It's funny how sometimes you come across a place, at a time, on a day, and it just happens to be the sort of perfection that looks as if it can only appear in a photo, and it would be hard to mess up any photo you tried to take of it. That's what it felt like when Eva and I drove past this, the little hut at the entrance of Irishman Creek Station. We had just been to Mount Cook, and the drive back was beautiful--it was late afternoon, with all that beautiful golden light and those long shadows. I love the vividness of this photo. It's one of my favourite photos ever, I think, because the vividness of the photo matches the vividness of the memories. We had Coldplay playing, and whenever I listen to that particular album now (A Rush of Blood to the Head), the image of driving back from Mount Cook, after a long and beautiful day, comes involuntarily to my head.