Wednesday, May 9, 2012

April 30 the mountain wave

Ram serves breakfast, there is the scalding hot shower in the shower tent standing on cold stones, then a solitary walk to the meadows, then to advanced base camp, then back to the meadows to meet Mark. Black stones and yellow sands surrounded by huge, ever changing peaks, immersed in clouds, this is where I meet that old cloud walker Jay, who taught me to love the walk. On the crest of the mountain wave, on the endless shore, I walk with the ghosts, drawing diagrams in the sand, the names of those who have gone before, the names of those who are yet to be, the walk is for us to be together again, to remember the dream.
It has turned colder, I wear three layers to bed, consisting of my sleeping bag and two liners. In spite of Nima’s plan, I don’t want to return to base camp for the rest time, I want to stay on the mountain. So once again, good bye everyone, I go walking through the Himalayan sands, looking for Buddha’s pure land, under the mountain waves and over the mountain boulders looking for a city, everything on my back and although the winds blow I am walking through the clouds and am tight like a dish, like a snail slow, but carry my home with me.
Naks coming down
that is the shower


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