Under a big sky
Tony Milne of Rough Milne Mitchell Landscape Architects tests his limits in the rugged beauty of Mackenzie District.
Three pm Friday 22 August: a 6.5km run within Hagley Park followed by a cleansing ale at Volstead. Pleasant enough, a whiff of spring in the air. One down, 11 to go, and curious excitement in regard to the challenge ahead of us. Tony B, Sam and I had decided to tackle the (ex-military hard man) David Goggins 4x4x48 challenge. Simple enough really: 48 miles in 48 hours, running four miles every four hours.
While we started on a temperate afternoon in the leafy and familiar surrounds of Hagley, Twizel was our chosen base for the weekend. Not quite in the footsteps of pioneering Aoraki Mt Cook mountaineers Ollivier, Mannering and Adamson, but we felt adventurous. Aside from our first two outings (the second one being in the silage-infused darkness of Kimbell on Friday evening), we ran around Twizel and its dun-coloured tussock surrounds.
This is big-sky country, vast and open – a semi desert-like landscape much painted and photographed. Written about too by poet Brian Turner, who likened the once mighty Ōhau River to a heavyweight boxer, “boisterous and belligerent” as it “flexed, bumped and bulged”. A landscape also rustled by the notorious James Mackenzie and his dog. While in places appearing uninhabited, wind-blown and pockmarked by rabbits, it is a modified working landscape – the iconic intermontane basin setting curated by farming practices.
It's a strong place, too. Since the 1950s – a decade that also saw the emergence of patches sewn on the leathers of motorcycle gangs throughout our country – immense hydroelectric infrastructure has been woven into the fabric of this landscape. A land etched by the weather, the farmer and the scraper. Passed through, too, by the motorcyclist. The perfect setting to test our physical and mental fortitude, a place to leave only our footsteps, some sweat too – sans patches.
We wanted to experience the rising sun over the Two Thumb Range and Grampians to the east, so set a running schedule of 3pm, 7pm, 11pm, 3am, 7am, 11am, and repeated.
We were not disappointed. As darkness yielded to the first rays of light revealing paddocks crisp with frost, we enjoyed the sun washing our faces. Steam rose from the languid waters of the canal we ran alongside, the snow-covered Ben Ohau mountains to the west, tinged pink and Aoraki standing tall, commanding respect.
With our spirits lifting with the arc of the sun, conversation replaced the self- reflection and quiet that enveloped the previous night’s runs. At night the Milky Way was our guide and companion. The silence, broken only by our footfall, was comfortable, as we were with it. As we ran our conversation was wide, varied, nonsensical, searching, irreverent, occasionally meaningful and often inquisitive.
By the time we had completed our final run, we were unanimous that the Mackenzie had left an indelible impact on us. This was a landscape that made us feel alive, the raw beauty inspiring our every stride.
