One of the things l love most about travel is how time slows. The mundane drifts away and you are left with the meat of reality.
This shot was taken minutes after I feared I had killed my climbing companions. I was lead climbing, and thankfully, they had heeded my yells to wait. But as rock after rock careened down the ravine beneath me there was no way to communicate until a minute later, the cacophony finally quieted, that they still held the same tenuous grip on life we all share.
I don't know what leads me to situations where death is so palpable. But I do know there is truth there. And the answers aren't selfish, for the idea didn't even occur that I could have been plummeting downward with the debris until my companions rejoined me on the ridge and echoed my fears. This will be another journey. An exploration of ideas of home and travel.
A search for quality.
RSS Syndication
2 comments:
What Brent doesn't mention is the light Mike and I saw in the rock slide as it plummeted below us. We assumed it was his headlamp...and for about half a minute, we thought he was dead.
Turned out it was a spark.
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