Among the fir trees, frozen lake, the jaggedness of mountain skyline, s
hifting fog spreads softly before the moonlight. At 4000m i am camped on a platform carved out of the snow bank of a small lake under the looming dominion of Truchas Peak. Cocooned in the silvery white floating cap of a great magician...

It has been a tough hike: miles of rotten snow and the sharp sense of the trap i have set for myself. Now a wry smile of achievement on my face and the wonder of the night in my eyes.

The brew of a storm in the far distance. So announced yet so sudden: the swirling wind, the screech of thunder, and now the blasts of white light. Shaking myself out of this dream i have secured my gear and an emergency blanket is at hand. But not a raindrop comes down. Instead stillness and silence — while the skyline is whipped in lashes of gold and the magician's cap re-envelops a shaken night.

A whisp of fresh air...high above, sunrays pierce through, setting the peak's crown alight with a more enduring brand of gold.

Still have to get out of this rotten trap.