Mood For the Day
Today's Mood on Thu, 25 Dec 1997
Mark provisioned himself for the journey. He had no idea how long he'd be, nor any idea when he might be hungry; he just took as much as he could carry (mostly in water) and left.
He went to the entrance to the mountain. This time he'd make it to the top; he had nothing else to do today. As he walked to the first waterfall, he remarked (to nobody) that there weren't very many people around today. No surprise. No disappointment either.
Just before the waterfall he encountered an older family with a frisky if skittish dog. Mark couldn't identify the dog, but then his mother was always the one who knew dogs by breed anyhow. For all his years spent grooming and attending dog shows, he really couldn't identify more than a small handful of breeds. All he really knew for sure anyway were his favorites.
They exchanged pleasantries. One of them asked if he was going all the way to the top. Happily, he announced that he was, or at least as far as he could get. He was met by some small astonishment: they meant was he going up to the top of this waterfall, perhaps ten feet; not to the top of the mountain, which was closer to a thousand. Oops.
He pressed on. Presently he came as far as he had ever come before, although that wasn't perhaps saying too much: he hadn't been this way at all more than five or ten times. Although it was nearing midday, the sun was still hiding behind the Southern peak of the mountain. This time of year it never really got much higher than that. Mark wasn't cold, though: he certainly needed the exercise.
Moving a bit farther, he came upon the first miracle of the journey. A small table had been placed by the side of the third waterfall, which was now (after no rain for so long) little more than a trickle. He sat down at the stone table and undressed. Here the water made a small pool before travelling on; Mark washed off some of the dirt and stretched. Just over one of the peaks of the mountain the Sun climbed with as much effort as it had taken Mark to get this far. Apparently the Sun thought that if fat-assed Mark could make it this high, then it didn't have much excuse not to.
The effect was striking, and Mark was overjoyed to be able to witness it. The rays of the sun filtered through the bay, oak, and beech trees, diffusing among their leaves like playful sprites on a winter holiday. Through the rays he could see plenty of forest and river insects, tiny gnats hovering about anything which would sit still long enough to let them hover.
He dressed again and went on, into the forest which had grown by the valley through which the river flowed (well, when there was water in it). He walked in, not too far it seemed, when it appeared to be, to quote Pooh, 'Time for a little Something.' He picked out a nearby rock, sat on it, enjoyed a smoke, took out his lunch, ate it, and had packed it up and was ready to press on when something about the rock caught his attention. He pushed over the rock and from under it crawled Dan.
"Hi," Dan said. "Do you know how much farther it is to the top?"
Ordinarily, Mark would have been surprised. Instead, he said he didn't know how far up it was, and that he was on his way up as well, and why didn't they travel together. Dan said that was a fine idea, and they shook hands, Mark standing slightly more up hill than Dan.
It was the last time Mark was ever on higher ground than his companion.
Dan said, "Let's do it," and took off. Up till then, since he had set his own pace, Mark had been able to delude himself into thinking that he was in fairly good shape. One look at Dan scooting up the side of the mountain changed his mind back to reality in a big ol' rush. Mark took off after him, scrambling and panting as though his heart, not his arm, had been replaced by medical science.
Sometime later, Dan said, "I don't think it's much farther now. It's just over that ridge. I rode my bike up here once (at which Mark goggled) but I've never walked it. You'll know you're at the top when you see the barbed wire fence. The other side's George Lucas's back yard. Myself, I've got to go -- I'm out of time." They shook hands again, and Dan went back.
Mark, however, had nothing but time. Mark was made of time. Mark was time embodied. Mark was also lazy. He shook himself and moved on.
He was a bit concerned about making it back down, and at this point that concern became genuine. He was indeed near the top of something, but there was not even a deer path to help him find a way. The ground was all over dry leaves, which didn't do anything for his traction (well, it made it damn near impossible).
He had to almost swing from trunk to trunk, using the occasional low-hanging branch or solid rock to push off from. Presently the terrain calmed down a bit and he made it to the top -- sure enough, there was the barbed wire fence. Mark followed the fence to the crest of the hill, and turned around to appreciate the view.
What He Finds There
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