It happens, at first sight, or never. If there is ever love possible at first sight, it has to be with the mountains. The places that the mind escapes to, each time, from the everyday is always a mountain for me. There is a music to them, even in the harshness that almost always accompanies them. It is the one place that I feel at home, if I ever do;
A break from the routine after such a long time. Open spaces and mountains busy draping themselves in a cover of green, preparing for the hard white winter to come. We saw solid frost in a town of dust on day one. Life is hard there. There was one shop open, two men huddled by a fire, another washing clothes in ice-cold water. It was many small cups of tea before we were able to feel some warmth.