5/11

At 8300 feet elevation the only bed I have is granite and sticks. The sun is sinking over the ridge and the vapor is rising in quick clouds from the two warm bodies on this ridge. Michael the German is here too, and we anticipate an easy trounce through ten miles of snow to town tomorrow. Those below may be proud of their homes, but on this perch I watch them move like ants below, and eat my cheese like a king.