I don’t mean to suggest the plane wasn’t entirely safe and adequate. It was just very little for where we were going – flying above Noo Zillund’s west coast over Mount Cook and Franz Josef Glacier on a spectacularly fine mid-December morning.
Not being somebody who skis, and who hails from the great baked southland of Australia (and yes, I know it snows in Australia, but only for about five minutes in a year and I’ve never been in the right place for the right five minutes), I can’t tell you anything at all about the snow and ice, except it was really incredibly pretty. Full of texture and depth, the whitest of white with pops of aquamarine.
And those mountain peaks? So sharp and craggy and majestic.
I defy you not to start singing that opening number from The Sound of Music.