A Snapshot of Fading Light
My eyes glided over the green-tinged mountains, lightly dusting them like snow. Bright blue sky wistfully gave way to long white clouds, magically morphing from one breeze-blown shape to another, their cotton-wool cliches hardly out of place in such an environment. Beauty clashed with beauty in a hard fought battle of nature, the elements mixing together with a scenic bang seldom experienced on the harsh face of the Earth.
I stood on the beach in the low dying southern sun of autumn, shadows clutching across the pebbles to stop their nightly descent into darkness. The sun would be sinking behind the hills soon, and a deathly crisp cold would be wrapping its icy fingers around all that it could grab.
I was at Lake Te Anau, nestled like pearl at the bottom of New Zealand, sandwiched between the Pacific and Antarctica. It is a place of sunsets and sunrises, of colours and sounds and nature, a cacophony to the senses.
As the light faded, I noticed fish jumping in the water, circles growing outwards until they lapped at the shore. Laughter from the nearby pub cut across the water, muffled yet clear, harsh yet strangely reassuring. It mixed effortlessly with the sounds of the night creatures that were stirring in the trees, the lonely call of the Morepork, the shattering screech of the Kiwi.
And to stand there, surrounded by nature shrouded by the coming night, I thought I could quite possibly be the luckiest man alive.
Whenever daily life is unpleasent and the world drags me down, it is that moment, on the shores of Lake Te Anau, that I escape to.
And that is what travelling is all about. [more]
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