Barren and untamed — the rugged hillside of the Rise and Shine Valley towers before me in all its natural splendour.
Situated at the base of the hillside ridge is a small exploration base, which resembles more of a makeshift air base.
A few stray houses and plantations on neighbouring farmland are the only other things indicating any signs of civilisation.
Rocks sit next to a handful of monitors as a mix of Guns N’ Roses and radio static fills the air.
Dotted along a map of the area are four circles shaded in red — the names Rise and Shine, Come in Time, Shreks and Shreks-East marking each.
The Rise and Shine (RAS) is the reason why we, along with 15 geologists and field technicians as well as about 20 explorative drillers, have travelled out this far.
Santana Minerals, an Australian mining company, believes it has struck gold.
It estimates $4.4 billion of revenue could be generated over the proposed mine’s 10-year lifespan.
Sitting to my right in the 4WD is Damian Spring, the chief executive of Santana Minerals, who lives in nearby Arrowtown.
We pass the remnants of a few cobbled brick mining huts as we begin to weave our way up the hills.
A small stream trickles down an embankment as a rabbit flees from sight.
Power lines hang above us which connect straight into the Transpower national power grid.
Mr Spring points out the old Bendigo Reefs, a heritage reserve where about 180,000 ounces of gold were mined from the 1860s onwards.
He tells me a few companies associated with Macraes have also taken a stab at exploring the vast expanse over the past 40 years.
The permit for the area had rotated between TSX-listed OceanaGold, another ASX-listed company, and lastly Matakanui Gold — which was sold to Santana and raised money to implement a successful drilling programme, he says.
A handful of black cattle are waiting for us as we head through the first gate up the mountain, as curious as they are startled.
Our vehicle begins to shake as we shift from gravel on to hard rock terrain.
A row of posts frame the side of the cliff face to what Mr Spring points out is a "modest" drop-off to my left.
The cattle below in the Shepherd’s Creek Valley have turned to ink blots.
"It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the passenger seat," he says.
With each peak we climb, the landscape slowly reveals itself to us.
The mountains unfurl themselves into cascading layers of ridges — invisible from the view back at the base — with man-made paths and pieces of machinery tattooed across the landscape.
Plastic white pipes jutting from beneath the soil mark areas already drilled.
Once we reach the top of the Rise and Shine ridge and clamber out of our vehicle, Mr Spring outstretches both his arms towards the horizon.
The view layed out before me is breathtaking.
Just below us, a 7m drill mast pierces the skyline from a small drilling rig — the beginning of what could grow into a larger operation.
The RAS open pit is expected to stretch 200m right below our feet, and underground mining expected to delve ever deeper.
Gazing across the landscape alongside me, Mr Spring says that he lives "just over" the hill.
He says the first time he stood atop the RAS, about two years ago, he knew what he was standing upon was going to be big.
"I knew this was a sizable discovery at that point ... I knew at that point it was going to grow.
"I thought great — 45 minutes from my front door," he says.
He hopes that in 10 years’ time, he will be able to stand here again and look back with pride at what the company has accomplished.
"I’m not going anywhere."
