This is a memorial to Mike McGee . Its on the wall at Ngaawapurua hut in the Kaweka's . His Poem
is below
To those who hunt high places,
in early morning mist.
To those who wait for daybreak,
on rock, or scree or schist.
To those who curse as chill seeps in, of freezing mountain rain.
To those who, when morning comes,
will be out there once again.
To those who stir, when all is still
and brave the early morning chill.
Whose recompense, will be the thrill,
to sit atop a distant hill.
With rifle, pack or faithful dog,
above the sea of valley fog.
And see a sight, most folks have missed,
as distant mountain peaks are kissed
and caressed by sun's first gentle touch.
To all who've knelt, by moutain stream
and sipped the water, cool and clean.
Who've felt tranquillity soak in,
away from city's raucous din.
Who've fished from shingle bars and shelves
and learnt a little of themselves.
Or know how fast the hours go by,
with artificial nymph or fly.
To those with will to carry on,
when stamina and strength are gone.
To gain some preconceived ideal.
Those man and women made of steel.
Whose mind and body will not rest,
'til they've succeeded in their quest.
As stories of deeds accrue,
with pride, I pen these lines to you.
(Mike McGee)
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