Mt Nebo

For me I guess it starts with rain. Well, rain and The Cranberries.

When I was little, I used to crawl out of bed in the mornings and sit in the lounge room on the sunny end of the sofa, and mum would come in and turn on Classic FM and click her fingers, and I would look down at my hands and try and click my fingers too (I never could). But on rainy days, mum would almost always put The Cranberries on, so all it takes now is a little patter on the roof and Dolores howling up the stairs and I'm gone, off with the fairies in a swoon of nostalgia. 

A couple of weeks ago, we woke up to the rain, I, my sister and two of our oldest and dearest friends, and after breakfast and coffee, we were ready for an adventure. We packed a lunch and drove into the mountains, Bon Iver completing the general "let's all run away and live in the mountains and be goat farmers" vibe. We followed our noses and eventually ended up at Jolly's Lookout, the view from Mt Nebo. 

On the day you're running on empty and have an insatiable desire to stand from the top of some place very high (not to jump off, just to look, just to look), give it a visit. Expansive views always seem to bring me back to sanity into that warm, safe place somewhere between reminiscence and hope, and this was no different. Grab a book, top up on fuel and go.