I hiked a mountain. In a country far enough north and cold enough that there was still snow scattered in patches along the path near the top. It wasn’t a true hike, not in the wilderness, there was a footpath, originally formed by the passage of goats up the mountain and later brought to a more proper existence by the residents of the town. It’s still, however, very steep, particularly since I don’t have the greatest of shoes. But, I was still proud of myself for doing it, because standing at the bottom I didn’t actually think I would be able to.
I am in good shape, but not as good as I perhaps once was or one day will be, I was breathing heavily by the time I crested the top, in fact, my lungs were starting to protest somewhat…
But it was worth it when I got to the top, the coffee shop with its weathered benches was closed as it’s not quite yet tourist season, but the view was incredible, especially since the sky was dotted here and there with what looked like silver-feathered ravens. I am no bird expert, but that’s what they looked like from the size, and they definitely had silver-grey feathers rather than the black that I’m used to seeing.
It’s beautiful and surreal, standing at what feels like the top of the world like that. We are so far north that the last sunset was last night; for the next 96 hours we’ll be sailing in daylight, no darkness at all. Sailing through a world that is pure light…a world where the ravens have silver feathers and mountains have snow in May…
I think I can live with that…