I swung my duffel bag to my other hand. My right calf was sore as the bag caromed into it with each stride I took. The rubber corner bitting into my tissues.
I looked down at the map that I had printed out before I left which felt like a very long time ago. I used the dim lighting of a closed down shop to confirm I was headed the right way.
I followed the river, my eyes adjusting to the dark, I began to take account of my surroundings.
There were rustic wooden houses you’d expect to see in the Sound of Music or in a ski town, which come to think of it, this was. In fact skiing was probably the only reason people come here…but that wasn’t why I had come.
The path was a well trodden one, the snow matted down from peoples boots. The night was quiet, a tranquil air filled the valley. The only sound was the muffled thud of the bag, now head-butting my left calf.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a dull white looking out from the dark horizon. I stared at it, my brain scrambling to make sense and comprehend what my eyes were showing it. I squinted and stared. My eyes opened wide. I took a step backwards, craning my neck.
The mountains!
How could I not have noticed the behemoths lumbering over this sleepy town. The outlines of their peaks appeared as a jagged line of teeth against the sky where small starlights slipped between clouds and winked.
The average mountain alone is something to behold, but these mountains, they were different. They were unlike anything.
Billy's Notes:
I most likely wrote this tidbit after my fruitless trip to Switzerland where I attempted (and failed) to see the Matterhorn. That mountain remains one of my life's 'great white whales' or 'white buffalo' or 'white echidna' or whatever animal you want to go with. It still haunts me that i traveled all that way through one of the most expensive countries I've been to only to have clouds and weather block my view of the great peak. This short tale is an accurate description of how I felt walking amongst the Alps, which are absolutely incredible.