Beyond Dead Horse Pinch and Red Cutting I came through the Pigroot in the early evening, clouds pouring off the Kakanuis as I crested the The Brothers and then, beyond Red Cutting, emerged into bright blaring sunshine. At such times it feels like every uplift’s a blessing, inspiriting, as when you almost believe going somewhere gets us somewhere. By the roadsides the bushiest snow tussock bent and swayed in the wind and over 30 miles away the highest hills shimmered, were the faintest of blues, their colour suffused by interior light. And it would have seemed absurd to sing of…