Skip to main content

It is not length of life, but depth of life.


Last Friday, Henry, Jen, Ezra and I all climbed up Mount Wellington to check out the snow. There wasn't a lot, but it was cold enough to have preserved a small amount from the previous day's fall.


What was more interesting was the view from high up in the clouds. From down below, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Except for a small amount lingering at the summit of Mount Wellington.

This was our mission.

An ascent into the clouds!



I've more photos (of course), so stay tuned...

Comments

Roddy said…
I'm going nowhere! I'm waiting for more from the land at the top of the clouds.
I like the effect.
tony said…
Jeez! I Feel Dizzy!
Magpie said…
The pictures are wonderful and amazing...above the clouds.
 gmirage said…
hi kris! how are the boys? henry seemd he grew lots! haven't check for a really lont time and that's what i missed....seeing them grow up
JGH said…
That view is specatacular! The photos almost make me feel like I'm there...
Unknown said…
so beautiful... i love these shots.
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy, they are coming.
Kris McCracken said…
Tony, it is too cold up there for vertigo.
Kris McCracken said…
Magpie, it is a nice spot.
Kris McCracken said…
Mirage2g, we're still plodding along! They get a post every day, so no shortage of pics to see.
Kris McCracken said…
JGH, I actually have some better ones to come.
Kris McCracken said…
UH, it's hard to take a bad photo with such a view!
DougVernX said…
I like these photos. I'm a big fan of mountain climbing. What a thrilling site it is from the top. Thanks for stopping by my crazy blog. It's an honor to know someone from Tazmania.
Kris McCracken said…
Crazyasa, this is the best kind of mountain climbing: in a car!
Great quote and photos!

Popular posts from this blog

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.