Yeh not bad Damo, a good but brief instalment.
In 1999 I spent about three and a half weeks by myself collecting rocks from Mt Luxmore (Fiordland, NewZealand) for a geology project. Apart from having the luxury of an 80+ berth cabin to come home to every night and intermittent helicopter support I would not talk to anyone all day.
When you're alone outdoors for a while you become quite attuned to all the birds, insects, weather etc, and simple things like the way the light varies through the day, and how your body changes - ie it seems to hit 'mint' condition for alertness, awareness and physical performance at about 4 pm.
One morning I put down my pack to go off and have a look at an old abandoned ski rope tow. When I came back I couldn't find my pack so I spent what seemed like hours scouring the mountain side for the pack, during which a few storms passed over, it was both dumb (on my part) and bizarre
Your piece reminds me a bit of one by Reinhold Messner, when he described his traumitized wanderings on Nanga Parbat looking for his brother who had passed away on the mountain. Also very Mallory-esque - there must be many ghosts traversing Everest's slopes |