Hoodoo Voodoo You Do

Do what? Remind me of the…
Last week I went to the Putangirua Pinnacles.
Remember the scene in Lord of the Rings (please allow me to release my inner nerd for second here), when Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas are walking through that spooky landscape with all the hoodoos and spires on the way to the Paths of the Dead? You know, with the army of green ghosts? Yeah, well that is this place.
And it is eerie. I hiked through there in the late afternoon, as the setting sun was unfurling long, shadowy curtains down the vertical rocks. The pinnacle formations are carved out, eroded, scraped, and sculpted as if by some giant, archaic utensil. To save time on the narrative here, I’ll just flex the metaphor chops and say it reminded me of:

– a monochrome moonscape
– a Gothic wedding cake
– some prehistoric, minimalist sculpture garden
– ashy ruins, skulking towers, rusty gates
– like, when you make sand castles by, um, dripping wet sand through your fingers

In the end I was less spooked than I might have been. Until that night, when an intense and relentless electric wind battered my tent. All. Night. Long. Slowing only long enough to wind back and gather speed for another blasting. My anxious heartbeats seemed to match the patterns of those assaults. Big Agnes Malone held her ground, but I was a hot mess by the morning. 

So, if, as the song goes, She is indeed Like the Wind Through My Tree, then whoever she is, she is one aggressive and spooky bitch. 
And yes, I did just reference Patrick Swayze. R.I.P

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