Day Eight Hundred Thirty Nine #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Quasimo’s instructions as to the next waypoint on our desert crossing were somewhat vague. We were to direct our march towards the first mountain peak in a grouping of three until a single larger one came into view in the west.

It was easy enough to set our course in the dying light before setting out, but we were left wondering how we could detect the second in the dark. We may have to consider walking in the daylight hours.

We were able to hike for a couple of hours on the bedrock before it was subsumed again by the desert sands.

Then our pace greatly slowed. Whereas we had been quite talkative before, we fell silent with the exertion.

Day Seven Hundred Thirty Nine #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

By the time we went into camp last night, the view of our surroundings was cut off by a thick fog. Or they may have been clouds, given our elevation.

This morning, whether it was clouds or fog, they had all dissipated under the gaze of the rising sun. And we could then see the lake winking at us far below.

The way ahead was more difficult, narrowing down to a mere track. Beside us water splashed down the rock bed of the ever present brook.

I looked ahead and could see Tomas stopped on a precipice. And guessed the destination our army companions.

Flashes of white behind Tomas drew my eye to a glacier on the next mountain peak.

Day Two Hundred Fifty One #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We came to the mountain peak  at first light. Courtesy of the Spirit.

The view is unobstructed in all directions.  I wanted to see this view on our outbound trip weeks ago, but we kept to the pass which meanders by, far beneath us. We turn our backs on the flattened city with the fields and desert beyond and take in the other view. We see the walled city and its bridges where Elijah and I met.

Its distance means nothing. We could be there now if we wanted.

For now we wait.

I am intrigued by the ocean that awaits beyond that.

Day Seventy Two #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We were blind to all the obstacles. We hadn’t seen the canyon nor the river coursing at the bottom of it. All was hidden from our view before the most recent ridge we traversed.  What wasn’t there one minute, broke into our consciousness the next.

We hadn’t sent up our drones lately, now we launched one in each direction to scout a way across.

It’s a wild, fast-moving river. Too deep to ford and not a bridge in sight. The mountain peak from its lofty height laughed at our frustration.

Looking behind us, we had a clear view of the village, and of a bridge on another road leading out from it. If only it crosses the same river.