I love the long hours of summer. Being so far south here on the South Island of New Zealand is a bonus. The sun sets..... and sets ...... and then the sky turns darker and darker blue, deep shades of outer space and then the stars light up. Brilliant pins of light through cold clear skies. No contrails. No industrial smog. Just the space of the Universe out there.
It feeds my soul. I know that David of the Old Testament went walking before sunrise, but he was a troubled soul. I just move straight into the dusk and the wine at the end of the day. A solid ripe cherry blitz of a Pinot Noir from Central Otago, or a mineral slap to the primitive brain from a dry Southern Riesling and the day melts into the smoothness of night.
Tonight I am in Queenstown, on lake Wakatipu. It is a magic place, with the lake floor almost 100m below sea level. The mountains to the south-east are called The Remarkables, rising to 2300m above sea level. They are now covered in the last snow of the season, glistening silvery as the sun dips in the west.
I am leaning back agains the high back of a deep chair with a glass of Mount Difficulty Pinot swirling in the glass. The notes of cherry, almost Kool-Aid like, kicks up and blends with rich straw and wood to form a complex nose that does not disappoint on the tongue. A rich umami note lingers with the fruit as I listen to the couple that joined the area of deep comfy chairs. “I loved that that bone dry slate finish on the Peregrine Chardonnay darling!”, she says while he inspects the list. The waiter arrives, and asks in typical southern fashion: “So how was your day?”. They smile, it was beyond good, yes. He orders the Akarua Pinot Noir and she asks for a glass of Peregrine Chardonnay. Silence.
The wine arrives, nothing is said, the waiter captures the number on the keys and moves away. The couple lift their glasses: “Cheers darling!” Then they turn and face the Remarkables. The light fades and the snow turns to silver. The lake is a dark pool of magic, a last boat floats in, almost apologetically and we sniff the wine.
Time passes on watches, but the moment lingers. I carefully take the last sip and quietly leave the area. The waiter at the bar waves at me, I did not have to sign and I did not have to check. We are all part of the moment where the odds and ends of humanity are of no consequence.
The stars make themselves visible over Lake Wakatipu. The mountains etch their profiles against the crisp cut of the wind from the west. Make no mistake, this is not a place for the weak. My Nordic blood stirs and I take a deep breath of the cold air. I’ll write this up, I say to myself. Let those with adventure in their souls be stirred to come here.
I’ll sleep well tonight while the restless island stirs on the fault lines of the planet.
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