I step out of the shiny, silver car. Frost covered the grass, a blanket of small, silver crystals. There isn't a single sound in the air, like a night of silence. Snow, as white as paper, hangs from the trees. Rachel is running around, frantic, acting as if the world would end if we don't start climbing this mountain in five minutes.
So we listen to Rachel. We shove our way past the trees, up the snowy Mt Thomas. I look around. There is nothing but feathery fantails flitting around like butterflies, chirping like nobody is listening. The clouds seem like they are a big, thin strip of toilet paper, covering the sky. On its own, one lonely bit of grass lay there. I'm suspecting that on a day like this, all its friends have died away by the frost.
We're at the summit of Mt Thomas. The top! Down, far, far below us is the huge Christchurch city, waving up to us (at least that's what I imagined)! Actually, it was quite empty. The fading sun, waves good-bye to us, like a very faint decrescendo on the piano. Around us are higher, snowier mountains we are about to conquer in 2 months time. Oh how great it will feel when we get up those higher mountains, that everyone talks about!