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lukemusik · 7 months

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An alpine flat on the sabine-travers circuit in Nelson lakes national park, New Zealand

#zealand #hiking #new zealand #tramping #landscape

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everythingisconfetti · 1 year

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Avalanche Peak, Arthur's Pass National Park

#i will never stop being grateful that i have these mountains in my back yard #hiking #trail running #my photos #photography #scenery #mountains #aesthetic #outdoors #new zealand #tramping

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jontycrane · 11 months

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Banks Track - Ōnuku to Flea Bay

The oldest private hiking track in New Zealand, the Banks Track is a scenic, varied and enjoyable 31km 2-3 day hike on Banks Peninsula, an hour and a half from Christchurch. As a private track it offers more comforts than DOC tracks, including 15kg luggage transfers between the lovely track accommodation, showers, and private room options, but it is still a decent hike, with 700m climbs on the…

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#Akaroa #Banks Peninsula #Banks Track #Flea Bay #Forks Gully #GG Trig #Hike #Hiking #NZ private track #Onuku Farm Hostel #photography #Tramp #tramping #travel #Walk #walking

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ksparchomchuk · 2 years

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Exploring Piha

New Zealand

#piha #surfing #cave #beach #trekking #tramping #hiking #landscape #waitakeres #auckland #new zealand #travel #outdoors #nature

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year

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“Evicted From Farm, Take to Highway,” Kingston Whig-Standard. October 26, 1932. Page 5. ---- Family Refuse Help Enroute From Gananoque — Little Tots Walking ---- Gananoque, Oct. 26— Giving Kingston as their destination and refusing all offer of a lift there or assistance of any kind, a party of seven persons, which included an elderly lady, two small girls of six and seven, a boy of six, a girl of twelve, and two boys of about sixteen and seventeen, were seen by a Whig-Standard representative on Highway No. 2 about eight miles west of Gananoque at ten o'clock yesterday mornnig. The same party, it is understood, were seen travelling west along the county roads north of Lansdowne on Monday where rumor had it that they were evicted from their farm.

Commiseration was felt for the party by many who witnessed their plight, with the little tots bravely trying to keep up the pace set by the older members who seemed anxious to make as rapid progress as possible.

At 11 a.m., they reached the Silver Slipper Inn about half way between Gananoque and Kingston, where they stopped to enquire the time. James Wood, proprietor of the Inn, insisted that the party come in and have some food, although they were very diffident about entering and accepting his offer of help and had to be assured several times that then would be no charge. However, they went in and after hastily eating the meal prepared for them, rushed out and continued their trek westward, refusing the offer of a lift to Kingston from both Mr. and Mrs. Wood and the Whig-Standard reporter, who had made a vain effort to secure the names of the unfortunates and the ultimate object of rendering assistance. Not content to see them depart on such a long journey with the little ones, without making one more attempt to help them, Mr. and Mrs. Wood and The Whig-Standard man followed the party a short distance up the road and repeated their offer of a lift to Kingston, in the hope that the children might be saved the long hike. However, the marchers continued on their way, the elderly lady saying that her husband was meeting her.

Returning to the Silver Slipper, Mr. and Mrs. Wood and the reporter discussed the oddity of the situation for a moment after which the reporter drove to within seven miles of Kingston without finding a trace of the walkers. Whether they had accepted a lift from someone else in the face of their persistent refusal of Mr. and Mrs. Woods and the reporter, or whether they had taken to the woods to wait for the protecting cover of darkness before continuing on their way is not known, but their disappearance was complete.

#gananoque #kingston ontario #rural poverty #rural canada #evicted #farm evictions #losing the farm #farming in canada #long march #hitting the road #tramping #great depression in canada

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marcherren · 2 years

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Home sweet home (vintage «Spatz» solo tent)

shot with Voigtländer Bessa 6x9 on Ilford HP5+

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jugs-and · 1 year

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[12/22] Bell Rock, Hawkes Bay

Photo from a boys trip two weekends ago. S- had been bugging me to do this, and finally he proceeded to plan the trip himself. I could explain it from COVID lingering in the social scene, we haven't had a social season like this in over three years. I've come to a place where the more pronounced impacts have been on our relationships and how we have avoided the worst of it all, but the scars still remain on our fragile needs for human connection.

The Christmas season has been hectic, and I feel somewhat older this year, somewhat more tired. The fresh air and crunch of leaves underfoot brings me to a new world.

#travel #green #photography #new zealand #forest #hiking #hawkes bay #sunlight #sunset #tramping

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ammg-old2 · 1 year

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Even now, after all these years, my shins are still tender to the touch. My husband will roll over in his sleep, brush his leg against mine and suddenly it’s like there’s no skin, no flesh, no fat, no muscle on the bone. It’s like I’ve just pulled myself out of the Swiftcurrent River and I’m lying in the cool grass, hot tears on my face, half-naked and covered in blood, propping myself up on my elbows to look down at my shins only to see them swollen and black. Every rock on the riverbed that day a fuck you.

But I didn’t drown. I didn’t fall. I didn’t crash.

You know what they say — play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

And I have been very, very stupid. So why am I still alive?

If you are someone who ventures into the wilderness, you don’t want the answer to that question. You want order. We all do. But the pines of the forest, the sands of the desert, the snowy couloirs of the mountains, they will not give us that.

During the winter I worked in Big Bend, I read Death in Big Bend. I read it in my trailer, which was infested with wolf spiders. They eyed me from beneath plates in cabinets. They crawled up from the drain when I showered, their crooked legs twitching as they ran from the moisture. I read it in the gravel yard outside, where packs of dark brown javelinas passed through, smelling like skunks and shrieking like ghouls. I read it by the Rio Grande, looking out into Mexico. Death in Big Bend is different from the other books. It focuses mainly on the rescue efforts of the rangers and names each chapter after a person who died, rather than relegating crowds of victims under headings like Air Crashes, River Deaths, Vehicle Deaths, Waterfall Deaths, Falls While Hiking. The tone of Death in Big Bend is kinder, the attempt to teach the reader a lesson more genuine. Reading Death in Big Bend doesn’t feel like gawking at a car accident or leaving a comment about Darwin on a news story. The book is an exploration of the sheer skill of the rangers who descended wall after wall of Cattail Canyon to rescue a stranded climber. The book is a sympathetic portrait of what it takes to recover the naked body of a suicide victim from the undulating and endless desert beneath the Chisos Mountains. It’s an anomaly for a reason. People want to separate themselves from death. They want to laugh at it or gasp in horror. Making it human brings it closer.

A sense of order pulls us back. And even though nature is chaos, we long for its code of conduct, we beg it to explain its reasoning. We make handbooks, hiking guides. We chronicle all the ways in which people have died so that we can learn from their mistakes. We make rules:

Rule #1: If you are unprepared, you will die. After Jakson’s body was found, the rangers noted that he was inexperienced. I felt the invisible sigh of relief among the folks who had been hiking and climbing in Glacier for years. They knew how to engage with these mountains. These mountains would let them live.

Rule #2: If you are disrespectful, you will die. The Canadian influencers had treated the wilderness with contempt, laughing as they filmed themselves doubting the length of its memory, its capacity for revenge. We learned this lesson from them, from others like them: Don’t hurt the animals, don’t litter, don’t trample fragile ecosystems. Be good and the landscape will be good to you.

Rule #3: If all else fails, trust the statistics. According to a 2020 study from personal injury law firm Panish Shea & Boyle LLP, most people who die in the national parks are men. The majority are between 55 and 64 years old. The leading cause of death in the national parks is drowning. You are more likely to die in Yosemite than you are in Death Valley. And you are more likely to die in North Cascades National Park than in any national park. But you can take comfort in knowing that there were less than eight deaths per 10 million visits to national park sites between 2007 and 2018.

Repeat these numbers on the trail at dawn when you hear the huffing of a bear on the cliffside below. Repeat them as you cross the river and feel it tug on your ankles. Repeat them when the lightning cracks the sky above you, strikes the rock beside you, lights the world up violet around you, reminding you for just a second that this is all just random and it is not the Oklahomans in jean shorts trekking into the Grand Canyon with cans of cola in hand who are fools, but it is you; you were a fool to believe that this is all some ordered system.

Trust the statistics. Trust the rules.

Remember, the ranger said one of you. Never mind the summers when there were two.

#outdoor recreation #hiking #tramping #national parks

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wellingtonnz · 2 years

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Trail running the Skyline track Makara Rd to Mt Kaukau and down to Khandallah, 1 May 2022

#wellington nz #trail running #hiking #tramping #trailrunning #skyline #mt kaukau #makara

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whats-in-a-sentence · 3 months

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The awkward sarcasm of The Moreton Bay Courier points to a bloody conclusion:

We cannot offer, any apology for Mr. Clements, for his behaviour was really very unkind. He assembled a small party of about ten persons, including himself, and set out with the avowed object of rescuing Mr. Jones's sheep – if he could find them. After some tramping, they succeeded, with the assistance of a black guide, in reaching the camp of the enemy; and, finding that the latter were enjoying themselves in the real old English style,—roasting the sheep whole upon their fires,—Mr. Clements entered against their proceedings a protest, which he found it necessary to enforce by a volley. The last named argument had the effect of dispersing the "Young New Hollanders," who chiefly shine in private assassination, but it is probably that Mr. Clement's party were rather bad shots, or else that they purposely fired wide. At all events it is certain that the killed and wounded conveyed themselves from the field of battle on their own legs.

"Killing for Country: A Family History" - David Marr

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beneathmywings · 8 months

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An alpine flat on the sabine-travers circuit in Nelson lakes national park, New Zealand

#zealand #hiking #new zealand #tramping #landscape

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jontycrane · 1 year

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Mt Isobel

An understandably popular day walk from Hanmer Springs, Mt Isobel is a 1,319m alpine summit behind the town offering spectacular views. I walked it two weeks before Christmas 2022 and other than one pair behind me, had the whole mountain to myself for the day. I suspect this wouldn’t be the case a few weeks later, though the 800m climb may lead many to think that a day at the Hanmer Spring…