MOUNTAIN SOLITAIRE
Still rubbing my eyes, I was struck in awe of the magical mountain scene before me. To my feet lay an ocean of clouds with the full moon shining above, and mountain peaks emerging through the gleaming white like hundreds of little islands. To the west lay the peaks of desolate Fiordland and to the far north, I could see a few white glaciated peaks of the Southern Alps, glowing in the moonlight. It was the first time in 36 hours that I could see the world surrounding me, further than 20 metres away, as I had been caught in bad weather.
Two days earlier I had parked up my home on wheels at the end of a backroad, (at the time a Toyota Corolla with a mattress in the back), thrown a pack on with some gear and a little grub, and headed out for an adventure. The initial plan was to explore an area of the Eyre Mountains that I had surveyed only briefly on maps. The spirit of exploration made the outlook of the hunt even more exciting. I was hoping to find a pre-rut stag or a chamois buck. After
