“Yeah, I’m cool.” Milo’s all kitted out in his new boots, new spider man sunglasses, and way-oversized walking pole. It was a beautiful Canterbury winter day. Sunny, 10 degrees C (50 F), and relatively still, so we did what we usually do under the circumstances–head out hiking.
I seriously didn’t expect Milo to walk very far, considering the whinge level we endure just to get to the neighborhood playground. But he was in the zone today. In the end he climbed up most of the way on his own two feet, energized by M&M’s and “purple mountain muscle” aka Jeremiah’s Clif shots. That’s lake Coleridge in the background.
Happy kid! He was in the lead at this juncture.
Aw, family mug shot. Naomi is actually there, she’s sleeping on my back. Sitting up at the top munching sandwiches and gazing at the snow-crusted peaks I realized that there’s no where in New England where you can get so remote so fast. Peak Hill is an easy hike an hour and a half out of Christchurch, and on the most gorgeous weekend hiking day we saw only three other groups.
Peak hill was once an island in a sea of glacier ice. Now the braided rivers (they strike me as tangled more than braided) fill those valleys.
Yup, this is what parents like to see. The puppy got enough exercise.