Foghorn





For June and the highlands escapades.
Immortality beckons beyond the fog.



The ascent begins at the base, near the picnic grove overlooking the famed lake. It will be a two-mile trip to the summit where thick clouds marching from the south have assembled to surround the prominent peak. The heaving dark clouds, like a dragon coiling around the hill is posed to swallow the crown on top of the mount, and we, as curious spectators is about to venture into the most outrageous drive of our lives.

Darkness shrouds the landscape as the Jimny revs for a steep climb. The narrow road twists revealing sharp bends whose deep ravine have already surrendered to the abyss. On cloudless days, the ledge reveals rolling hills and plains as far as the eyes could see. In the distance, beyond the lake, is the shimmering splendor of the sea, whose briny air beckons the marauding clouds to return to the depths.

But the path now, whose faint yellow lines is slowly fading into the fog. The silhouette of trees warn of an impending fall; the absence of specter of lights glowing from blurred lamp posts tell of yielding. Yet we must go on and never stop, lest a vehicle sharply turning on a bend might suddenly hit us from behind.



The Forks



Sliding the passenger window, wisps of clouds enter: the fog swirling gleefully to announce its supremacy . A whiff of arctic wind  chills our nostrils, while pearly beads of rain water splat on our skin. The road ahead is now veiled behind the haze but despite these trepidations, we crawl forward to continue our journey.

Halfway between the base and the summit, we parked, took a leak next to the ridge, and surveyed the hidden layers of our surroundings. Howling winds blow against our face as we stood our ground hoping for a heavenly parting. An icy chill permeates our skin knocking our bones to submission, yet we never faltered: A crown seeks to be discovered hidden above the hills.

We walked towards the final gate only to find it bolted. The wind howls and as the clouds encircle to make its final push to swallow our sanctified ledge, there is no choice but to rescind. With no place to stay and only the frosty elements to keep us company. We return to the Jimny and surrender our fate to the embracing mist.


A Repost:
Fullmetal Dreams
January 20, 2009