Camped on a platform carved out of the snow bank of a small lake under the looming dominion of Truchas Peak at 4000m among fir trees, frozen lakes, a jagged mountain skyline... In a shifting fog that spreads softly before the moonlight... Cocooned in the silvery white floating cap of a great magician...
It has been a tough hike over miles of rotten snow and the sharp sense of the trap i have set for myself by doing so. But for now a wry smile of achievement is on my face, the wonder of the night glazes my eyes.
A storm brewing in the far distance. So announced yet so sudden: the swirling wind, the screech of thunder, now blasts of white light. Shaking myself out of the dreamy sight i have secured my gear, an emergency blanket at hand. But not a raindrop comes down. Instead, stillness and silence — while the skyline is whipped by lashes of gold and the magician's cap re-envelops a shaken night.
A whisp of fresh air... Sun rays pierce through high above, alighting the peak's crown with a more enduring brand of gold.
I'll still have to get out of this rotten trap...