The mountains are calling and I must go. John Muir

Monday in the Snowy Mountains, New South Wales.
A light zephyr, one cloud, an abundance of sunshine and snow at Smiggin Holes.

The miracle of snowgums' recovery from bushfires is slow but steady.

Tuesday at Perisher.
A cooler breeze, one dozen clouds, and still an abundance of sunshine and snow.

The young and the gone.

Wednesday, on the Cascades Trail.
A stiff, wet wind, a sky covered in clouds of all kinds and colours, a tiny patch of sunshine, and light snow falling, melting before it touches the earth.

Snowy mountains.

The joy of the Snowy Mountains, the companionship of long-time friends cannot be surpassed. It replenishes my soul and body.