Tararua Ranges Poem by Thomas Golding

TARARUA RANGES

In a life now past we are seated on a ridge
The tents are up and dinner cooks on our small spirit stoves
Time enough to watch the clouds
Leaping around like playful goats in slow motion
Shading in and out of gray through pink and yellow
Then back again.

It isn’t considered wise to camp at this height
Even in a saddle on such an exposed arête
Yet wisdom would be folly to pass up such a chance
And press on to a safe camp
The weather has been fine for days and forecasts longer
We weren’t total fools
There will always be time for wisdom
Some other day.

The wind feels cooler as the hills prepare to for night
Valleys darken as the shadow margin climbs towards us
This will be our last evening meal
Before meeting our transport tomorrow
There will be opportunities to watch the sky later
And take our minds from our abused stomachs.

The nights, the nights
What urban resident may know
The stellar wonder of our Southern sky
Washed pale by street lamps, car lights and hoarding glitter
Only see the faded Southern Cross or Milky Way
Never fully know a meteorite’s fiery plunge
Or watch the crescent moon loft between two peaks
Yet even young stamina must give in to need
Now sleep.

A fresh generation walks
Over familiar tops and valleys
Never again will this aging carcass travel
Where my boots once pounded down the tracks
Those beautiful safe holds from a frenetic world
They yet remain, as I once knew
As did those before us whom we acknowledged
Those who first showed the way
We pass them on in turn to you, you
And you.