The shortest of the “big three” that dominate the central plateau on New Zealand’s North Island is Tongariro. The more “perfect” Ngauruhoe deserves an Academy Award – not just for its role as “Mt Doom” in The Lord of the Rings, but for so convincingly presenting itself as an independent entity, when it is in fact Tongariro’s “parasitic”, secondary cone. Ruapehu is the North Island’s highest peak and only currently glaciated mountain.
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Janis Joplin’s Me and Bobby McGee will forever be the best-known cover of a Kris Kristofferson song, but even more remarkable is June Tabor‘s singular version of Casey’s Last Ride.
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Formed by a landslide around 10,000 years ago, Rotopounamu is a forest-fringed little gem – a lovely contrast to the more starkly dramatic, actively-volcanic landscapes that attract most visitors to New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park.
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Over the last year no “female vocal” albums have moved me more deeply. In their different ways, each defies description, and is a very “unlikely” success. Respectively, they were recorded in the singer’s living room in Iowa, and in a studio in south-east France. Iris Dement interprets Russian poetry, in a manner no one else would ever have attempted… or imagined. Elina Duni addresses poetry and traditional song from her birthplace, Albania…with three brilliant Swiss jazzmen.
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The name is a “terminological inexactitude”- Ninety Mile Beach is “only” 88 kilometres long – but it is huge, and beautiful.
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Uttterly fearless too! Meet Petroica longipes – New Zealand’s North Island robin.
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Greetings from the Shaky Isles, where volcanic performance is of a higher order than nuncle Vodafone’s portable wi-fi.
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There are more life forms in a handful of forest soil than there are people on the planet. A mere teaspoonful contains many miles of fungal filaments. All these work the soil, transform it, and make it so valuable for the trees.
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As alleged in related post, Doubtful Sound was even more glorious, the next morn. Photos copyright Doug Spencer, all taken April 15, 2015.
2 CommentsJust after publishing the immediately-preceding post, I read Pankaj Mishra’s essay, Welcome to the age of anger. It is a brilliant combination of erudition and a quality not oft-alloyed with erudition – so-called “common” sense.
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