Never start a story at the beginning.
This is possibly the climax of our tale. It’s certainly the peak as we reach the summit of the Red Crater after hours of tramping along the Tongariro Alpine Crossing.
We must have hiked at least eight kilometres at this point, slowly ascending. Almost 12 more kilometres to go. That’s another four hours at least, five if we keep stopping to rest. My quads are killing me; my bet is on the latter.
But for now we have time to take a breather. We must. For just as we reach this highest point — 1,886 metres above sea level if one is keeping track, and we are — a transcendent vision greets us.
The Emerald and Blue Lakes.
Those strange, unearthly colours. The plumes of thermal steam, that persistent sulphurous smell we are growing accustomed to. Surrounding by stones, all scree and rubble, the lakes are mirrors to another world.
It’s all magic, really.
What else would you call the chance chemistry of sunbeams reflecting off a layer of marl on the lake bed, itself created from limestone dissolving in the water? Calcium carbonate and sunlight.
It’s solar and volcanic, a communion of Helios and Hephaestus, a clash between Tama-nui-te-rā and Rūaumoko.
It’s art painted by nature, a geological masterpiece. We are in one of Earth’s most sacred museums. We say our blessings by stopping and taking it all in.
Oh beauty!