Mid-July 2017, and after a week or-so of hugging our heaters here in Welly, we’ve just emerged from the arse-end of yet another miserable winter polar precip – something of a regular/annual occurrence, these days (who’s the orange-tinged ninny that keeps insisting climate change isn’t real(?) – *ugh*, gummon yo).
What that means for tops of ranges like the iconic “Rimutakas” (*actually remutaka, orthographically-speaking, but that’s another story) here in our nation’s capital, is: snow.
Nā runga rā: here’s another taster, a gallery of yesterday’s ‘mission up the maunga’, to further fuel that fucking fire…
We did see a rather irresponsible (brave(?) – yeah, nah) “hiker” up here with disturbingly bare pins hanging out of her budgie smugglers.
Just because you can, doesn’t necessarily mean you should, eh. And the thing that’s so darn noteworthy about Mount Climie’s upper reaches is the change factor – from zero to hero, essentially, and really quickly.
Basically, if we’re in the July portion of winter 2018 and there’s another polar storm: there will be snow, and: it’ll be fucking cold.
Be a sensible wee love and dress accordingly, Bro.
Ā tēnā, ‘haere pai atu, hoki ora mai nei’ (or: “go gently, and return safe and well”), always;