It was as if we had walked onto an alien landscape, desolate, barren of life. The brightness of the landscape bounced off our sunglasses and our feet are bound like an imperial, Chinese child in snow cleats. With legs akimbo in crumping style we dance our way through a terrian that glows and where crevices spring forth like venus fly traps.
A blue cave summons and sink holes fill with cascading water. Ice steps are dug deep into the glacier and the sound of crunching ice mingles with our laboured breathing. Ice streams bubble beneath our feet and provide an illusion of trapped mountaineers looking upwards, seeking release. Each step takes us back through history; we walk on ice that has taken over a 1000 years to be present at this point in time. We think once again how insignificant we are and as we journey over the face of the glacier. We were summoned back to reality by the sound of glacier ice cracking this time over scotch poured by our mountaineering guide. Sipping scotch upon a living glacier, we scan our surroundings and a Cheshire smile breaks out.
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