Skip to main content

Learning is not compulsory... neither is survival.


...Now bear in mind that we began out ascent of the great behemoth at 10:43. We reached the summit at 10:59. The snow started to fall at 11.10. Our decision to abort the mission and leave in the face of gale force winds and increasing snowfall (as evidenced in the top photograph), was taken at 11:23.

It was at this point that Henry turned to me and said - in a French accent, oddly - "Daddy, Henry a bit cold".

So we headed back.

Here is the view from Henry's window as we endeavoured to manoeuvre our way out of the pickle we found ourselves in. Even the normally stoic Elmo was a little perturbed by the tempest that had arisen around us.



I will not lie to you, there were tears. A quick slap in the face from Henry calmed me down however, and we made our way gingerly back down to civilisation (via the bakery). To emphasise the shifts in weather, the photograph below was taken at 11:41, just eighteen minutes after the one at the top of the post. Finalmente!

Having learned our lesson, we begged her forgiveness. In her mighty majestic manner, she gave it freely.


On the way back, we sat in silence and considered our near brush with DEATH.

That's not quite true actually, we had Justine Clark's I like to sing on the car stereo, and I've not had a moment without the bugger circling my brain since.

But that, as they say, is another story.

Comments

yournotalone said…
What the hell happened there?

I thought a New Year happens in the midst of a proper summer over there.

Have a nice one!
What a great story, and what I have gone cold while I'm reading.
That all your wishes come true this year.
Anonymous said…
Aren't you supposed to climb a mountain, rather than drive a car up it?
Destitute Rebel said…
Quite an interesting story, I'm glad it turned out OK in the end.
USelaine said…
It's like you found a little teleportation platform to the mountains of California! Henry's fortitude is much to be admired.
Kitty said…
my goodness.
I didn't know it ever snowed on your end of the planet?!

You ought to write a children's book. Or an adult's book? I bet you'd be great at it?
Tash said…
I still can't get over it. How high is that mountain? It is summer there, right?
Glad that Henry had the presence of mind to get you back on track. :)
Kris McCracken said…
Aigars, we are too close to Antarctica for it to not have some influence!

MDP, I have a lot of wishes!

Enitharmon, c’mon, it’s 2009! Ideally, I’d like a rocket pack.
Kris McCracken said…
Destitute Rebel, good to see you back!

USelaine, he did grizzle in the mizzle.

Kitty, I have written one children’s book and countless adult ones (in my head).

The problem is pen to paper!
Kris McCracken said…
Tash, 1271 meters. Or 4170 feet. There is a road and walk paths up it. People ride their bikes up their too.

Fools.

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

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