Milk, ice, and winter

December 16, 2017

It was a lonely journey that started with a long nighttime trek to the shelter. Only for a mere moment did it look like in the picture above. I took it the last day when I was already headed out of the mountains. But the best stuff came earlier.

The mountains are completely different in the winter, in some circumstances, even more so. Almost like in the Upside Down, except for the monsters. The main part of my journey was the trail to Grześ (1653 m) and from there to Rakoń (1878 m). The weather wasn't favourable even in the morning, and with the passing hours, it got worse and worse. There was nothing but milk all around me. Wind blowing and snow falling. The gusts of the wind were really strong, so the foot trails disappeared in no time. Every once in a while I would meet a common traveller and their presence made me feel better. The most memorable moment was when the visibility went down to a few meters and out of nowhere, it got all silent. All I could hear was the hard snow crunching under my boots.

On the summit, I got to know the Boy from Gliwice and his friend, a girl with a snowboard. He and I went down the mountain together and all the way down he kept worrying whether she had slid down alive. Only at the very bottom did they manage to get through to each other on the phone. She was safe and sound, already waiting at the shelter. His constant concern was as sweet as it was unnecessary. I don't know what went down with them afterwards; it was one of these friendships that come up momentarily and only leave a memory behind.

And yeah, I'm soon to stop writing about the mountains all the time. I'll be heading to Asia!

Last photo by the Boy from Gliwice. Maybe one day we'll meet again on the trail.

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About me

I am at a crossroads with several passions that, in general, may be described as words, sights, and feelings. Formally, I'm a Polish Philology and Sociology graduate and right now I work as a TV editor. Not so formally, I’m just a word lover and an amateur photographer.

Here is another thought storage of mine, old, dusty, and abandoned, where I used to write while I was studying literary criticism.

© Sylwia Kluczewska