a long weekend at Perisher · Snowy Mountains · September 2026
Day Two
Snow angels on the way
Up to the lodge by mid-morning, out to Porcupine Rocks by two, and the first snow of the weekend — some of it lain in.
Perisher · Snowy Mountains · Friday 4 September 2026
Twenty-seven past two, Porcupine Rocks. All four of the walking party, and the rock.
Friday began at twenty-four minutes to seven with somebody up to see the light come over the lake, and it was on the hill by half past ten — much easier driving, straight up to the lodge, as the message put it, which after Thursday counted as a review. By two the party had walked out to Porcupine Rocks. By twenty past three there were shots in the kitchen. Somewhere between the two, as reported at two minutes past three, there were snow angels.
▶ Day Two in a minute — the clips, the snow angels and the microphone, in order, with what was said about it. Sound on.
First light
Somebody was up
Twenty-four minutes to seven, and the sky over the lake is doing the thing it does before the sun is up; nine minutes later the hills have gone pink. Both frames came from Claude’s phone, so the rest of the house owes him a coffee.
6.45am. The hills go pink.
6.36am. Before the sun.
9.18am. A very large bird, made of metal, on the way out. Nobody has explained it.
Mid-morning
Straight up to the lodge
The message came at six minutes to twelve and had three lines: Much easier driving. Straight up. To the lodge. The photographs say the party was on the hill by twenty-six past ten, four abreast in front of the snow, which was there, in patches, with a groomer parked hopefully beside it. Eight frames arrived together with one caption for the lot — top of the sundeck bar, thinking about a Corona — which is the most honest description of a ski-resort morning the log has received.
Sent at ten past ten. Nine seconds of gum trees going past — the road up, presumably, though the log will not swear to it.
10.26am. Four of them, arrived, in front of what snow there was.
10.46am. The hill, the groomer, and the optimism.
11.00am. The valley, with people on it.
10.25am, from Jane. The lodge, on its hill, and the last of the snow below it.
10.47am, from Jane. The creek, the groomed run, and one shed.
11.36am. Top of the sundeck bar, thinking about a Corona.
Sent at seven minutes to twelve. The lodge, and a machine that has seen more snow than this.
The afternoon
Out to Porcupine Rocks
A great nature walk to porcupine rock — saw a couple of snow angels on the way. That was the report at twenty past three, and the photographs between a quarter to one and ten to three bear it out: gum trees, a creek with a boulder in it, three people laughing on a track, four on a rock, four in the snow with a peace sign, two against the rock face, the sign that says 2.7 kilometres back to Perisher Valley, and a boardwalk home. The snow angels themselves were reported at two minutes past three, in two words, and appear on film below.
12.45pm. Into the trees.
Sent at half past one. The creek, ten seconds of it.
Sent at half past one. The boulder, close, with the water going under it.
1.57pm. The dead trees, the live walkers.
Sent at half past one. One of the party, up on the rocks, making a point.
Two o’clock. Three of them, and whatever was just said.
2.10pm. Four on a rock.
2.19pm. Four in the snow, one peace sign.
2.26pm. Two against the rock. It is a big rock.
2.34pm. Snowies Alpine Walk. Perisher Valley, 2.7 kilometres, one way — the way home.
1.29pm, from Jane. The boulder in the creek, and the rest of the creek getting past it.
1.27pm, from Jane. One of the party on a rock, surveying.
2.25pm, from Jane. Two of them, halfway up something.
From Jane, sent at two minutes to ten that night. The stone path, eight seconds.
From Jane, sent that night. Someone up ahead, on the rocks.
From Jane, sent that night. The creek, and somebody crossing it.
From Jane, sent that night. Seven seconds of looking up.
1.39pm, from Jane. The country the track goes through.
From Jane, sent that night. The water going over the rock, close.
1.29pm, from Jane. One tree, holding on.
2.24pm, from Jane. The rocks, before anyone climbed them.
2.50pm. The boardwalk back.
3.12pm. One local, on a bench, unimpressed by all of it.
From the hill — in their words
Filed from the sundeck
Everything sent on Friday, in order. The log has tidied nothing.
“Much easier driving. Straight up. To the lodge.”
11.54am
“Top of the sundeck bar thinking about a Corona”
11.56am, with eight frames
“Snow angels”
3.02pm
“A great nature walk to porcupine rock — saw a couple of snow angels on the way”
3.20pm
“Have gone across the street to corroborre”
6.20pm, with one photograph
Three minutes to three
The snow angels, as reported
The report came at two minutes past three, in two words. Chris’s camera has them at three minutes to: a patch of snow in a hollow off the track, two of the party flat on their backs in it, arms going, and a third standing over them with a phone, which is how the log knows. Five frames, one of them sitting up afterwards with the look of someone who has just remembered the snow is wet.
2.57pm, from Chris. Two snow angels, in progress.
2.57pm, from Chris. The third member of the party, documenting.
2.58pm, from Chris. Sitting up. The snow, it turns out, is wet.
Late afternoon
Snow angels, and a round
Back at the lodge by twenty past three, three of them lined up in the kitchen with something small in a glass and got it down in one; at five to four the glasses were bigger and there were more hands on them. At a quarter past four somebody went out onto the snow in the most colourful jacket in the Snowy Mountains, and at eighteen past four the sky, for the first time all day, was blue. The snow angels came in on film a little after five, along with three clips from a table by a window — and one more from Chris, twenty-eight seconds of the same table, sent the next morning. From a quarter past five Dianna’s camera has the window table filling up, five of them by a quarter to six. At one minute past six two of the men were at a bar with a glass each; at three minutes past six there was a microphone, and somebody was using it. At twenty past six: have gone across the street. There was a fire there too.
3.22pm. Down in one.
3.55pm. Bigger glasses.
4.18pm. Blue sky at last, three of them, and the hill behind them looking like a ski resort.
4.14pm. The jacket.
Snow angels. Sent at seven past five, reported at two past three, made at some point in between.
Sent at six past five. A table by a window, thirteen seconds.
Sent at ten past five. The same table, sixteen seconds, more animated.
Sent at six past five. Ten seconds more of the window table, for completeness.
5.16pm, from Dianna. Three at the window table, the light going.
5.44pm, from Dianna. Two of them, and a phone that has stopped mattering.
5.45pm, from Dianna. Five at the table, one glass in the foreground doing most of the work.
6.01pm. Two of them at the bar, one glass each, so far.
Sent at fourteen past five. Twenty-one seconds at the bar, before the microphone.
Sent at three minutes past six. The microphone, twelve seconds. The log takes no position on the song.
From Chris, sent Saturday morning: twenty-eight seconds of Friday’s table by the window.
Friday night, the bar. Sent as a saved copy on Saturday morning, so the clock on it is wrong and the log has left it off.
From Dianna, sent Saturday 9.06am: Friday night at the Spider, the saxophone, twelve seconds.
From Dianna, sent Saturday morning. The band, thirteen seconds.
From Dianna, sent Saturday morning. Fifteen seconds of the room.
From Dianna, sent Saturday morning. The women, the window, sixteen seconds.
