Magical Mist

The mist conceals the magnificent peaks above as if they're shyly hiding their beauty and grandeur. It gives us an entirely new level of appreciation because we are only permitted to view bits and pieces at a time, forced to combine the puzzle in our minds. We sit, concentrating on the bright white mass in front of our eyes, with a fear that if we look away we very well might miss a magical glimpse through the layer of fog. Every once in a while we are granted with a view and stunned with its glory. This five-second image sticks in our minds and makes us hungry for more. We have a voracious appetite now that we know the possibilities of what's out there. 

Occasionally we hear a thunderous roar in the distance. We listen as a huge mass of glacier falls, tumbling and crushing down thousands of feet. The sounds are amplified because all else remains quiet. It makes us even hungrier to see more. To see what else is out there. 

Sometimes a warm cloud bubbles up from the valley below and we are sprinkled with minuscule droplets. We breathe the fresh air and despite how high we are, our lungs thank us. 

The mist is beautiful. There's a certain energy that accompanies it. A mysterious and eerie feeling in the air. It has a particular way of moving too. From above, it's as if the mist contains a thousand tiny ballerinas, twirling and swirling their way up the mountainside. Each with its own, unique choreography.