couldent help it
permanent record
its justr there to see, easily
On the Search for Rock Wren in the Lord River Valley
June 7, 2018
Crystal Brindle + Save to a List
I could have done some preparation for this trip. I should have. But, all the same I didn’t. For reasons of being pulled in other directions, for having a little too much on my plate and honoring my tendency to say yes to everything I found myself short on time and mental energy to devote toward this upcoming week in the mountains. I barely managed to pack my bag and jump in the car when the time came to leave for the West Coast. As the hills of Southland turned into the hills of Otago I struggled to go over my mental pack list to ensure I had everything that I needed. Close enough it seemed, and besides, it was too late now to turn back.
“Hurry up and wait” is always the mantra for helicopter travel. I pace back and forth in the cold shadow of early morning in far too many layers than should be worn all the way down here. I even jump around and receive the curious attention of a charcoal grey fantail. I wonder, “how cold will it be up there” and “do I have enough warm gear?” After realizing I have forgotten to pack my beanie things are not looking especially good. But, as with before, there is nothing I can do now to change my preparation. The helicopter finally comes into view and it’s time to hop aboard and launch into an uncertain journey to an unknown place.
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I soon forget my fretful musings as I am drawn nearer to icefields draped over the staunchly rugged Southern Alps. I don’t think I’ve ever beheld such texture. Perfect white smoothness gives way to deep blue-grey cracks and jumbled piles of ice and rock. The sense of immensity is heightened as my eyes take in the changing scene at lightning speed. The expanse of ice lies like icing on a cake – swirly luminescent and creamy until it breaks with remarkable sharpness at the edge of a precipice, falling away into chasms, cliffs, and chalky waterfalls roaring with meltwater. It is the places where ice meets abyss that capture me the most. From my seat in the sky I nearly press myself against the glass trying to glimpse every detail of this meeting – the way the glacier expands as it tumbles over the edge, the pumping and hurtling waterfall that rushes between the sheerest of dark cliffs to somewhere below.
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More and more and still more of this ice-carved landscape unfolds as we draw nearer to our destination. Wave upon wave of mountains extend to the horizon in all directions as our flight path tucks us into the heart of branching river valleys flowing from the Southern Alps to the sea.
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Suddenly we come in low toward the head of a particular valley and I scramble to photograph our arrival. I don’t take note of much detail through the camera lens, just a range of commanding snowy mountains to my left and tussock slopes to my right. Next, we’re on the ground and I step back to see that range of mountains in closer relief as it adds a picturesque backdrop to the helicopter as it lifts off. The overwhelming noise of the chopper dies away, swept at once back toward civilization from where it came. We are left, ears ringing at the arrival of sudden stillness, in this brand-new valley to unpack, sort our gear, and get to work. The sound of the river is the first thing I notice and as we settle in it permeates into the background of this new world.
On the Search for Rock Wren in the Lord River Valley
