Sunrise with Louis at the Jaw Reservoir

There are some mornings that stay with you long after the walk is over. This was one of them.

On a cold September morning, Louis and I left home long before sunrise and made our way into the Kilpatrick Hills. The world was still asleep beneath us as we climbed through the darkness, guided only by the faint glow of blue hour and the promise of the day ahead.

Louis loves these hills as much as I do. He is a keen photographer, an amateur naturalist, and always curious about the wildlife, landscapes, and changing skies we encounter along the way. Watching him develop that same connection to nature has been one of the great joys of sharing these walks together.

Our destination was a viewpoint overlooking the Jaw Reservoir, where the sun rises over the shoulder of the surrounding hills at this time of year. The conditions could hardly have been better. Thin wisps of cirrus cloud stretched across the sky, hinting at colder air high above, while the still morning below remained comfortable enough with the right layers on. As the darkness faded, the sky gradually shifted through deep blues, purples, and oranges before the first sunlight touched the water.

We sat quietly for a while, taking it all in. There was no rush to move on and no schedule to follow. The reservoir reflected the colours of the dawn while the city lights far below slowly surrendered to daylight. In those moments, it felt as though the entire landscape was waking up around us.

As the morning unfolded, we continued towards the Whangie, stopping often to photograph the views, examine interesting plants, and simply appreciate whatever we happened to find along the way. Like many of the best days in the hills, there was no need to force an agenda. We let the walk become whatever it wanted to be.

What made this trip special was not the sunrise itself, impressive though it was. It was the time spent with my son. Away from screens, notifications, and distractions, conversation seemed to come naturally. Thoughts arose and disappeared as freely as the clouds overhead. We talked, we walked, and sometimes we simply enjoyed the silence.

For young people growing up in a world filled with constant noise and digital entertainment, there is something powerful about watching a sunrise from a hillside. Nature asks for nothing other than your attention, and in return it offers a sense of perspective that is becoming increasingly rare.

As I watched Louis taking photographs and absorbing the landscape around him, I found myself thinking about the walks I shared with my own dad. Those memories have stayed with me throughout my life, and it is a privilege to now create similar memories with my son.

The sunrise was beautiful, the conditions were near perfect, and the hills were every bit as inspiring as ever. But years from now, what I will remember most is simply being there together.