockman Jim Brown to return.
The now melted snow has given way to green grass spongy underfoot in the peaceful wilderness, the air always crisply cool feels fresh against the cheeks and the chirping sounds of a red brown finch hopping between branches can be heard. Imagine the tranquil musings of the old stockmen who roamed these plains long ago, a quieter time of lazily grazing cattle and sure footed mountain horses. Of camp fires under the star strung skies, love letters carried in saddle bags to keep them company and fresh billy tea to keep them warm.
Just before dawn on New Zealands South Island I was out on the edge of Lake Tekapo on an extremely windy and bitterly cold day.... View full product details
Along a quiet, country road, far less travelled than most in this area, lies a still, quiet pool of water, home to an abundance of... View full product details