Ryvoan
The air was cold; it rushed through my nostrils forming tiny ice-crystals amongst the net-like hairs before plummeting finally into the depths of my lungs. The landscape was unrecognisable. I sat down in the snow which formed around my body, creating a cold, but very comfortable chair. Silently I began to observe, I began to listen; my senses were heightened and I absorbed everything, every sound; every smell, nothing went unnoticed. The Green Loch lay frozen behind me, covered by a foot of snow that twinkled most spectacularly in the late-afternoon light and the Scots Pines stood still, just as they had done for centuries. I was temporarily alone and grateful for it.
The sun fell a bit further, edging ever closer to the southwest horizon where it would eventually disappear, banishing this beautiful land to darkness and even colder temperatures until the morning. Of course, I would not be there when it did, I was merely a temporary visitor, who, like all the others, would return home once their memory cards were full or they became cold. There was however, evidence all around that there were more permanent creatures that patrolled this place.
One of my companions had now caught me up. He stopped for a moment and asked if I was ready to continue. I wasn’t ready. I told him I would wait for the others and walk back with them. He was happy with this and carried on towards the van. I knew I didn’t have long left until I too would have to leave and so I concentrated hard on the scene before me, doing everything I could to perpetuate the moment in my own mind.
My time was up and the others arrived. They were dragging their rucksacks on their snowboards along the path that had been trodden in the snow. It was with a sense of melancholy that I stood up and turned my back on my icy throne which now acted as a legacy to the beauty of that profound moment.
I took one last glance up at the snowy mountains which were glowing gold beneath the setting sun. I was contented. I then followed the others and left Ryvoan behind.
