Cowed by the display of Canterbury the previous weekend, resident Otago-ite (and too long in the pub-scarfie) Dan Allan had to make an emergency cell phone call Friday night (from a suspiciously noisy location) to beg for mercy in the face of the "Mt Isobel challenge". (For those of you who have never heard of Isobel, there's a reputable multisport race held there each year with which we were not associated in any way!)

Undeterred, the two of us continued our walk up Mt Isobel and were treated to a true "four seasons in one day" experience. Vestiges of snow, evidence of the final flick in Spring's tail, patched the alpine tussock, nestling in sunless holes. We braved rain and a howling nor'wester until such time as the rain stopped, the wind whispered and the sun burned through to bake us.

We each carried a rock to the top, to place on the pile that waxes and wanes as trampers add and the elements subtract. The summit of Mt Isobel offered views of Hanmer and thousands of acres of forestry to the south, and Jack's Pass and the Clarence river valley to the north.

Never far from our thoughts were the reasons for us being here. Our tribute to Guy - to go where he would've gone, to look at distant peaks and rolling valleys, to plan the next day, the next trip, the next adventure.

Our earlier efforts in walking continuously upwards were rewarded with a lightning descent and soon we were back in the car, freeing city-feet from tramping boots. There was only one thing left to be done...

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