The Mountains Call

‘The mountains are calling, and I must go.’ – John Muir.

At home among mountains

Of all the landscapes across the world, I feel most at home when I’m among the mountains. If there are mountains around me, I am happy. There is a constant nagging longing deep inside me to return to the South Island and be back in the midst of the peaks and summits, to be in their shadows, within easy reach of Mt Aspiring National Park, Aoraki / Mt Cook, The Remarkables… I want to be able to see their snow-capped peaks from my window, breath in the fresh mountain air and appreciate their raw, splendid beauty. I want to know all their mysteries, become a keeper of their secrets.

Contentment among mountains

I am content among mountains. I enjoy the shadow play as the dark shapes creep across the valley floor, whilst the sun inches across a periwinkle sky. The brilliant white snow softens their sharp crags and glows pink as the sun sinks below the horizon. The air is crystal clear, so cold that clouds of steam hang where I breathe. The silence is draped heavily around me. The mirror lake reflects the jagged peaks, perfect symmetry. Alone, in this pristine wilderness, with nothing but the ancient, secret mountains and their echoes for company, I can relax.

It has always been this way. In Wales, the mountains are wild and desolate in different ways. Mile after mile of ragged, brown-green moorland grass softens the mountain edges and their peaks are rounded by years of wind and rain. Bogs suck at your feet, tug at your shoes, eager to swallow you. Nothing but a sea of tussocks and expansive steel and iron skies. I seek the quiet, hidden spots. When you know where to look, they’re easy to find.

Hiking among mountains

The top of Drygarn Fawr, with the cairn at my back and the wind so strong and cold it leaves me breathless. I sit and watch the clouds scudding across the sky, watch as rain drifts across the landscape some distance away. From this vantage point, I can see for miles in every direction. I am queen of all I survey. From here, I can see the Beacons, grey-blue from this distance. I recognise the jutting peak of Fan Brycheiniog, with Llyn y Fan Fach lying hidden in the hollow below.

I remember traversing the circumference of this lake, the sky leaden above us. As we began the final ascent to the ridge, snowflakes started to fall thick and fast, settling softly, gently on my coat. Underfoot, our feet crunched in a layer of frozen snow. Clouds lowered themselves to squat heavily atop the highest point, obscuring our way. We didn’t reach the summit, but stopped before we entered the cloud bank, cautious and worried about getting lost.

Triumph among mountains

A month later, we scaled the heights of Snowdon, step by weary step. We were not alone, a steady stream of others climbed alongside us, ahead of us, behind us. At the summit, North Wales spread out below us, as far as the eye could see. On top of the world, triumphant in our feat and humbled by the scale of what we had achieved, our leaden, aching limbs proof of our accomplishment.

Mountains are a metaphor for how we choose to live our lives. You can take the easy path, the pass through the flower strewn valley and emerge safely on the other side, unchallenged and dissatisfied, or you can put yourself in the way of the mountain’s stark majesty and overcome the tests the mountain throws at you to reach the top, safe in the knowledge that everything you have in you has been put into the climb and you have succeeded and been rewarded for your efforts with that magnificent panorama that is spread out at your feet. There’s the world, and it’s your oyster.

Quiet among mountains

In the heart of Mt Aspiring National Park, all is peaceful. The river chatters and clatters over and around pebbles, boulders and rocks, meandering through the valley towards Lake Wanaka. On either side, the ground slopes steeply away, reaching for the heavens. A waterfall glistens in a last brief ray of sunshine as it courses its way down the hillside, the water tumbling and roiling. The chilly breeze touches my cheeks, which are pink from fresh air and exercise, and tugs at my clothes, making me shiver. I’ve just hiked to see a glacier and it’s been wonderful, the only sounds to accompany me being the wind in the trees, the blue ice creaking as it inches down the side of the mountain and the rush of icy torrents in the river below the path.

Welcome among mountains

It’s nearing the end of the short winter’s day and the sun has now vanished behind the highest peaks. The valley is plunged into deep shadow. It is time to leave the mountains to their overnight slumber under the wheeling pinprick stars. When I see them tomorrow, early, they will be adorned with a spangled frosting, glittering under a bright new sun. Tendrils of mist will cling to their lower slopes, so that only the highest peaks can be seen, soaring above. I will drink my fill of this view and feel at ease with the world. I will put myself in the way of beauty. The mountains will welcome me home.

This post was updated on 18th August 2019, with new images added. To read more about my time in New Zealand, check out my New Zealand archives.

When hiking in mountain environments, remember to always stay safe, tell someone where you’re going and be appropriately equipped for the conditions. Check out this page for more useful tips and information.