The Wind Blows Hard at Blowhard
Posted: Wed Jun 20, 2018 8:49 pm
These days, Mount Blowhard is a fairly insignificant hill between Mt. St. Bernard and Mount Hotham in the Victorian high country, but back in the days when the road was closed in winter and the skiers had to walk in, Mount Blowhard was a major obstacle to be negotiated.
The Wind Blows Hard at Blowhard
The wind blows hard at Blowhard – that’s no coincidence.
That’s why they named it Blowhard, it was only common sense.
They might have called it Howling Gusts, or even Screaming Gales.
The way the atmosphere moves there makes skiers bite their nails,
Except, of course, they cannot, for they’re wearing gloves or mitts,
So let’s just say it bites your nose, and shatters all your wits.
The wind blows hard at Blowhard, as I have said before.
When you arrive, you never know what weather lies in store.
You know it will be nasty. Of that, there is no doubt.
You cannot shout for help because the gale steals your shout.
You cannot use your mobile, for your thumbs will turn to ice.
The only thing for certain is, it’s never very nice.
I shouldn’t quite say never. That’s not entirely true.
Now and then, when sun is shining bright, and sky is blue,
The wind is light at Blowhard. There might be none at all –
But only for ten minutes. It’s the prelude to a squall,
Then the wind blows even harder than it blew some time before,
And it rattles through your body, and it chills you to your core.
The wind blows hard at Blowhard, I think I’ve made that clear,
And skirting round its slopes is ample cause for naked fear.
Before and after Blowhard, it is never quite as bad,
But the weather at Mount Blowhard is irascible and mad.
There’s no way I can soften it by saying it with tact.
The wind blows hard at Blowhard, so just accept that fact!
© Stephen Whiteside 14.06.2018
The Wind Blows Hard at Blowhard
The wind blows hard at Blowhard – that’s no coincidence.
That’s why they named it Blowhard, it was only common sense.
They might have called it Howling Gusts, or even Screaming Gales.
The way the atmosphere moves there makes skiers bite their nails,
Except, of course, they cannot, for they’re wearing gloves or mitts,
So let’s just say it bites your nose, and shatters all your wits.
The wind blows hard at Blowhard, as I have said before.
When you arrive, you never know what weather lies in store.
You know it will be nasty. Of that, there is no doubt.
You cannot shout for help because the gale steals your shout.
You cannot use your mobile, for your thumbs will turn to ice.
The only thing for certain is, it’s never very nice.
I shouldn’t quite say never. That’s not entirely true.
Now and then, when sun is shining bright, and sky is blue,
The wind is light at Blowhard. There might be none at all –
But only for ten minutes. It’s the prelude to a squall,
Then the wind blows even harder than it blew some time before,
And it rattles through your body, and it chills you to your core.
The wind blows hard at Blowhard, I think I’ve made that clear,
And skirting round its slopes is ample cause for naked fear.
Before and after Blowhard, it is never quite as bad,
But the weather at Mount Blowhard is irascible and mad.
There’s no way I can soften it by saying it with tact.
The wind blows hard at Blowhard, so just accept that fact!
© Stephen Whiteside 14.06.2018
I believe you, it is just like that. Good descriptive piece Stephen with the flavour of winter.