Reminds me of my weekend: 7,600 feet high, at the apex of a frozen mountain. 2 AM, wide awake. Friction against my feet for warmth. Can hear a gust of wind rushing towards me from many, many miles away. It's growing louder. Ten, fifteen seconds pass before I brace for impact. Tent's wind-fly begins to dance. She flutters for a few seconds before gently laying back down. That's it? Why am I disappointed, I wonder.
a very gripping narrative but the seasoned hiker wants to know- where the heck was THAT? Somewhere in Oregano? for some reason I thought it might be Shastina or somesuch. I love the John Muir in you.
Reminds me of my weekend: 7,600 feet high, at the apex of a frozen mountain. 2 AM, wide awake. Friction against my feet for warmth. Can hear a gust of wind rushing towards me from many, many miles away. It's growing louder. Ten, fifteen seconds pass before I brace for impact. Tent's wind-fly begins to dance. She flutters for a few seconds before gently laying back down. That's it? Why am I disappointed, I wonder.
ReplyDeletea very gripping narrative but the seasoned hiker wants to know- where the heck was THAT? Somewhere in Oregano? for some reason I thought it might be Shastina or somesuch. I love the John Muir in you.
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