#densely packed clouds accompanied by wind

[marz-planet]

My vision when I can’t give a lovely person their valentines gift until 13 days late because that’s the soonest I can see them TT_TT

(I know it’s too busy for the eyeballs, I realized that after I made it, but it still looks weird without the pink bits :L)

[insane-brit]

Royalty (Ch. 2)

Muzan Kibutsuji x Soulmate!Fem!reader

Park Links: Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Tags/Warnings: Enemies to lovers, semi slow burn, dark story/themes, violence, fighting, mentions of prostitution/entertainment, anxiety, shock, anger, flashback.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word count: 2.7K

The trek to Yoshiwara felt almost effortless despite her interpersonal matters. Her mind was consumed with staring at the thread protruding from her wrist. Receiving this gift bestowed upon her kept her from an ounce of rest that night. She marveled at the tie and couldn’t help the flurry of questions that infiltrated her mind. As much as she prided herself in problem-solving and anything clever, her intellect was stumped. Regardless, she thanked whatever higher power for this opportunity that had forsaken her from a young age.  

She kept her promise to Tengen as much as she wanted to find him and ramble about the occurrence. He would be happy for her but the nagging in her mind knew that it would be selfish to present this information to him when his wives were in potential danger. When the sun broke through the horizon and dawn showed its lovely face, she packed her things and set off. It had been a day or two and the path ahead was cracked. Clear evidence was strewn about of it being a well-traveled route. She supposed that was a good thing. The blazing heat caused sweat to bead along her forehead and nape. Pulling on her haori, she fanned herself in a fruitless attempt to circulate air. 

It wouldn’t be long before she reached the district. The pit in her stomach from the night her thread appeared was still apparent. She thought that it was her intuition expecting something to happen. That something being the appearance of her soul tie, but with every passing minute, it never ceased. She had attempted to suppress the feeling while remaining cautious, but it would relapse and grow every time she tried to forget it. It caused her to lash out at a poor maple tree the previous night. Her Nichirin sword left deep grooves in the bark as she unleashed her irritability and unease. Lucky for her the outburst did not harm her blade. She did not have the time nor patience to deal with Haganezuka and his damned vengeance that would be seeking her blood. That man would know the moment any of his blades even had a scratch and the next minute he’d be screaming obscenities with steel to your throat. Sighing, she chuckled at the thought. He cared for his work, and she admired him for that.

The sun continued its descent to the horizon, the atmosphere growing ever so slightly cooler as she pursued the winding path. The tree’s canopy bestowed some shade upon her figure and a faint breeze accompanied the peaceful atmosphere. If she had to guess, she would make it to Yoshiwara a bit after the sun's rays faded under the vista. Perfect timing on her part and she mentally patted herself on the back.

The shade around her grew until it covered the terrain and a chill shot down her spine. The breeze blew some wisps of hair in front of her face. Caressing her features as she clutched the Tsuka of her blade. The ray skin was coarse against her palm and she gripped it until her knuckles turned white. There was virtually no sound. The birds were silent, cicadas halted their clamor, and all that was heard was the fluttering of leaves. Her heart was in her throat threatening to claw its way out, but she was static. Eyes swept across the dense foliage, searching for the source that caused much attentiveness. 

The crunching and rustling of leaves and twigs promptly made itself known as a commotion rapidly approached her stable form. The movement of air being cut resounded to her right and she swerved as an amalgamation of leathery skin settled in the spot she once stood. Its landing kicked up filth and a cloud of dust blew upwards. Eyes hardening, she readied herself as it subsided. Revealing one of the more grotesque demons she has ever had the pleasure of encountering. Its frame was thin, skin stretched over its bones. Back turned to her, it jolted, and she could hear cracking as its limbs moved unnaturally. The bending of tendons and grinding of joints had her mentally winching. 

“Wretched thing.” She seethed, angling her katana. The blade flashed in the dying rays of the sun and the emerging moonlight that peaked through the canopy. It snapped its head towards her, the eyes were pitch black with a single prick of white in the center and a red line streaked across it. A smile, full of needle-like teeth stretched as it locked its gaze onto her. It darted back and forth between her face and sword. If it was even possible, the grin got wider. 

“A Hashira,” its voice was grainy and sandpaper-like. “Lucky me.” 

She growled lowly and gritted her teeth. How revolting, and to think she was almost to her destination without getting into any trouble.

“I think you’ll find yourself unlucky.”  Digging her foot into the dirt she lunged at the monstrosity. Its face contorted in what looked to be glee before parrying her attack. Retaliating in a flurry of precise assaults aimed to incapacitate the slayer. She veered away with ease and brought her foot up, slamming it into its chest. Staggering backward it groaned, hesitating, and looking stunned. 

“Come on demon!” She hissed and swung her blade. The demon dodged and glared at her. Not making any sudden moves and being motionless. She furrowed her brows and kicked up dust to distract it. Why wasn’t it trying harder? It’s not even moving. 

She had advanced behind it and leaped. Readying her blade to strike its vital point. To sever its head from its neck and watch its twisted body disintegrate. It cocked its head towards her. Eyes wide and mouth stretched into a tight line. It seemed like it was forcibly constant. It raised its arm in a futile attempt to block as she sliced right through the flesh like butter despite its appearance. 

The body stiffened and collapsed in a heap as the head rolled. Coming to a stop a few feet away from her. She watched the expression on its face contort in a multitude of emotions.  “To think, for a second I thought you would’ve fought harder.” She smirked and sheathed her sword. It still looked at her. An expression of shock and something she couldn’t recognize. Frowning, she dusted herself off before turning away from the slowly deteriorating demon. 

“The progenitor.” it rasped. 

She halted and looked over her shoulder. Confusion and agitation were written across her face. 

“His presence,” it choked out as its mouth started to turn to ash. “Hashira, you- “

“Enough with your delusions demon!” she hissed and glowered at the lowly creature. “Whatever scheme you’re planning in death will not deface me in any way. You mutter nonsense and plead to the thing you call Master.” 

For a demon who appeared so delighted in the prospect of fighting a slayer earlier, it was quite a weak and depressing display. Begging for its Master, Kibutsuji Muzan, and conniving to bring her into the ordeal. Maybe it was going to threaten her. Regardless, she cut it off before it could utter its last words. The lower half of its face was gone, and the rest engulfed itself into cinders. Surroundings quiet once more, she stood there staring at where the demon once lay. Disgust and unease flooded her bloodstream. 

She shuffled from one foot to the other. Mulling over the limited words the demon spoke. Sure, these creatures threatened people, especially slayers, but she can't recall one ever mentioning him in their final moments. She had to admit, it was odd, but it had to just be trying to strike fear into her. Which ultimately failed. Kibutsuji was a master at evading the corps or he was just a coward. The only one to have seen him in ages was Tanjiro and he should be thankful to be alive. If she ever came face to face with the creator of these things she wouldn’t hesitate to fight to her dying breath. That was the oath she pledged long ago, and she would be damned if she broke it. However, killing his creations would suffice for now. Taking in her surroundings, she groaned realizing she would arrive later than she hoped. 

————————————————————————

The streets of the district were flooded with people. Loud chattering and bright lights evaded her senses as she took it all in. It had been a while since she walked its streets, but not much had changed. There were still the festivities, women entertaining avaricious men and hidden trades. Pulling out some of the letters Tengen gave her, she skimmed through them and made note of the houses each wife “belonged” to. Tokito, Kyogoku, and Ogimoto. Three of the top houses in the district. 

She stepped out into the crowd, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of bodies. It seemed that wherever she looked, more people spawned and searched for whatever kind of entertainment suited them. It felt almost impossible that she was ever going to find clues to where Tengen’s wives may be.  Much less encounter them. Going straight up to the houses didn’t feel like the best idea to her. She didn’t want to deal with the heads. Besides, if they were missing, she doubted they would know anything. Much less disclose that information to a random woman on the streets. She would have to wait for the pathways to clear if she dared try and use her forms. Even then it may attract attention, but she had to do it. She made a promise.

Pushing through the waves of people, she excused herself a multitude of times before falling silent. Opting to stick to the edge of the crowd to avoid getting swept away by its tide. Her sword had been tucked under her haori and she held it close to her side almost protectively. It brought a sense of comfort as she knew that having it meant being able to dispatch almost anything if she felt it was necessary. 

Gripping the hilt, she flinched at the sudden pressure in her wrist. Looking down, she observed her thread and saw that it had tightened slightly. Pupils blown she jerked her head up. Looking at it as it weaved itself through the crowd of passersby.  

Are they here?

Following the line, she saw that it led to a prominent house in the district, the Kyogoku House. She felt a slight pang in her heart at the thought of her soulmate engaging with other women, but maybe that wasn’t the case. She reassured herself and stepped through the crowd. A few people rammed into her, and others mumbled vulgar things as she excused herself. Just checking wouldn’t hurt right? She couldn’t make much progress in the way of using her forms to locate Suma, Makio, and Hinatsuru until the masses died down anyway. At least, that’s what she told herself. Truth be told she was often unable to restrain herself when it came to certain things. Though rare, this was one of those times, but she would never admit that. 

Freeing herself from the horde she continued following the glowing fiber. It darted around a corner and felt tauter than ever before. She leaned against the wall of a building and took a deep breath. Her feet felt heavy as she stepped out from the corner. The area before her was dark. Not terribly so, but devoid of more people than the street behind her. A few mingled about and the lights gave off a subtle amber. Only illuminating a few feet away from their position. Surveying the scene, she followed the string as it stopped where darkness met light. 

A man stood there, back facing her. An obvious line hovered between them. Bleeding a scarlet hue. She squinted and stepped forward trying to get a better look at the man, but as her eyes adjusted, she froze. 

Air caught in her lungs, and she found it hard to breathe. Her mind went blank save for all but one memory. 

 ————————————————————————

Sitting next to his hospital bed at the Butterfly Mansion, she smiled softly at the young boy. He was bright, and his spirit spoke for him. It was quite rare to see such a youthful soul full of compassion and determination in the face of danger. 

“Tanjiro,” she started looking slightly downcast. “May I ask you a question?” 

He regarded her with that same smile and nodded his head. “Of course!”

Sucking in a breath, she looked away before locking her eyes with his. 

“What did Kibutsuji look like?” 

The smile that graced his face downturned as he gazed at his hands. Gripping the sheets until she swore, he would tear them. It was an immediate switch and fury radiated off him. He clenched his jaw as she went to speak but he cut her off before a sound could be uttered from her mouth. 

“Human,” he exhaled. “Completely human.” 

Cocking her head, she furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?” 

“He blended in with everyone. No one could tell that he was a demon. Only me,” the fire in his eyes smoldered as he continued. “His eyes were a deep red, black hair that hung closer to his shoulders in the front, pale skin, and he wore a black patterned suit with a white hat.” 

She could see him slightly shaking at the mention of Kibutsuji. Not from fear. It was anything but fear. 

At that moment she felt terrible. She had heard from Tomioka briefly about what had transpired in the mountains with Tanjiro’s family. Later, Tanjiro filled in the missing details himself. She felt reluctant to have learned of such an event as it felt too personal, but if he discerned her to be someone he could confide in, she wouldn’t turn him away. 

“I’ll kill him if it’s the last thing I do,” he seethed. “He’ll pay for what he’s done.” 

Remaining silent she observed him. Reaching out she put her hand on his shoulder. A means of comforting the boy, however, deep down she knew that no amount of comfort could close a wound so deep. Giving him a soft smile, she stood up. 

“I believe in you but be careful,” he looked up at her. The fire slowly smothered itself out. “You’re a good person but don’t get ahead of yourself. Your sister needs you. The corps needs you. There’s been too many people lost.” 

He studied her expression before giving her another big smile. “Right, of course!”

Regarding him with a nod of her head she turned to leave but paused. “And Tanjiro, just know you’re not alone.” 

 ————————————————————————

Bile rose and burned her throat. Swallowing her tongue was the only thing keeping her from retching. One hand pulled at her collar and the other shakily reached for the Tsuka of her Katana, the world around her seemed to slow and fall away. Gaze solely focused on the man feet away from her.

Jet black suit. A rustic gold pattern on parts.

Her eyes darted around. 

White hat.

She sucked in a breath.

Sickly skin. Dark hair.

Blood trickled and filled her mouth with iron as teeth punctured her lower lip. 

Mind racing, she pleaded for him to not turn around. This had to be a mistake. A coincidence even. There was no way this could be the same man that Tanjiro described. That this could be Kibutsuji. There had to be many others out there who looked similar. Her chest hurt from how hard her heart pounded. It was in her ears and a cold chill ran through her body. 

He appeared to be contemplating. Clearly sensing her gaping at him. Cocking his head in her direction, he fully pivoted it towards her. The coiling pit that constricted her stomach like a snake snapped. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth parted slightly. A choked noise fell on deaf ears. 

His gaze locked with hers and carnage churned in them.

The attachment tightened, locking. Signifying what she dreaded and didn’t want to admit once she feasted her eyes on him. 

His eyes were a cavernous crimson.

His pupils were slits. 

[scarletwritesshit]

Louis Guiabern x Will🐍One Last Dance

🐍IX. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Count will be with you wherever you go

Louis flung the doors of the inn open as if he owned the place. He might as well, given all of the money, if not blatant authority, he had. The doors almost bounced back and hit Will in the face from the sheer amount of force Louis used to open them. He wouldn’t have even seen it coming, as his eyes were still adjusting to the early morning sunlight.

It was too early to deal with his shit. Way too early for this.

"Isn’t this place most spectacular?" Louis said. "The breeze blowing in is refreshing, there is not a cloud in sight in the sky, and the ocean air is crisp and fresh!"

"It’s… great," Will said, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, wake up little one," Louis said, giving Will a pat on his back. "Much awaits us on this fair afternoon."

"Isn’t today the day of the tournament? I thought that you didn’t care."

"So it is. The streets will be bare for us to roam with minimal interruption."

"And isn’t Junah performing at the ceremony? Are we not going to see her?"

"Basilio and Fidelio are accompanying her. In truth, I could care less."

Now Will was simply baffled, his lingering sleepiness not helping. "But, aren’t you two-"

"Nonsense. I only keep that pretty little songbird in a cage to sing me a melody when I desire."

So I have a chance, Will thought, his heart jumping out of his chest.

…A chance at what, exactly?

"That’s a little cruel if you’d ask me," Will commented.

"The agreement upon the terms of her stay was mutual. I permitted her to accompany me if I found her singing appealing. It was...acceptable, so I allowed her to join the ranks."

"Acceptable? The people seem to love her."

"I never was one for celebrities. But she keeps the peoples’ spirits high and favor in me, so I suppose who am I to care?"

Louis continued to insist apathy on the subject matter. He seemed to be long done with the conversation before it even started. It was probably because Junah was nothing more than one of many pawns to him, Will concluded. In his best interest, he decided to simply drop the conversation and let the topic go.

"...What has you up at such an early hour?" Will asked.

"Preparations for the soiree must be set in motion, but it is such a pleasantly quiet morning that I would be wrong to not take advantage of it for a leisurely stroll."

Will looked out in the direction of the coliseum. A densely packed line extending beyond the line was already formed of people waiting to get in. Either people cared that much about the tournament or they simply caught wind of Lady Junah being present. Or they just liked a spectacle. Regardless, Louis was unfortunately right about the streets being dead silent. A petty thing for Will to want to disagree on, but there was no way possible for him to without making a circus out of himself.

As they strolled through the barren streets, a few curious onlookers turned their heads towards them. They couldn’t help but stare, directly and out of the corner of their eyes, and Will did his best to shy away from eye contact. Louis was unbothered and walked tall and proud, long used to such gazes being casted upon him.

He nudged Will closer and kept him close to his side as they walked, as if to say, "this dog belongs to me, and me alone." A point Will had no interest in arguing at the moment.

Minor side-eyes and crowded arena aside, it was a most peaceful morning. The air of calm was suffocated only by the presence of that pretentious bitch right next to him. He wasn’t sure when he would once again experience the light of day free of any such burdens, especially once the crowds came pouring back into the street. The weight of his presence made it a bit difficult for Will to track down Gallica and his group without alluding too much to his intentions. If Louis was truly that fond of him, then perhaps he would be more than happy to oblige to one little request.

"...May we make one stop along the way before preparations are due?" Will asked.

"Hm? Where to?"

"To the docks. It’s not really important if you can’t make it, though."

"For a little bit of gazing at the sea? I do have time to spare for you, if that is what you wish."

Sure. Let’s go with that. Will just wanted a chance to see if his friends’ gauntlet runner just so happened to be stationed nearby.

The view of Louis's gauntlet runner overshadowed most of what there could possibly be to look at. Thankfully, it wasn’t the sea that Will was scouting out, but that big hunk of metal was still quite the eyesore nonetheless. He to look around the best he could, avoiding the attention of Louis, but all that he saw were the runners of the other teams. Did they fail the mission? It was just as likely that they’ve regrouped elsewhere to formulate a different plan now Will was gaining Louis's favor so easily. None of them had interest in running for the throne themselves, either. With that being said, it had occurred to Will that he sent Gallica away for the sole purpose of tracking them down to exchange updates on both sides. And it was likely that she would not return for quite some time.

A problem that persisted was the chance of Louis inquiring about her absence. The distaste for each other was mutual, so it was unlikely that he would be majorly concerned with her whereabouts. Never minding that issue, Will continued scanning the area around him on the off chance that he would catch a glimpse of a comfortably familiar sight.

Nothing.

With the way that the arena had become packed, it was easy to assume that they had reached the height of the show. By now, his associates would be far too late, and thus be unable to qualify.

It was only now that Will had realized just how alone he was on this mission.

Alone, except for the company of his target.

"It is a lot to take in, isn’t it?" Louis said, snapping Will out of his trance.

"Uh... yeah. This whole place huge for my size."

"Better get used to it. Soon, the vast expanse of the Kingdom of Euchronia will between your fingers."

I’ll be under your boot, so it will all balance out, Will thought.

"Riiiight..." Will said, still looking for the company of his friends.

The docks were wide and expansive, and so was the free land in the vicinity of the port city. But nowhere held any lingering trace of Will’s brigade. With the exception of Gallica’s hopeful return, Will was only armed with his intellect and the patience of a saint.

Calling him a patient saint was a bit of a stretch, but one satisfactory snap on Louis was not worth the failure of the entire mission.

Louis stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of one of the clock towers, and his expression grew dim. It was far from a worrisome shift, as Will knew that this outing was destined to be a short one. Still, it caught his eye, as a change in his usual smug demeanor was notably unusual nonetheless.

"I’m afraid if I spend more time wandering around leisurely, then preparations will be delayed more than they need to be," Louis said.

"I don’t mind coming with," Will said, albeit reluctantly.

"You need not to do work outside of your description. Besides, I invite you to this gathering more as a guest of mine rather than staff. It would be unfair to make a guest set up their own party."

"Its fine. I can still be of use to you."

Louis grabbed Will’s shoulder and leaned in. He could hardly make out Louis’s expression from the hair that had fallen over his eyes, but Will all of a sudden felt a great discomfort in the air.

And it felt like he was being watched. By something, or someone, very, very hungry.

"Worry not, my darling. Your use will come in handy later."

The count's words sent shivers through every nerve in his body. This is what Will needed: to be useful in some way that kept his high position firmly secured. But "use" had a multitude of meanings, none better than the others knowing how that snake was.

His hand slid off of Will’s shoulder and he turned his back. Louis shot one final side eye to Will, eyes narrowing and smiling confidently.

That look, Will thought.

That bloody look again...

There was something about that overly confident gaze that he just wanted to...

Well, he didn’t know what he wanted to do. But it certainly filled him with some kind of feeling that made his heart jump out of his chest every time. Regardless, it was an unpleasant feeling. It was as if his heart was trying to pry him away from his goal of killing Louis, for gods know what reason.

He mustn’t allow himself to be swayed by his words. At the same time, humoring the count to get a little closer could do him some good in the long run. Gallica wasn’t around to judge him for his words, so he could...

A cold salty sea breeze smacked Will, snapping him back to reality. For now, Will was alone, devious snake of a partner or not. His friends were hopefully in the back lines formulating a plan of attack, and Gallica was currently trying to seek them out to update them on the situation. All he had now was Louis and his brigade of freaks, which he still counted as him being alone given how he didn’t have any interest in associating with them. It was no better than being a mouse trapped in a den of snakes.

For the time being, Will should enjoy his brief moment of freedom. The streets were barren, and despite the salty chill in the air, he had room to breathe away from Louis. Though it felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders, a part of him was also missing.

He will feel better when Gallica returns, surely.

With great solitude in the streets, comes silence from within the market as well. Stalls were empty, as everyone had gone off to watch the event that would play a part in determining how the rest of their lives would be. Restaurants and bars were no better as well, with closed signs hanging up or doors locked with no signs of life from within. With nowhere worthwhile to spend his time, Will was better off returning to his room and finding something else to preoccupy himself with.

Or rather, back to Louis's room.

Everywhere he went, it seemed as if he ultimately couldn’t escape him.

It was just a room in an inn. It shouldn’t mean much. It was either do nothing in the freezing sea breeze or do nothing with the comfort of blankets.

In the room alone, it was sort of dull without the constant bullying from Gallica or that blonde prick to annoy. But at the very least, he had the ever-reliable companionship of his fantasy novel to depend on. A book he had read time and again, its ideals as timeless as its pages. Laying down on the bed, he flipped to a random page and began to read.

The immediate result is that everyone mentioned on the list becomes suspicious of everything in human shape. They all stop trusting one another, and stop being trustworthy. They live in a constant state of terror, which is perfectly justified – for it’s often been known to happen that all of them, including the king himself, are betrayed by the very person that they pinned most faith on.

The words lingered in his mind for a few moments before he could bring himself to move on. Why they stuck with him for so long, he couldn’t exactly answer that. Nevertheless, he continued reading.

Sometime into the late afternoon, the handle on the door rattled. A visitor…even though Will knew exactly who it could be, it didn’t exactly bring him much comfort.

"Hm? You’re back so soon," Louis said, gently shutting the door behind him.

"There’s nowhere to go. Every stall has been left abandoned in favor of watching the race," Will said, not bothering to pry his eyes away from his book.

"Why not join them? Surely, it would be a better use of your time than just lazing around shut in here."

Will closed his book and tossed it aside, rolling onto his back. "Imagine the people’s faces when 'that elda boy' shows up as part of the crowd instead of down there with them. Doesn’t inspire much confidence, I don’t think."

"More than enough people have seen you walking alongside me for the word to spread. There would be little question as to where you stood in terms of the race."

"Tell me about it. The rumors have already started to spread."

"Baseless nonsense, the all of them," Louis said with a sigh, almost cutting off Will.

"A little defensive, are we?" Will teased.

"Do you take me as a fool who cannot recognize utter blasphemy?"

Gallica wasn’t physically here, yet Will could feel her staring down them both with utter disgust.

"I only jest," Will said, wanting to save himself from the wrath of Louis for the time being.

Louis's gaze softened, as if a legitimate concern of his was no longer. Will must’ve rubbed him the wrong way with such a comment. Strange, though, as he didn’t seem to pay any mind to the fleeting accusations made in regards to him and Junah.

"Very funny, you are," Louis said, feigning amusement.

"I didn’t think that you would he back so soon yourself," Will said, quickly changing the topic. He propped his head up to look curiously at Louis.

"There is only so much one can accomplish in the span of a day. Reservations have been confirmed, and supplies are on order. Make too much haste, and the dust will gather before the festivities can begin."

He has this thing planned down to the dust on the tables, Will thought. Impressive, if not a bit pretentious.

Louis sat aside his igniter chestplate and tossed his cape onto the floor. "Besides. You’re already here. I have no reason to waste my day away for your return."

"That lonely?" Will asked. "You know, I did offer to come alongside you to help prepare."

Louis didn’t respond.

"I guess it is pretty cold outside anyways. Sort of brutal for the season, it feels like."

"Such is the cruelty of nature," Louis remarked. "Even the gentlest of sea breezes can bring a chill to the bone."

"Safe to assume that these next few nights are going to be brutally cold?"

"Regrettably so."

"Then we should ask them for some more blankets."

"What we have is what we get. These places don’t have the luxury of simply giving everyone extra coverage upon request, especially assuming that travelers are long used to such conditions."

"In order words, we’re doomed to freeze all through the night?" Will said, his head falling back onto the pillow.

"...If you believe that to be the case."

Will knew exactly what he was going to suggest. And he knew exactly how he was going to respond.

No.

Not in a million years.

Even sitting across the room from Louis was too close for him. The only thing of Will’s that should even come into contact with that bastard was the tip of a dagger to slit his throat. He would much rather freeze to death.

Alone.

[tinygarden-me]

STORIES • Swen

The air was thick with a damp, clayey smell—evidence of rain-soaked earth mixed with the decaying flesh of wild animals. I ducked low behind a twisted trunk, my heart pounding in time with the quiet rumble of the surrounding jungle. Rainbow hues of mutated plants shimmered softly as pale shafts of sunlight filtered through the dense foliage above. My previously slow breath quickened as I peered around the gnarled branches to catch sight of my enemy. Radix Predatoria, a carnivorous plant named for its roots that writhed like snakes, ready to strike. A soft hiss. It had sensed me, and the air seemed to freeze with tension. It spun around suddenly, its tentacle-like vine snapping toward me with a bang. I rolled away just in time, feeling a gust of wind as the tentacle flew past my face. The underbrush trembled with its aggressive movements, and I could feel every vibration transmitted through the earth and into my bones. “Oh you!” I cried, pulling out my old, worn knife. Its blade was coated in a layer of rust, as if long forgotten by the world, yet I kept it carefully sharpened. It was a primitive weapon, but I had learned long ago that survival depended more on speed and agility than on the power of my wielding. I lunged forward, aiming for the heart of the leafy beast. With a quick thrust, I plunged the knife into the fleshy, green center. I watched with pleasure as its sap clashed with the dull gray of the world I knew. “Eeeek!” A grotesque cry tore from the plant, a sound more befitting a living creature than a green monster. It convulsed, releasing a cloud of spores that filled the air with a sickly sweet scent. I stumbled back, feeling sick to my stomach. I pressed forward again, twisting the knife before stabbing again. “Stay where you are, you overgrown weed!” I shouted, determination fueling my blows. With a final thrust, the blade dug deeper, the plant’s cries fading to a pitiful whine before it fell dead into the underbrush. Panting, I pulled the knife out and wiped it on my now rather dirty pants. My heart rate began to calm, the adrenaline slowly draining from my system, and as the world fell silent, I allowed myself a moment’s respite. Victory was a small consolation in the chaos that had consumed everything above and below the ground. I slowly rose, feeling the tension in my muscles give way to exhaustion. The ground beneath my feet was still damp, as if soaked not only with water but also with the shadow of that short, brutal fight. My breathing evened out, and my heart stopped pounding. I was alive! I continued on, knife in hand, though my hand was shaking, betraying how tired I was. The road ahead was tightly packed with vegetation, but at least it didn’t lead to the swamp. The last thing I wanted was to run into some animal that would decide my skeleton would be a great addition to its dinner. As I passed through the thickets that obscured everything, I caught the same familiar, sickly scent that had accompanied my fight moments earlier. I froze. At first glance, there seemed to be nothing there, but my nose and eyes told me otherwise. Bushes. Too thick, too tall to be considered ordinary vegetation. After a moment, I noticed movement. Slow. Unconscious, but definitely alive. Radix Predatoria! Another one, and right on the only road that would take me away from these damned swamps! I took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden surge of adrenaline that was starting to build up pressure in my head again. She hadn’t sensed me yet. Maybe I had a moment to think. But what to do? I closed my eyes for a split second, pushing down all doubt. “Act before it does,” I told myself. I gripped the knife in my hand, waiting for the moment for the weed to move. I knew that if I gave it time, it would end like any other fight, only this time it might not be in my favor. I lunged forward, aiming for the most exposed part of the stem. The blade dug deep, but to my surprise I… https://bigpotato.online/viewtopic.php?p=5&utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_campaign=tiny%20garden%20%E2%80%94%20tinygarden-me#p5

[jimcorbett]

Unveiling Adventurous Activities in Nainital

Exploring the Wilderness of Nainital

Nainital, nestled in the Kumaon region of Uttarakhand, India, is a mesmerizing hill station renowned for its picturesque landscapes, serene lakes, and lush greenery. But beyond its tranquil ambiance lies a treasure trove of adventurous activities waiting to be explored.

Trekking Trails: A Thrilling Journey Amidst Nature

Embark on an exhilarating journey through the rugged terrain of Nainital with its myriad trekking trails. From the renowned Naina Peak to the lesser-known Tiffin Top, each trail offers a unique perspective of the surrounding Himalayan peaks and dense forests. Witness the breathtaking sunrise from atop the mountains or immerse yourself in the tranquil beauty of pristine waterfalls along the way.

Paragliding: Soaring High Above the Clouds

For the adrenaline junkies seeking an unparalleled experience, paragliding in Nainital is a must-try adventure. Feel the rush of wind against your face as you glide over the emerald valleys and azure lakes, soaking in the panoramic views of the majestic Himalayas. With experienced instructors and state-of-the-art equipment, Nainital offers a safe yet thrilling paragliding experience for adventurers of all levels.

Water Sports: Dive Into Excitement

Nainital's serene lakes transform into playgrounds for water sports enthusiasts, offering a plethora of activities to quench your thirst for adventure. Kayaking through the tranquil waters of Bhimtal Lake or canoeing in the pristine surroundings of Naukuchiatal Lake provides an exhilarating experience amidst nature's tranquility. For those seeking an adrenaline rush, water skiing and banana boat rides are perfect choices to add a dash of excitement to your Nainital adventure.

Wildlife Safari: A Glimpse Into the Wild

Delve into the heart of Nainital's wilderness with a thrilling wildlife Jim Corbett Safari. While Jim Corbett National Park is often associated with Nainital, it's a separate entity. Nevertheless, it's a must-visit destination for wildlife enthusiasts. Home to a diverse array of flora and fauna, including the majestic Royal Bengal tiger, the park offers an unforgettable wildlife experience. Traverse through dense forests, grasslands, and riverine belts, accompanied by expert guides who unravel the mysteries of the jungle, making it a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

. While Jim Corbett National Park is often associated with Nainital, it's a separate entity. Nevertheless, it's a must-visit destination for wildlife enthusiasts. Home to a diverse array of flora and fauna, including the majestic Royal Bengal tiger, the park offers an unforgettable wildlife experience. Traverse through dense forests, grasslands, and riverine belts, accompanied by expert guides who unravel the mysteries of the jungle, making it a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

Camping Under the Starlit Sky

Escape the hustle and bustle of city life and reconnect with nature through camping in Nainital's pristine wilderness. Whether it's riverside camping along the banks of the Kosi River or jungle camping amidst dense forests, the region offers a plethora of camping options for every adventurer. Spend your evenings around a crackling bonfire, gazing at the starlit sky, and sharing stories under the blanket of nature's embrace.

Conclusion

Nainital, with its breathtaking landscapes and thrilling adventures, beckons travelers from far and wide to immerse themselves in its beauty and excitement. Whether you're a nature enthusiast, an adrenaline junkie, or a wildlife lover, Nainital has something for everyone. So pack your bags, embark on a journey of discovery, and create unforgettable memories amidst the scenic wonders of Nainital.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-20: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it.  And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“Let’s let bygones be bygones. Now that you’ve returned to the family, you ought to uphold your mission.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

It was already late at night by the time the celebration ended.

Stepping into my apartment, I off-handedly turned the TV on. The results of the Warson Prize Contest were currently being broadcasted. I saw my utterly crestfallen face flash across the screen.

An’an’s incoming message snapped me out of my depressing reverie.

❖☆———————————★❖

An'an (SMS): Let’s go out for a round of hotpot before you leave the country again. We’ll order a gazillion dishes and eat till we forget all our troubles!

MC (SMS): Then I want milk tea and barbecue. You’re gonna have to accompany me on a food trip all over Guangqi City!

An'an (SMS): Huh? But, don’t you need to go back?

MC (SMS): No. I intend to stay here… It’s actually quite a long story so I’ll tell you about it another time.

❖☆———————————★❖

After a short while of feeling in the dumps, I pushed away all the sadness and dissatisfaction I felt, locking it deep inside my heart.

Though my lone return back to this country didn’t make for a good start this time, I refuse to doubt my own ability. Besides, I still have friends here who support me.

It is only with this mindset that I can welcome a brand new day tomorrow.

I just turned off the TV and focused on packing the stuff from the competition away while thinking about the next step I should take.

MC: My hopes for winning the championship and making my own brand have all but fizzled out into nothing. What should I do next…?

Suddenly, my phone vibrated to life atop the table. An unknown number was displayed on the screen.

???: Hello. I am Mya, calling from Warson’s Design Hub.

Mya!?

MC: Hello… May I ask why you’re calling me?

Mya: You left a pretty big impression on me during the Warson Prize Contest. You’re pretty good for a greenhorn.

Mya: Although you still have a long way to go in terms of your designs, I can’t deny that you’re gifted.

Mya: The Warson Brand, which is currently looking to be refurbished, requires new blood.

MC: You mean to say…

I felt my heart race, thudding erratically.

Mya: Miss (Y/n), as a representative of the Warson Group…

Mya: I’d like to invite you to join us at Warson’s Design Hub as a Junior Fashion Designer.

Mya: HR will be emailing you the official offer letter in a moment. Please consider our offer seriously. For Fashion Designers like us, our starting point is of the utmost importance.

Mya: It’s a rare opportunity for greenhorns like you to be able to stand on the shoulders of a giant as they proceed onwards along their path.

Mya: And Warson is that giant. The giant of the Fashion Industry.

❖☆———————————★❖

I opened my email after the call to check. I’d indeed gotten an offer letter from them.

My name was written beneath the golden logo. It was just as Mya had told me earlier. Warson was really offering me the position of Junior Fashion Designer.

I read every word and sentence thoroughly, only for my eyes to pause on the signature.

MC: Warson Group, Evan Lu…

Before all of this, it wasn’t as if I never thought of joining a company. I simply wanted to try a little bit harder on my own, in hopes of establishing my personal brand.

However, I realized after this contest that my skills weren’t as mature and well-developed as I’d thought. There were still many things that I had to learn and understand.

And perhaps, Warson was just what I needed to help me cross the bridge.

Even if I am unsure whether I can thread safely upon this sudden path that has opened before me, I’m willing to give it a try and aim for higher heights.

❖☆———————————★❖

Basked under the same moonlight, in a room of a mansion located on the other end of the City… The bright lights were suddenly extinguished.

A middle-aged man was kneeling on a knee in the centre of the room, bowing his head respectfully before an imposing, yet dignified, old man.

???: What is the situation?

Lu Ting: …The Purplite bird in District 5 has disappeared, and tag HCP18407 is still being tracked.

A heavy sigh sounded. It was only after a long while that the voice continued speaking once more.

???: If such a thing happens again, then there will no longer be any need for you to return here.

❖☆———————————★❖

Lu Ting took his leave of the room. The wavering candlelights on both sides of the corridor elongated his shadow, casting upon the wall, where it trembled with restrained fury.

Footsteps echoed through the hallway as another figure passed by him.

Lu TIng: You shouldn’t have returned here.

Evan made no move to reply, his smile deepening.

❖☆———————————★❖

He pushed open those heavy doors, heading towards the hunched figure, and the nightscape reflected behind.

???: Let’s let bygones be bygones. Now that you’ve returned to the family, you ought to uphold your mission.

???: You will help Lu Ting with the nameplate.

Evan: Consider it done.

???: This is our last chance. We must not err.

His body gradually disappeared, yet his voice still lingered, reverberating through the room.

Evan stood silently at the centre of the room, an iciness creeping up, masking his features.

Evan made no move to reply, his smile deepening.

Evan: Last chance…?

❖☆———————————★❖

A blue-ish purple bird flapped its wings outside the window, soaring up high, above the highest point of the City before dissipating into mist.

All the people who were asleep were unable to hear its shrieking cry.

A sliver of scarlet peeks out from amongst the dense clouds in the sky.

A new day is approaching.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-19 Light) / (Chapter 1-19 Night) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-1)

[pcttrailsidereader]

July 9, 2010 . . . A (Trail)Magical Evening at Drakesbad

By Rees Hughes

There are certain magical days on the Pacific Crest Trail that stand tall; days that rise above that broad forest of glorious days.   These are the days that your memory immediately races to when you reflect on your life on the trail.  There was the day we guessed our way around snow-covered Mt. Adams ending on a ridge with a commanding view of Mt. Rainier and a solstice sunset; the day we swam our way down Falls Creek marveling at the granite walls above Grace Meadows only to while away an afternoon in the soft, lush grass basking in the warm sun near Wilmer Lake; or the day we walked south from Cook and Green Pass past Kangaroo Springs to Lower Devils Peak with its ringside seat to the conflagration raging across the Klamath River Valley.  Every hiker has their transcendent days.

Such days do not always represent a confluence of everything wonderful.  It is their enchanted quality, what English writer Nan Fairbrother calls “exquisite moments,” that sets them apart.  Besides, time seems to blur the difficult and brighten the best experiences of these stellar days.  Such was the case this particular day.

The day dawned with vestiges of the tumultuous evening resting on the peaks above Lower Twin Lake in Lassen Volcanic National Park.  We tried to shake off as much moisture as possible but there was no alternative but to pack the tents wet again.  Dr. Howard tended to Don and Eli’s ailing feet.  Wet boots and long days had chaffed their feet raw with blisters compounding their discomfort.  There were unspoken thoughts of an early exit from the trail as it is no fun when each step hurts.  Perhaps a short day will improve spirits.

Speed bumps of late season snow gave way to long stretches of snow sheltered by the dense tree canopy.  I always find these situations wearing if not exhausting.  Climbing up and down the steep edges of the snow banks; picking your path around downed trees; add in a couple of postholes.   We carefully crossed several creeks swollen by the melt water and preceding night’s rainfall. About midday we reached the crest of a line of basalt cliffs that comprise Flatiron Ridge high above the Warner Valley and, more importantly, Drakesbad.

Drakesbad, initially established clear back in 1900 as a guest ranch, remains a rustic refuge accessible via a corrugated unpaved road seventeen miles in from Chester (which is pretty remote itself) or on foot.  There are only nineteen units at Drakesbad some of which still rely on kerosene lamps.  However, the price for a night rivals the cost of a month on the PCT.  Yet, during much of the summer, accommodations have been reserved for years.  It really is a Northern California Shangri-la.

As we made the long traverse down, we could see the steam rising from the hot spring pool set out in a broad meadow.  The siren song of happy voices pulled us forward.  Our own chatter focused on the possibility of reserving a space for dinner.

We set up our tents in the Park Service’s Warner Valley Campground, hung a line and did our best to give the high mountain sun a chance to dry out our saturated gear.  Howard and I were nominated to walk the half mile to Drakesbad to ask about a table for four in the well ventilated section.  We donned clean tee-shirts and tried to sponge away the most offensive trail musk.

As we stepped into the closed space of the dining room, even our deadened noses became aware of the aroma that accompanied us.  The colorful tablecloths festooned the light wood of the dining room.  The room was set for dinner.  Salad forks.  Second spoons.  Wine glasses.  The ambiance was simple but elegant.   The realization that we didn’t fit here made us yearn for the opportunity that much more.

A tall woman brusquely emerged from what appeared to be the kitchen.  She had the air of a person with a long list of urgent tasks and little time for hiker trash.  Our first efforts to turn on the charm bounced off her and fell impotently to the floor.

We continued, “Any chance, any chance at all, that there might be a way to handle four more this evening?”  We weren’t above inserting a hint of desperation in our request.

“The Ranch is full and we usually only have enough food for our paying guests,” she replied without a hint of sympathy.  There was a pause as she saw our crestfallen faces.  “I will check with the chef and see if there is likely to be extra food.”   Perhaps it was her Germanic accent that underscored the futility of our quest.   Perhaps it was that she didn’t seem to be heading off to ask anyone anything.

We turned to go, tails between our legs.  Don and Eli will be so disappointed.  We had hoped this would be an antidote for their blistered feet and bruised morale.

With one foot out the door, Howard asked if it might be possible to use the phone for a quick call home as our cell phones had not been working along this stretch of the PCT.

It was if Howard had uttered a magic incantation that had propelled us into a parallel universe.  We were Dorothy trying to get into Oz.  “Why didn’t you say you were on the Crest Trail,” Billie Fiebiger exclaimed.  “We always have enough food for PCT hikers.”  In fact, Billie gave us the key to the city.  “Use the showers (please) and the pool.  Make yourselves at home.  Come back at 7 p.m. although you may not be seated until later.”  Still shaking our heads at our good fortune and this rather mysterious turn of events, we hurried back to tell Don and Eli the news before the spell was broken.

As the four of us returned the dark clouds that had dogged us the past several days were building quickly.  But, the warm showers and the hydrothermal pool kept us occupied until the rumble of thunder became more aggressive. Within minutes the remaining blue patches of sky vanished.  Lightning forced us reluctantly to vacate the pool.  The hail drove us for cover under the eaves of the bathhouse.   The gusting winds pushed tentacles of rain toward even the most protected corners.

Valiant employees raced down the trail to the pool in an electric cart to rescue the castaways three per trip.  The meadow had been transformed into a Sargasso Sea and the pyrotechnics kept us all jumpy.  Eventually we were deposited in the Lodge where we were to wait until dinner.

The photo albums and memorabilia in the Lodge deepened our appreciation for just what a special place Drakesbad is.  For two generations the Sifford family had built and tended this Guest Ranch.  For over 60 years they reclaimed the facility after each harsh winter for its four months of annual operation.  It had to be a labor of love.  The facility was incorporated into the National Park in 1958.  For the past 19 years, Ed and Billie Fiebiger have served as the hosts, caretakers, and stewards of Drakesbad.

Ed, in his chef’s apron, called us for dinner.  We crossed to the dining hall and were promptly seated.  There were several choices of entrees.  Or, Ed suggested, “Try them all!”  Heaping plates were brought to each of us.  The folks at the adjacent table took a special interest in our story.  One of their group had come annually for nearly fifty years.  Another from their table was sent back to their cabin and instructed to return with some of their wine stash to be shared with us.  “White or red?”  “No”, she instructed her husband, “bring one of each.”  We were peppered with questions and asked quite a few of our own.  We soaked up the attention that comes with being minor celebrities.

Ed pulled up a chair.  He had a bigger than life quality and exuded a warmth that permeated the hospitality of this magical place.

My cynical side wanted to peer around to make sure that we were not being fattened up by some wicked witch.  But, Drakesbad is a place that replenishes your faith in the generosity of the human spirit.  Distrust, doubt, and skepticism have no place here.

And, there was desert too.  In fact, there were three kinds.  “Try them all!”

It was tempting to linger much longer than we did.  I confess that it was all I could to restrain myself from asking if they served breakfast too.

Eventually we said reluctant goodbyes and enthusiastic thank yous.  The rain had stopped by the time we walked back toward our campsite.  If we weren’t walking down the road with our arms around each other, singing and talking loudly, then it felt like there was that sense of conviviality. 

The storm had spread our clothes across our campsite and sent cascades of water around our tents.   But there was nothing capable of dampening our spirits on this magical day.

[unicyclehippo]

Can we get more of the “beau feels powerless/dragon didn’t give anything” story? I wanna know what zolly’s opinion on the matter was lol.

the dragon is coming with them, apparently. the trek down the mountainside takes much of the morning—would have taken longer but about an hour to the base, they had heard the cacophony of ice and stone and fury as zoelfir tore apart the remainder of what had been their nest, and had become their prison. the avalanche that slid and tumbled and tore down the mountain as zolly did so had caleb and jester leaping from the rocks as immense eagles, their friends clutched in each claw.

the tressveld forest clings tight to the base of the mountain, dense and dark and from the air is looks like a skirt of green rippling out in hills and vales from the ivory peaks. caleb and jester set down on the edge, a wary eye turned to the mountain in case the avalanche follows them so far.

‘so...back to xhorhaus?’

caleb screeches.

‘dude, shut the fuck up. do you want every dire wolf from miles around to come try and eat us?’

caleb shuffles, bobs his head and taps her hard on the skull. tries to, anyway. beau ducks away, raps a knuckle on his beak.

‘are we teleporting or what?’

‘well if you had stayed to talk with zolly last night,’ nott begins, sounding for all the world like she’s half a second from adding something like, this is your own fault, beauregard, if you had been listening you’d know...

beau scowls hard. ‘it’s a yes or a fucking no, nott.’

‘a fucking no? the no has to be fucking?’

‘nott,’

‘we’re waiting for zolly,’ she finally concedes. ‘caleb is taking us to nicodranas.’

beau’s eyes slide across to jester on instinct; it’s hard to tell as an eagle whether she’s happy about that, though beau is pretty sure she would be. it’s been a few weeks, maybe a month, since they’ve managed to make their way to the coast and she knows jester has been missing her mama.

‘oh.’

a large dark eye rolls to looks at beau very quickly before the eagle turns her attention back to the mountain. powerful muscles in the legs and wings bunch and jester-eagle lifts into the air, buffeting pine needles and debris into everyone’s faces as she flies up, circles around where they are. after a moment, they see what the eagle eyes had seen first—the awesome form of a silver dragon emerging from the fog clouds above and winding its way toward them.

caleb drops his form, pulling yasha and fjord aside to clear a large enough space for his circle. the ground is frozen almost solid and they have to work diligently for the few minutes it takes for zoelfir to land a hundred or so feet from them and transform.

the dragon has taken the same form—a short, darker skinned woman with silver hair—and waves cheerfully when they emerge from the treeline. they’re limping slightly; no injury apparent but perhaps exhaustion, perhaps unused to exertion after so long being bound.

‘is this someone you know?’ beau asks when zolly is closer.

‘hmm? this?’ the dragon gestures toward their form. ‘yes, indeed! excellent question, keen mind. yes, she was a friend of mine oh, some years back now.’

‘what’d she do?’

‘do?’ zolly asks, forehead crinkling into many lines.

‘y’know. was she a knight or like a wizard or something?’

‘she made the most exquisite tapestries.’ zolly’s eyes grow distant, taking on a faint sheen as their concentration slips. ‘i had one commissioned but i was...indisposed before i could collect it.’

‘indisposed?’ fjord asks. he wipes a drop of sweat from his forehead, which crackles like ice in the chilly morning.

‘they were locked up,’ beau says. jerks their chin toward the mountain.

zolly grimaces. ‘indeed. well, onto the coast, yes?’

‘take the first portal outta here, hey? drown your sorrows at the sea side.’

‘what is it called now?’ zolly continues, though their eyes drift over to beau. she’d said it as a snide nothing comment, but dragons must have keen hearing because that look certainly says that they heard. ‘i’d dearly love to look at that map again, if i might.’

‘menagerie coast,’ fjord says with a nod, pulling their map case from the bag of holding. ‘nicodranas is—yasha, would you?’

‘oh yah, sure.’

fjord holds the map up flat against yasha’s back, taps his finger against nicodranas. ‘and port domali you asked about, that’s here,’

‘i see, i see, yes,’

‘twelve seconds until completion,’ caleb announces. jester giggles. as though she hadn’t, he continues in a quick, clear monotone. ‘remember to enter the teleportation circle as quickly as possible. all items should be carried on your person. do not run.’

‘why not?’

caleb’s hand, white with chalk, hovers over the final line. he cuts a quick look up to fjord and smiles. ‘you are welcome to try, if you wish,’ he says.

fjord leans sideways, says in a loud whisper, ‘that’s a dare, right?’

‘for sure.’

‘that’s a bad thing, coming from caleb?’

‘for sure.’

‘thought so.’

fjord runs through the circle. when beau emerges, she finds him clutching his face, nose bleeding freely.

‘there’th a wall,’ he tells beau. ‘don’t run.’

//

zoelfir knows yussa, as it turns out. they talk for a night, the mighty nein as yussa’s guest, and later in the night when restlessness strikes her, beau overhears quiet apologies between the regal elf and the dragon. minor explanations but mostly the clinking of tea cups in saucers and the crackling of fire.

beau hesitates between the stairs and the landing, wondering how bad it would be to eavesdrop on these people. but curiosity gnaws at her gut and so she slinks forward to the doorway and presses her back to the wall to listen.

‘—your fault, yusandrin. i never expected you to come looking for me after how we parted,’

‘that? a minor squabble?’

‘then what,’

‘there was a war, zoelfir,’ yussa says, and the voice sounds much older and richer than it ever has with the nein. he sounds like someone who has lived for centuries and not only seen them all unfold but lived in them, truly. ‘there was a war and i called upon you and you didn’t come. now i understand, you had already been trapped but then...’

‘you didn’t come looking for me because i abandoned you first.’

‘you always said it was my ugliest trait,’

‘well, you had to have one, my dear.’

a companionable laugh pulls from yussa, almost reluctantly, or as though he had nearly forgotten how. then,

‘if you don’t come in, little snoop,’ zoelfir says, tone bright and jovial as the glint off silver coins, ‘i shall freeze you where you stand.’

beau’s heart slams in her chest. she considers for a moment retreating up the steps but caught is caught. she steps around the arch, lie on the tip of her tongue—but zoelfir is smiling and yussa just sighs and clicks his fingers and summons a third chair at the fireside.

‘do not tell anyone i know zoelfir,’ is all yussa says. ‘my reputation would never recover.’

‘your reputation would improve and you know it, you bore. beauregard,’ they say, turning that smile on her. ‘couldn’t sleep?’

‘something like that.’

zoelfir casts their attention down to the pack at her side. ‘headed out already?’

beau shifts. sets it down behind the seat. ‘something like that.’

‘mysterious,’ the dragon says, and the small hissing laugh that accompanies their comment isn’t patronising or mocking. just amused.

it sucks. beau wants so badly to hate this dragon, this being who put her mediocrity so clearly into view. but she can’t. they’re fascinating, and effortlessly charming in a way that comes with power and age and a deep and powerful kindness despite what could easily have been centuries of torment.

‘where are you headed?’ yussa asks, floating a cup over to her and looking somewhat impatiently toward his summoned chair.

beau sits. takes the cup. ‘port domali. there’s an archive there and i can see what’s up, or head on to zadash from there maybe. maybe the capital.’

‘no real plans then?’

‘don’t pry, yusandrin.’

‘it’s my business to pry.’ yussa arches a brow. ‘well? i gather from your creeping about my tower in the middle of the night while the rest of your fellows sleep that this is an... unsanctioned journey?’

‘i wouldn’t call it creeping.’

‘yes, let’s focus on the most minor of details, shall we?’ yussa tone doesn’t shift from sharp, cool, but somehow beau knows it’s close to teasing for him. she still allows herself to bristle.

‘i don’t have to tell you shit. we rescued your friend when you couldn’t be assed to check up on them for, what, three hundred fucking years? maybe ask them a few questions before you go poking at me.’

yussa’s lips press flat and white in his bronzed face for a moment, just long enough for beau to think oh shit, and then the moment has passed. yussa turns away from her.

beau watches his eyes. watches him almost start at the glimpse of zoelfir to his right, as though for a split second he thought—feared?—he had made them up. imagined their reunion. yussa’s eyes skate around the round face, linger on the flow of silver hair.

‘you are headed to port domali, are you not?’

zolly smiles. sharp teeth and all. ‘i am. maybe i’ll tag along with the good archivist here,’

‘expositor.’

zoelfir blinks. ‘expositor. how does that sound? yussa can magic us to his nest in that port and we can have a little wander, a little explore, and,’

‘why?’

‘hm?’

‘why would you wanna come with me? is there something in the library you want?’

zoelfir blinks again. dark eyes revert to the dragons natural mercurial silver. ‘my dear, i’m a traveller. i said that the first time we spoke. i want to see everything—it’s all changed, it’s all new again.’ they chuckle. ‘a silver lining.’

‘but why me? you’ll see all kinds of stuff with the others.’

zoelfir shakes their head. ‘you and i aren’t done yet.’

‘done?’

‘i gave the others a boon,’ zoelfir tells her as if she doesn’t know that already, as if it hasn’t been giving her heartburn or the emotional equivalent. to the side, yussa—always so put together, so unshakeable—splutters on his tea. boons? zoelfir ignores him. ‘my debt to them is paid. my debt to you is not.’

‘your...debt?’ beau sets her tea down. lifts a shaking hand to her head, scratches at the shaggy undercut. ‘what?’

‘the boon i owe you. it is unfulfilled.’

‘I—first of all, you don’t owe us shit, of course we were gonna get you out of there, and second—‘ beau hesitates.

‘second?’

‘i—you dont owe me shit,’

‘you already said that.’

‘but—me, i mean. i didn’t help.’

‘nonsense,’ zoelfir waves a hand dismissively. ‘you who found the maps to the sanctum? you who translated the writings in the tomes? who found the door?’

‘i didn’t help you, though,’

‘you are part and party to those who hit a little harder to that fucker,’ zoelfir tells her. ‘and it’s my boon to give, you don’t get to argue about that.’

for all their being probably well over five or six hundred years old, zoelfir sounds about two seconds from adding so there to the end of that announcement.

beau just shakes her head. ‘why didn’t—why not give me a boon then and there?’

‘one didn’t present itself.’ when it’s clear she doesn’t understand—because she doesn’t—zoelfir hums, trying to find the words. ‘the wizard,’

‘caleb.’

‘i could feel his connection with flame intensely. it was both fear and love, shame and desire. the boon showed itself to me easily. the healer,’

‘jester.’

‘was the same. well within my power to give. her love of cold and mischief...’ zoelfir purses their lips as if to whistle and a quick wind escapes them, slightly fogged, and whips through the room. yussa complains as his books and notes ruffle and rustle, shivering on the shelves, but makes no move to stop his friend. ‘the same too with the others. but you,’ zoelfir hums. ‘i don’t know what you want.’

beau doesn’t know whether to believe them or not, so she just sits with it. ‘can i ask for something?’

‘that’s not really how it works.’

‘oh.’

zoelfir smiles. ‘hence, why i wish to travel with you. to understand what would aid you.’

‘maybe some magic fuckin powers so i don’t let down my friends,’ beau mutters.

zoelfir’s eyes turn very cold and shrewd. ‘it is within my power,’ they tell her. ‘would you accept?’

she almost says yes. she almost does, but something in her revolts at the idea of being given something. her whole life she has fought and stolen and scrapped for everything she has and...

‘no,’ zoelfir says, agrees, sitting back in their chair with a nod. ‘you see? a tough nut to crack, you are.’

‘and i do not think these friends of yours would be half so pleased with their lot if you had not been with them, beauregard,’ yussa comments, having recovered from his minor spluttering fit with no apparent damage down to his fine robes. ‘you are remarkably clever. astute. i have been impressed by you.’

beau shrugs. as nice as it is for him to say it, he’s not the one she needs to hear it from. fuck, she’s not sure she needs to hear it from anyone; beau’s whole thing is truth, finding truth, and she knows the truth. she’s a simple magicless human, and her friends need more.

‘how soon can you send me to port domali?’

yussa hesitates. minutely, a fingernail scraping over the curling handle to his cup. ‘as soon as you wish to leave.’

‘now.’

‘now, then,’ yussa agrees, and zoelfir stands with them both. conjures a pack from somewhere and a slight walking stick. similar to beau’s staff but of a silvery wood. birch, maybe?

‘aesthetics,’ zoelfir says, rather delightedly. ‘shall we?’

[feed-the-birdss]

Take Me Away

Thank you so much to @blitheringmcgonagall and @jilystar04 who tagged me in the Motivation Monday yesterday. It really helped me to finish this. Also, a thanks to @petals-to-fish and @flippin-fins who are another two big motivators of mine!!

Author’s Note: I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus due to a mixture of travelling, birthday festivities and health reasons. However, I’ve had this idea for a while now, and I really wanted to share it before I leave for my next big trip. I hope you all enjoy, and it’s loosely based on the song “Cowboy Take Me Away” by the Dixie Chicks.

Read it on Fanfic

The flat was quiet—too quiet. There were pieces of parchment scattered all over the floor accompanied with the occasional ink blot. Opened and half-empty containers were strewn across the countertops and tabletops of the kitchen with labels like “Aconite”, “Ginger”, “Frog Brain”, “Dragon’s Blood” and “Boomslang”. On the stove was a large pewter cauldron with purple steam billowing out of it. And on the window ledge, with an empty wine glass on the floor next to her sat Lily Evans. Her knees were tucked in close to her chest, with an elbow resting on one knee, and her head in her hand.

Her dark and puffy green eyes were wearily following the movements of the grey clouds in the sky searching for even the smallest sign of sunshine. It’s been so cold and rainy lately, thanks to the dementors, that she’s forgotten what the sun looked like. Even it if it were sunny outside, she doubts she would be enjoying it. She’s either in the flat working on potions for the Order, under James’ invisibility cloak running after and spying on likely Death Eaters, or so focused on duelling a Death Eater and escaping death that her surroundings are not even noticeable to her.

Lily misses the earth. When she was little, she was always playing outside. Her mother and sister would often berate her for her constantly dirty dresses. Yet, little Lily would frolic bare-footed in the green grass and dirt without a care in the world. Now she’s lucky if she has the time to take a simple stroll through a park with shoes on.  

Severus and she used to lie under the large Elm tree by her house and make the falling leaves magically race each other to the ground. Lily once begged her mother to let her and Severus camp out there for the night, but Rose Evans wouldn’t even hear of it. She never trusted that “Snape boy”, and while Lily always believed that was Petunia’s influence, her mother’s concerns ended up being spot-on in that regard.

However, camping was sounding pretty great to Lily right about now. She could finally take the chance to just touch the earth and feel it in her hands without worrying about the Death Eater throwing killing curses at her every second. She could frolic among the wild and unruly plants like she used to when she was a little girl. The corners of her lips started to quirk up at the thought.

Right at that moment, the unmistakable sound of someone apparating outside the door met Lily’s ears which was proceeded by her and James’ secret knock. Lily went up to the door and asked through it, “Who is Luke Skywalker’s father?”

“Darth Vader,” asserted James.

Lily undid the lock and opened the door to find James pointing his wand at her with a teasing smirk on his face. He never could take this security measure seriously. “Who was your best shag?” he asked confidently.

“Sirius, obviously,” Lily responded with a smirk that echoed the one that quickly vanished from his face at her response.

“Not funny Evans,” he pouted.

“Well you know what Dumbledore said last meeting, the Death Eaters have Sev—uhh—well,  their own Potions Master, and we should be prepared for the possibility that they’re making Polyjuice Potion,” she sighed, turned around and headed to the kitchen to check on her potion.

James was going to continue whinging about her cruel joke, but once she brought up her ex-best friend’s current activities, he thought better of it and followed her into the kitchen. “Fine, I’ll ask a better question. When was our best shag?” He asked with the smirk back on his face as he walked up to Lily, whose head was bent over the cauldron, and put his arms around her waist.

Lily rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up on her face, “You’re such a prat,” she said as she turned around in his arms, put her arms up to his neck, and reached her face to kiss his. James greedily returned the kiss, pulling her even closer against him and lifting up her shirt a little so that his hands were touching the soft skin of her waist. Lily’s hands moved from the nape of his neck into his messy black hair as she sucked on his bottom lip.

Just as James’ hands were about travel South in order to pick her up and carry her to their bed, a gentle tapping noise interrupted them. Both of them turned their heads toward the noise to see Sirius’ owl, Owl, at the window with a slip of parchment attached to its claw. Lily detached from James, and as she walked over to the window she said, “And our best shag was that time a few months ago on Remus’ bed.”

“Too right, it was,” James smiled and sighed, “And yet, Remus couldn’t find it in him to be happy for us.”

“Well love, to be fair, I mean, you still give Sirius shit for shagging uh…whats-her-name, on your bed in sixth year.”

“Yeah, well, this was me and you, a couple Remus loves and knows dearly. Sirius fucked a stranger he hasn’t spoken to since. There’s a difference.”

Lily rolled her eyes, an occurrence that happens quite a lot whenever she’s around James, as she opened the window and untied the scroll from the Owl’s leg.

James—me and Remus are going to Hog’s Head for drinks with a few other members tonight, are you and Lily in? (Peter’s a no-show…again…bloody rat)

Lily quickly read the note and handed it over to James with a sigh. She loved everyone in the order dearly, she honestly didn’t know what she would do without them in this mess of a war, but she needed something different right now. Going to the Hog’s Head for drinks was the only fun thing order members could do together without drawing attention to themselves and blowing their cover; so they do it quite often.

“Do you want to go Lils?” asked James.

Just as Lily was about to, begrudgingly, say yes, she remembered something, and her eyes glimmered with excitement as she looked at James, “James, I’m going to go camping,” she stated.

“Okay….so…uh…wait, is that a ‘no’ to the drinks then?” baffled James with furrowed brows.

“Yes.”

“So…’yes’ to the drinks?” he puzzled again.

Lily rolled her eyes, “For someone who got seven NEWTs, you’re awfully dense sometimes. It’s a ‘no’ to the drinks, because tonight, we’re packing up and getting ready to go camping tomorrow morning.”

James’ brows were still furrowed in confusion, and his mouth kept opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. To Lily’s relief, he finally uttered something, “Can you just repeat that please, and maybe offer me some, like, well, much-needed context?”

“Uh..right, that’s probably a good idea. So, again, no to drinks because we are going to camping tomorrow morning. Why are we going camping—well, because I need this James. I need this.” James’ look softened at the desperation in her voice, “I have been going mad lately. I feel like my whole world has just become running into battles, hiding from Death Eaters and potions. I want to experience the earth again.”

“You want to experience the earth again?” James asked with a teasing smirk.

“Fuck yes. Make fun of it all you want. I know it sounds cheesy, but I know you know what I mean James Potter. Like…don’t you miss the earth? We’re in bloody London all the damned time. I mean…you haven’t gone out with Remus and the boys for a full moon in months. You can’t not tell me you’re not going a little mad here,” Lily ranted. “I want to just walk through a forest, where there’s no building in site, only trees and grass, and leaves. I want it to just be me for miles and miles.”

“What about me?”

Lily smiled and put her arms around his waist, “I guess I want you there too. Merlin knows I don’t really want to experience this earth again without your smile there with it,” she assured pressing a light kiss to his lips.

“What about the cold?”

“The stars will be our blanket,” teased Lily

“Uh…what?”

“James, are you a wizard or not? We can handle the actual camping parts of this magically.”

“Right,” nodded James in agreement. Yet something in the stiffness of his body, and the slight furrow left in his brows told Lily he was still hesitant. Come to think of it, James has been acting kind of shady like this for the past few weeks.

“Do you not want to?”

“No, it’s not that at all. I think I need this just as much as you,” he assured, “it’s just that, I mean, well we had those special dinner plans for tomorrow night.”

“We can cook ourselves a nice dinner tomorrow night love.”

James sighed, and nodded slowly, “That’s true I guess.”

“Don’t you want to go flying love? I want to ride your broom. I haven’t done it in so long.”

James smirked, “I want you to ride my broom too Evans.”

Lily ignored the obvious innuendo in his statement, and said “Great, let’s get packing then.”

“Um, right okay, I’ll go cancel those reservations and the…uh some other stuff, and I’ll let Dumbledore and the order know we’re going to take the next few days off.”

The next night, after a day of frolicking in the grass, walking and not running, and flying in a clear blue sky without a building in sight, Lily was snuggled within the comfort of James’ arms under a blanket of stars. The sound of their laughter played in harmony with the chirping crickets and the rustling of the leaves as the wind breezed through them. She and James always manage to have fun together, but this was different. They could have fun without worrying for right now. Even after their day on his broom, she hasn’t felt this free since she found out she was a witch, and she’s never felt closer to James than she had on this day.

After bickering and laughing about whether or not the dog star was named as such because it’s twinkle was kind of shaped like a dog, Lily turned her head towards his and asked, “So are you finally ready to tell me why you’ve been acting shady the past few weeks?”

James chuckled and sighed happily, “You know what…yeah, I actually am.” He turned his head to meet her eyes, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” smiled Lily moving her head in for a kiss, but James used the arm she was lying on to lift a very confused Lily up on to her feet instead.

Once they stood face to face, stars still twinkling above them, surrounded by only trees, grass, flowers and wildlife, James’ hands lightly against Lily’s waist, did James say, “I originally wanted to do this after that dinner we were supposed to have tonight at this fancy muggle restaurant in London, where after I was going to take you to Hog’s Head with all of our friends waiting there.” Lily was starting to see where this was going, and her eyes widened. “Once we got there, Sirius was going to start playing that muggle love song you love so much by that Elvin guy on that mini guitar thing I begged him to learn how to play,” her widened eyes softened with her chuckle and started to glisten with tears, “then I was going to get down on one knee,” James got down on one knee, “pull out my grandmother’s ring,” James pulled out his grandmother’s ring, “and say this: ‘This war is the worst thing that has ever happened to the wizarding world, and yet, you still manage to keep me smiling. Do me the honor of making me smile for the rest of my life, and let me do the same for you. Lily Evans, will you marry me?’”

Just as Lily was about to respond, James snapped the box shut, got up and said with a smirk, “It’s too bad you wanted to go camping instead.”

Lily’s mouth opened in shock, “James!” she exasperated punching him in the arm.

James laughed, “I’m kidding Lils! Only kidding! This place is a way better spot for a proposal…how’d you put it again? Blanket of stars? Now that’s just pure poetry. So this is really the best possible place for you to agree to put up with my shit forever,” he teased, “so what do you say Evans?” he asked opening the ring box once again, “Will you continue to put up with my shit for all eternity?”

Lily rolled her eyes, “Sounds good to me,” she said with a smile as she jumped into his arms and proceeded to kiss him.

[jadeender]

The Fortress of Darkness and Light Part 1

The next morning the heroes awoke and prepared for the final battle, Legend assured them they could reach Veran’s fortress before the day was over and they revealed in the idea that in only a matter of hours they would be free. Free from the influence of the darks and finally back to their own selves. 

With all their weapons and armor at the ready, magical tools on hand the ten of them set out from Legend’s house. The purple rabbit man, Ravio, had insisted on following them, claiming to worry about Legend’s safety. 

Sighing Sky walked alongside his friends, he should have felt happy to almost be rid of Stygian, but he didn’t. If he was honest he hadn’t felt much at all recently. Stygian kept quiet most of the time which was almost worse than talking constantly. 

The day passed in a haze, everyone was on edge legend and Ravio led the group reassuring every once and awhile they were getting close. Despite being “good friends” Sky never really saw Ravio and Legend act like it. Both of them kept their attention on other things and rarely spoke to each other while they were traveling. 

Sky just wanted it all to be done, he wanted to rest. It had been so long since he’d had a refreshing deep sleep, since he dreamed instead of having cryptid nightmares that only filled him anxiety and stress.

Just after their noon time lunch break Legend turned to address them, his skin had become more ashen recently and the green highlights in his hair more pronounced. 

“In just about ten minutes of walking Veran’s fortress should be in sight. Once we get in we just have to make it to the top and take her out. The usual stuff. I don’t know what kind of traps she’ll have set up so be ready for anything.” With the Legend turned around and lead them on.

Surely enough very soon the fortress appeared in their vision, it appeared like a twisted imitation of Hyrule castle. Colored all dark great a shadow was cast over the land, as they continued on the draw bridge opened and Veran’s voice drifted out over the wind,

“Heroes of light, creatures of dark, and those in between. You seek to be free yet first you must pass through my fortress, trials of dark and trials of light await you. Only if you embrace both will you succeed.” 

As Veran’s voice faded so did the light around them and the heroes slipped into unconsciousness. 

____________________________________________________________________________

When Sky awoke again it was like his head was full of dense clouds that made his thoughts fuzzy and slow. Looking around he saw only Legend, Four, Wild, and Twilight. The others were gone. A quick survey showed they were in a small room with a corridor leading outward. 

“She split us up.” Legend observed looking at his friends before registering, “Wait where’s Ravio?”

“He’s probably with the others.” Twi comforted as Sky moved to sitting still trying to clear his head, all their words felt muffled and distant. 

“That means he’s alone with Eternal, and Conqueror, and Callous.” Legend’s breath speed up slightly, looking on the edge of panic. “We need to find them.”

Four grabbed Legend’s hand and signed something Sky couldn’t see. As Twilight continued, “No, that means he’s there with Time, and Warriors and Hyrule. They wouldn’t let the darks hurt him.”

Legend mumbled something Sky couldn’t hear, his ears finally beginning to clear he heard Wild speak up. “We need to get moving, I’m sure we’ll meet up with others if we just go through. 

The others nodded and gathered their things. Sky stood noticing his second sword had slipped out of its scabbard, the sword he loathed to use but found himself carrying most often. Fi still wouldn't respond, not so much as a word or even a feeling in months, it was almost easier to use the demon sword rather than have to deal with that silence.

Sighing lightly he put his swords back in their scabbard as the ghostly image of his old enemy appeared by him, not that the others could see.

"Finally we made it to the stupid palace, I can't wait to be free of this stupid light." Griahim complained as he often did. 

Sky just ignored the sword spirit as he started to follow the others. Ghirahim continued to complain as they went, complaining that he hadn't taken care of the blade or complaining about the temple and it's garish design.

As they ended the hall it opened into a wide room with black and white tiles if the floor, as Wild who was in the lead stepped in the first tile it made a sound like a note played on the piano. 

“What the…?” Wild started.

Veran’s melodious voice floated over them once again “Each of you must play along to the song of the tiles, for if you dont death will befall on these trials.”

The five looked at each other, before Sky spoke up. “I think we need to play music, as we walk across.”

From his bag Sky drew his Zelda’s harp, the small golden harp reminded him of her. A heavy weight settled in his heart as somewhere in the pits of their soul he felt Stygain’s repulse for her. Sky still loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone before, but using her harp felt wrong in his hands.

Trying to push that feeling of disgust away he strummed the harp lightly its golden tones still melodious as they always had been. Four and Legend turned to their bags and dug through them, Four producing a simple ocarina and Legend producing a harp, quite different from Zelda’s. Legend’s harp was pink and blue in a circle, with golden features. As he strummed it the others could feel the power that came from it, this was not just an instrument.

Wild and Twilight just kind of stood there awkwardly and Four turned to them signing “You music play?”

“Well um I do have one thing I could try, I’m not very good with it.” With a few taps of the Sheikah slate wild pulled out an accordion. He squeezed the instrument a few times tapping the keys on the side in a familiar melody though Sky couldn’t recall its name. Legend nodded and they turned back to Twilight who shifted nervously.

“Do you not play any instrument?” Legend questioned. “I've got a spare few in my bag….”

“I um, I usually howl.” Twilight muttered. The others attention snapped back to him. 

“You what?” Legend laughed.

“I howl, I can whistle too but not without a piece of grass.” Twi said his face becoming more assured. 

“It’ll be fine Twilight.” Wild said looking at the others, he shifted his accordion and turned back around to face the room.

Sky watched as Twilight shifted into his wolf form and let out a howl, deep and full. The others played their instruments along with it, the sounds of their odd five piece band mingling together.

Sky strummed the harp as they made their way through the room, each new tile would make a note and they would respond by playing the same or accompanying ones, as they hurried over the floor it grew into a song of sorts each note helping to create the symphony. As Sky played the feeling of the harp in his hands made him warm, glad that he had this piece of her with him.

As they reached the final tile of them room it sounded with a deep tone like that of a church bell striking, though they tried to recreate it only Twilight’s howls came anywhere close to it. Though he should have felt panicked Sky didn’t, he felt calm, calmer than he had in awhile but Zelda’s harp always had that effect on him. Instead Sky just briskly walked forward off the tile into the safety of the hallway as the tile began to crack and shake. The others quickly followed running and in some cases jumping off to make it into the hallway. 

After putting away their instruments the other turned to Sky.

“How did you know that would work?” Twilight questioned. “There could have been some other trap or trick.” 

Sky simply shrugged, “It was the last tile, it was the simplest path.”

After a few more odd glances the others continued on ward as they started through the maze of Veran’s castle, they honestly did more getting lost than they did solving puzzles or setting off traps.

But as they continued Sky kept thinking about that puzzle, about the song they played, once he put it together it seemed familiar, like something Zelda would have played for him when they were younger. An image of her playing the harp, her hands moving lightly over is strings, golden hair gleaming in the sun appeared in his mind conjuring up a small smile on his face.

Could have this witch designed the puzzle, for him? To remind him of his Zelda? Sky’s thoughts wondered at the possibility, but why would she have done that? As he followed that line of reasoning Sky thoughts turned, she was using Zelda’s song to mock him. To use something he loved against him.

The dark part of his mind, the voice and emotions he’d come to associate with Stygian spoke. “You let your pathetic obsession with her make you a fool, even before this witch stepped in.”

“Its not an obsession, I love her.” He defended yet the voice rose again.

“And that makes you all the weaker, thinking yourself worthy of a goddess.” 

Sky’s heart fell as he considered the words, was he really worthy of her and her affection? He spent his entire life learning how to fight to protect her, to be a knight for their home. But for what? For a woman that would never be able to be with him even though they had been reincarnated so many times together. 

The harp now hidden in his pack seemed to grow heavy at his thoughts and he felt a growing repulsion to the instrument. All of that, just to solve a stupid puzzle?

[wherespaulo]

Hiking the Francigena Way from Siena to Rome

March 3-12, 2019

“You will find where Odysseus wandered when you find the cobbler who stitched the bag of the winds”

Homer

I'd again been hankering for some sort of expedition to get me away from New York City's urban sprawl. Something that might fit into the St Johns University Spring break where I teach organic chemistry and which would hopefully provide some badly needed sunshine. So in early March, 2019, when I hoped the Tuscan hills would be warming up nicely, I planned to hike the last 180 miles of the Via Francigena from Siena to Rome over ten days – this is an old pilgrims route which officially starts in Canterbury and includes walking-on-water over the English Channel. I would, of course, travel alone, and Camino Ways would ferry my luggage from one small hotel/B&B to the next, so I only had my day pack to carry. I've done the 'carrying everything' and 'pitching a tent in the pouring rain and dark' already – now I could afford to just do a physically challenging hike where I could travel light and have wine, pasta and a warm bed at the end of it. To find my way I would use a combination of way markers and maps (old school and electronic) but did secretly look forward to an occasional wrong turn...

I didn't expect to find God since I've never been of the religious persuasion, probably for a number of reasons. Growing up in an English working-class coal mining area the only religions were hard graft and soccer, accompanied by copious quantities of beer and tobacco. Moral codes, such as treating everyone how you would like to be treated and respecting your elders, were deeply ingrained into your psyche through strong role models. And although religious education was compulsory in my comprehensive school, the books illustrating God as a big beardy bloke in a white robe, lounging on a cloud while overseeing his parishioners, and usually with some extra creative graffiti added by a bored student, never really did it for me. And then later in life, after I trained as a scientist, I always struggled with the idea of believing in an omnipotent supernatural being that I couldn't see. Don't get me wrong. I would never be so narrow minded to assume in this vast universe that just because I can’t see something or explain it by science it doesn’t exist. And I've always respected people's belief or not in any kind of God and understand that for many people the community of the church is just as important as the belief. Also, growing up amongst a family of builders, I have an appreciation for beautiful architecture which has been inspired by bygone believers – and this is usually some of the best, so I was looking forward to admiring some of it.

When I'm hiking by myself my mind tends to wander way more than the geographical journey -- I believe my traveling is just a reflection of my mental wanderings. As I strode out easily over the gently rolling Tuscan hills into dazzling Spring sunshine under azure blue skies, through the neat rows of olive and hazelnut groves and vineyards, I considered the inanimate clouds of dust rising from beneath my feet and struggled with a conundrum. How is it that the very same atoms could simply be rearranged to provide a living, breathing, reproducing organism with a life force? Where does this life force come from? Is there something else at work here.

These were all thoughts running through my mind as I started a short climb to the beautiful historic hill fort of Vignoni with its narrow medieval alleyways set within castle walls. 

I surveyed the rolling Tuscan landscape from my elevated position. Medieval hilltop villages like Bagno Vignoni and Radicofani rose from the distant valley like gigantic way markers for the wayward pilgrim, while the neat rows of Italian cypress and umbrella pines lining every vineyard track seemed to be tempting me with diversions.

Having already considered the very nature of life my mind now wandered further to contemplate life’s journey and its many meanderings. At some point in life most of us become lost. Don't we? And as with Odysseus we strive to find a new way home. Wherever or whatever that may be. Life seems to follow a simple route for some. For others we have an occasional unforeseen diversion. Maybe a mid-life crisis where we suddenly realize we're not where we expected to be, no longer recognizing our immediate surroundings. I think that's what happened to my ex-wife – she became lost and didn’t recognize me anymore. Yet others seem forever lost. Some people don't seem to mind being lost. Others do. Some don’t even know they’re lost.

It was shortly after leaving the most beautiful medieval lakeside town of Bolsena that I became lost – did I miss the sign? I wandered back about half a mile to the last way marker I'd seen and wandered back and forth for quite a while, but alas...

     Until 2005 my own life seemed to have been following a well-trod path --             good job with wife and two kids in the English burbs. Then there was an               unexpected detour after missing the signs – a divorce had altered my                   expected route and directed me across the ocean to New York City.                     Although, as with Odysseus, the four winds had now been loosed, an                   interesting job and good social life had tethered me like a kite for nine years.       But that tether was severed in late 2015 when my job was eliminated, and I         saw this as an opportunity to blow to the four corners of the earth. But, as           with Odysseus, I recently seem to have become lost and home seems to be       just an idea.

My favorite much-used advice to my young sons when they thought they'd lost something was “seek and ye shall find”. Of course, they'd always assumed that it was lost as soon as it was out of their sight – they hadn't yet learned that you have to realize you’ve lost something, or realize you’re lost, before you can find something or find your way. And they always did find it after listening to my advice. Always. They are both well along their own journeys now – good jobs in computer science and living with their girlfriends in London and Lyon. And just like they’d done many times while growing up, I did eventually find that way marker post after I’d searched for it -- it had been knocked over and hidden in the grass.

I entered a dense woodland where Spring was already in the air. Colorful European jays, the creepy cackle of the green woodpecker and the sharp floral smell and beautiful white blossom of the hawthorn bush all caught my attention and brought me into the moment. I considered how my mind is temporarily anchored in times like these, when it's not timebound and craving for something from the past or future. Is that why people who consistently live for the day don't tend to feel lost? Erkhardt Tolle writes about this while Siddhartha was the ultimate practitioner.

I walked the last few miles into Rome with a fellow 'pilgrim'. Beatrice was a tall, windblown and sunburned 40 something from the Spanish Basque region and we’d met after she’d appeared from behind a derelict barn while pulling her pants up. She wore a red beret tilted at an angle and smoked like a chimney while carrying a very large full pack, of I'd guess 35 pounds or more. She informed me in broken English, while prodding my chest intensely, that she'd left Madrid at the beginning of November and had walked to Rome via Santiago de Compostela, through the Winter. I felt humbled. After further questioning it seemed she'd been walking almost non-stop for a few years now – with that full pack and while sleeping in a tent. It's a pity I didn't have more time to hear her story as she seemed to have a purpose about her. Maybe she was also on an Odysseun journey to find her way home.

Our first sight of Rome was from the elevated Monte Mario Park – I could make out all the main sights that I’d visited back in 2010 on my way to a business meeting in Ascoli, just east of Rome. The colosseum, the Pantheon, the Alter of the Fatherland. And I considered my lifetime diversions since then - leaving the corporate world to travel, write and teach. But I hadn’t had time to visit the Vatican then and since that was the official end of the Via Francigena pilgrims’ route, this was going to be first on my list.

As I entered St Peters Basilica all my previous experiences of admiring ecclesiastical architecture – the enormous cathedrals of Chartres, Notre Dame, Canterbury, Seville, Gaudi’s La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem – quickly paled into insignificance. St Peters was so much grander and opulent than anything I'd seen before and set a whole new bar. Building had started around 1500 under the power-hungry Pope Julius – it hadn’t surprised me that after demolishing the original 1500-year-old St Peters Basilica it had taken another 120 years to complete this one. And it was just the same as the Louvre’s art paled into insignificance against the enormous Michelangelo and Raphael frescos of the Sistine Chapel.

As I considered the enormity of it all I thought about the many pilgrims over the years who’d viewed Rome with the very same awe after their tiring journey from Canterbury -- and how they too, like Odysseus, had to get lost before they could find their way home.

[id-antonettereyes]

Greater Heights: Climbing Mount Kinabalu, The Roof of Malay Archipelago

Standing at Low’s Peak, Mount Kinabalu (Gunung Kinabalu), the most dramatic feature in Sabah and the tallest peak between the Himalayas & New Guinea.

Traveling to Borneo for a month obviously gave me the idea of climbing Mt. Kinabalu but due to logistical hindrances, I wasn’t sure that it would be possible. But as I saw the mountain from the plane, I was like, “I want to be there, I need to be there.” 

Judging from the photos I saw online, it seems like Mt. Kinabalu would be a different experience for me compared to other mountains I’ve climbed before. Also, I haven’t had any experience being in an altitude more than 3,000 meters. 

When I did my research, I found out that Sabah Parks only issue 185 climb permits per day so one has to book early to avoid disappointment. I’m glad that even with my late inquiry, at June 1, I was able to get a slot from River Junkie, a local travel agency who efficiently made all the arrangements for the entire Gunung Kinabalu trip. 

DAY 1

River Junkie’s van picked me up at Jesselton Residences at 6:45AM, we started the two-hour ride going to Kinabalu National Park.  

After checking our passports, completing registration, and picking up our packed lunch, we had a short ride to Timpohon Gate which is the starting and ending points for all climbers at 1,866masl. We started the 6-kilometer initial trek at 9:30 AM.

The trail is well defined and maintained and the assault consists of endless rough, uneven, staircase climbing. 

At Layang Layang Shelter (at 2,702masl), many hikers will notice the effects of the decreased air pressure. Rapid heart rate and shortness of breath are signs of trekking in thin air. 

Some of the hikers who accompanied me decided to go down due to altitude sickness before reaching the base camp.

After six-kilometer assault through lowland rain forest to montane forest, and then cloud forest, I reached the Panalaban Base Kamp at 2:40PM in a sub-alpine meadow terrain. 

There are several dormitory buildings in the area with hot showers, toilets, cooked food and basic sharing rooms with bunk beds. 

I stayed at Pendant Hut where Via Ferrata climbers have their seminar; while the others from our tour group stayed in Laban Rata. 

Knowing that we were expected to get up by 2AM, I tried my best to sleep right after the dinner but because of altitude insomnia, I was still up at 12:30AM and gave up on any idea of getting a good night’s sleep.

DAY 2

For the second part of this climb, we started our hike to summit at 2:45AM. It was raining as we started up endless flights of steps with some ladders and ropes. The organizers told us that we’d hike for an hour and attain a higher elevation to see if the rain might clear. They told us that if the rain continued, they would require us to turn back because attempting the summit in a storm was not safe. Needless to say, we were quite anxious about the possibility of continuing rain, as there was no possibility of refund of the tour fees even if we had to turn back because of weather.

Above Laban Rata the vegetation disappears. The next stage of the climb is an open trail over a massive bare granite slab. Fortunately the rain stopped and was replaced by dense fog. As we ascended the granite, it became very cold with a strong wind on our way up to the summit. The fog obstructed visibility even with my head torch on.

The final ascent was 100 meters of scrambling over loose rocks and large boulders before reaching Low's Peak. 

At 4:45am, after the 8.5 kilometre (5.25 miles) trek to the top, I was finally at the majestic 4,095m (13,435 feet above sea level) summit of Mount Kinabalu, the highest mountain between the Himalayas and New Guinea. Unfortunately, it was still night!

I reached the summit an hour earlier than the recommended time because of my fast pace. 

As a result, I waited shivering in the cold for the sunrise. I only had a few moments to savor the sunrise on the summit since I had to arrive at the Low’s Peak Circuit’s meeting point before 6:30AM.

The stunning scenery along the summit trail from Low’s Peak.

Through the Mountain Torq organization, I got to experience the world’s highest via ferrata at 3,776 meters above sea level. 

“Via ferrata” is a term little known outside of the European Alps. It means “iron path” in Italian and describes an engineered route of steel cables and iron rungs and sometimes ladders and bridges that provide access to dangerous routes with increased safety. I started the LPC at 6:45AM and finished the 1.1kilometer via ferrata LPC route in two hours, at 8:50AM.

The end-point of Low’s Peak Circuit is Walk the Torq, so technically, I experienced both trail of via ferrata! To me, it was a vertical playground. The experience of crossing the mountain via ferrata will definitely provide memories for years to come. 

I don’t have a great fear of heights so I found the LPC to be exciting. Others might experience it as nerve-wrecking or frightening as the steel cable crosses sheer cliffs with thousand meter plunges to the valley below.

After traverse-descent from the summit via ferrata, II still had 700 meters to go before reaching the Pendant Hunt to get my well-deserved breakfast. 

I checked-out at Pendant Hut at 11:00 AM and reached Timpohon Gate at 1:30. That concludes my Mt. Kinabalu journey! I will post a separate blog about Via Ferrata Low’s Peak Circuit soon.

The entire trip, from 6-km steep assault from Timpohon Gate to sumptuous dinner and cozy accommodation at Panalaban Base Camp, reaching Low’s Peak and the descent from the summit is simply breathtaking. The barren rock formations on a clear day above the clouds is magical. Defying gravity Via Ferrata Low’s Peak Circuit is indeed the highlight! and I’m glad I did it. Maraming salamat, Gunung Kinabalu! 

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/travel/going-to-the-swedish-woods-to-live-an-instagram-fairy-tale/

Going to the Swedish Woods to Live an Instagram Fairy Tale

The story of Stedsans in the Woods, as told on Instagram, reads like a modern-day fairy tale: a rural retreat deep in the forest of southern Sweden where the sun is always setting over a lake, campfire gatherings glow nightly, and every meal is a nourishing Nordic feast of food foraged and farm-raised. The wholesome appeal of this remote utopia among pines and old-growth oaks beckons through even the smallest of digital screens. But is social media enough to convince anyone to drive hours for a night in the woods?

Apparently so.

Before opening in the summer of 2017, Stedsans in the Woods was a pie-in-the-sky project dreamed up by Mette Helbak and Flemming Hansen. In 2016, the Danish couple closed their Copenhagen restaurant, Stedsans OsterGRO, and uprooted their family from the Danish capital to plant new roots in Sweden. The destination: 17 wooded acres next to Lake Halla, about three hours north of Copenhagen. The nearest town of even modest size is more than 25 miles away.

“Stedsans has always been a communication project,” said Ms. Helbak, a cook, stylist and cookbook author, who explained that the name, in Danish, which means “a sense of location, a sense of where you are,” conveys the importance of place in the couple’s philosophy.

To fund this dreamy forest retreat, a Kickstarter campaign raised more than one million Swedish kronor (or around $107,000). Before long, hundreds of supporters were offering to volunteer.

“When it was craziest, we actually had people from every single continent except for Antarctica working here at the same time,” said Mr. Hansen. “People from Venezuela, Chile, the U.S., Canada, Mali, Iran, different places in Europe, Taiwan, New Zealand and Australia.”

Today the property has evolved into a rambling nature retreat with Bedouin tents and minimalist wooden cabins, as well as a restaurant powered solely by fire and supplied mainly by what’s found in the woods and grown in the gardens.

“In the forest, it’s amazing to see how you have food around without having to do anything at all,” Ms. Helbak said.

The staff is a multinational coterie of volunteers, interns and young idealists who farm, forage, cook, serve and construct most of the resort each season, and the atmosphere hovers somewhere between summer camp and commune. Many of the workers view shoes as an unnecessary encumbrance, and guests are encouraged to follow suit; signs posted outside the cabins read, “Walking barefoot reduces stress and boosts immunity” (an unverified claim). And what’s lacking at Stedsans — namely electricity and running water — is considered part of the appeal. This is a place to disconnect from the larger world and reconnect with nature. (When she calls, there are outdoor compost toilets.)

Both Ms. Helbak and Mr. Hansen are quick to admit that life in the woods is never as tidy as social media suggests. There was the first summer when, Ms. Helbak said, “we were up to our knees in mud,” and warned guests to bring rubber boots. And last summer, Ms. Helbak moved off the property to a nearby village, a difficult decision precipitated in part by the imminent arrival of the couple’s third daughter.

Like many guests, the first interaction that I had with Stedsans was on Instagram. I had admired the wooden A-frame sauna floating on the lake. I had scrolled past colorful flower-dusted salads served in the rustic restaurant. I had clicked on images of the cozy, carefully styled cabins.

What Instagram didn’t show me were the bugs. Fat flies swarming over the breakfast table, clouds of gnats at dusk, creeping spiders, buzzing mosquitoes and ferocious little black biting flies that Swedes call knott. But let me assure you, they’re there.

On two separate occasions last summer, I journeyed from my apartment in Stockholm to Stedsans in the Woods via Copenhagen — admittedly, not the most direct route — driving hours through southern Sweden to the forest retreat. On my second visit, a Saturday in late June, my husband steered our rental car down a long, gravel road lined with birch trees. At the end of the road, a hand-painted sign indicated that we’d reached our destination. It was the beginning of a heat wave that would scorch Sweden all summer, but the surrounding fields and forests were still mostly green.

The reception at Stedsans was a paper-strewn table inside a cavernous old barn where a tanned young staffer with bare feet and a clipboard handed out cabin assignments, as at summer camp. She directed us to the Lake Trail.

The trail was an immediate immersion into the forest, winding through dense underbrush and across wooden planks — a perilous obstacle course for any guest who over packs. After about 10 minutes crunching twigs and dodging branches, we caught sight of the lake peeking through the trees. Another sign in loopy script pointed the way to the cabins, sauna, outdoor showers and restaurant.

Cabin No. 2 was similar to the others: a simple, fir-wood hut with a steep sloping roof, sheepskins on the floor, a comfortable bed piled with blankets, and floor-to-ceiling windows facing the forest. There were candles, basic side tables, two organic cotton towels and little else in the snug space. But what more does one need? After dropping our backpacks and applying bug spray (it was not my first visit), we strolled to the blackened-timber boathouse by the lake where the other guests had begun to gather.

Bottles of sparkling cider were uncorked on a bench — a self-service cocktail hour — accompanied by bites from the garden: curls of parsnip, crisp cucumber and crumbles of salty cheese from a small dairy in the nearby town of Falkenberg.

While others took fishing rods out in a canoe and fired up the floating sauna, my husband and I pushed out a rowboat for a lazy loop on the lake. Soon it was time for dinner.

As daylight began to fade, dinner was served in the forest restaurant, a large glass-walled tent that seated 30-odd guests around three long communal tables. The six-course meal was determined by what grows on the property, which operates on the farming philosophy known as permaculture.

“It’s growing vegetables together with nature, and taking care of nature somehow while you’re doing it,” explained Henno Matzen, a dreadlocked Danish gardener and cook whose bare feet bore evidence of his dedication to the job.

“We’re so close to nature, there’s an abundance of things you can find and use,” he said. Those things include berries, apples, mushrooms and wild herbs such as horsetail and sorrel.

As guests began to congregate in a clearing beneath old sails strung from the treetops, Mr. Hansen poured aperitifs and introduced himself to the crowd, which that evening was all couples, a mix of younger and middle-aged pairs, almost all from Denmark. A few cooks scampered among the open-air kitchen, fire pits and a crackling grill suspended from a tree. And when the final stragglers had glasses in hand, our host launched into an impassioned welcome speech-cum-manifesto.

At a time when every new restaurant is expected to have a concept, Stedsans instead has a cause. More than simply a restaurant, or a nature resort, this place in the wilderness is “a political project,” said Mr. Hansen, an attempt to change the world by example in some small way. The meal we would eat that night would produce no waste. Leftover food would be fed to the chickens, and since no chemicals are used, the water for washing would be reused in the gardens. The implicit goal is to prove the Stedsans hypothesis: that all-natural food grown nearby is not only nourishing, it also tastes better.

“It’s an Italian approach to food through a Nordic filter,” said Mr. Hansen of the low-interference preparations. Consider it laissez-faire cooking.

Once we found seats on sheepskin-draped benches, the dinner that followed was a communal feast orchestrated to draw guests together. Large platters were passed back and forth family-style, plates of grilled spring onions and fried nettles, soft-boiled eggs from the chicken coop, pike perch baked in embers, tender greens and new potatoes pulled from the garden just hours earlier. Pairings of natural, biodynamic wines from Europe accompanied the increasingly convivial meal.

“Free food is our favorite food,” Mr. Hansen bellowed, bearing a platter piled with foraged herbs. Whatever isn’t available on the property, like fish and dairy, the kitchen sources from suppliers in the area. The evening’s flaky white fish had been caught a few miles away.

The final two courses — cheese from the nearby dairy and a dessert of rhubarb, cream and elderflower blossoms — were served outside around a campfire ringed with rough-hewed benches and wood-stump stools. Many of the Danes had become fast friends, laughing together in the twilight, balancing dessert plates on their knees and eagerly raising their glasses for refills of sweet orange wine. Soon Mr. Hansen slipped away, the staff retreated to a far corner of the forest, and my husband and I stumbled through the darkness aided only by an iPhone flashlight to find the way back to our cabin.

The following morning, the forest was serene with only the sound of twittering birds and rustling leaves. There was a slight chill in the air as we walked to breakfast at the barn where we’d checked in the afternoon before. Inside, a buffet was arranged on a long wooden table: loaves of Danish rye studded with raisins and apricots, an array of cheeses and yogurt, homemade granola and a warm pot of sprouted porridge. Over a small campfire outside, a worker fried eggs on cast-iron skillets, a slow task as flames lagged in the morning breeze.

While we waited, I scrolled through the few photos I’d taken the previous day, none of which compared to the magazine-ready images in the Stedsans feed. But I did find one shot that I eventually shared on Instagram. How could I not? The following week, friends kept mentioning that picture, asking about that gorgeous place with the floating sauna in the lake. Every time, without fail, I said that it was Stedsans in the Woods, and that it was magical. I always forgot to mention the bugs.

If you go

Stedsans in the Woods (Bohult 109, Hyltebruk, Sweden; stedsans.org) is about two hours by car from Gothenburg or Malmo in Sweden, and less than three hours from Copenhagen. The retreat is open May through October, with accommodations ranging from a campsite to private cabins. In 2019, a one-night package for two in a private cabin includes snacks, a six-course dinner with wine pairings, and breakfast for 750 euros.

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[pcttrailsidereader]

The Best of the PCT Continues

The countdown continues with Rees’ Numbers 8 and 7.  See Howard’s in yesterday’s post.

By Rees Hughes

NUMBER 8.  THE MAGICAL EVENING AT DRAKESBAD, July 9, 2010

 There are certain magical days on the Pacific Crest Trail that stand tall; days that rise above that broad forest of glorious days.   These are the days that your memory immediately races to when you reflect on your life on the trail.  There was the day we guessed our way around snow-covered Mt. Adams ending on a ridge with a commanding view of Mt. Rainier and a solstice sunset; the day we swam our way down Falls Creek marveling at the granite walls above Grace Meadows only to while away an afternoon in the soft, lush grass basking in the warm sun near Wilmer Lake; or the day we walked south from Cook and Green Pass past Kangaroo Springs to Lower Devils Peak with its ringside seat to the conflagration raging across the Klamath River Valley.  Every hiker has their transcendent days.

Such days do not always represent a confluence of everything wonderful.  It is their enchanted quality, what English writer Nan Fairbrother calls “exquisite moments,” that sets them apart.  Besides, time seems to blur the difficult and brighten the best experiences of these stellar days.  Such was the case this particular day.

The day dawned with vestiges of the tumultuous evening resting on the peaks above Lower Twin Lake in Lassen Volcanic National Park.  We tried to shake off as much moisture as possible but there was no alternative but to pack the tents wet again.  Dr. Howard tended to Don and Eli’s ailing feet.  Wet boots and long days had chaffed their feet raw with blisters compounding their discomfort.  There were unspoken thoughts of an early exit from the trail as it is no fun when each step hurts.  Perhaps a short day will improve spirits.

Speed bumps of late season snow gave way to long stretches of snow sheltered by the dense tree canopy.  I always find these situations wearing if not exhausting.  Climbing up and down the steep edges of the snow banks; picking your path around downed trees; add in a couple of postholes.   We carefully crossed several creeks swollen by the melt water and preceding night’s rainfall.  About midday we reached the crest of a line of basalt cliffs that comprise Flatiron Ridge high above the Warner Valley and, more importantly, Drakesbad.

Drakesbad, initially established clear back in 1900 as a guest ranch, remains a rustic refuge accessible via a corrugated unpaved road seventeen miles in from Chester (which is pretty remote itself) or on foot.  There are only nineteen units at Drakesbad some of which still rely on kerosene lamps.  However, the price for a night rivals the cost of a month on the PCT.  Yet, during much of the summer, accommodations have been reserved for years.  It really is a Northern California Shangri-la.

As we made the long traverse down, we could see the steam rising from the hot spring pool set out in a broad meadow.  The siren song of happy voices pulled us forward.  Our own chatter focused on the possibility of reserving a space for dinner.

We set up our tents in the Park Service’s Warner Valley Campground, hung a line and did our best to give the high mountain sun a chance to dry out our saturated gear.  Howard and I were nominated to walk the half mile to Drakesbad to ask about a table for four in the well ventilated section.  We donned clean tee-shirts and tried to sponge away the most offensive trail musk.

As we stepped into the closed space of the dining room, even our deadened noses became aware of the aroma that accompanied us.  The colorful tablecloths festooned the light wood of the dining room.  The room was set for dinner.  Salad forks.  Second spoons.  Wine glasses.  The ambiance was simple but elegant.   The realization that we didn’t fit here made us yearn for the opportunity that much more.

A tall woman brusquely emerged from what appeared to be the kitchen.  She had the air of a person with a long list of urgent tasks and little time for hiker trash.  Our first efforts to turn on the charm bounced off her and fell impotently to the floor.

We continued, “Any chance, any chance at all, that there might be a way to handle four more this evening?”  We weren’t above inserting a hint of desperation in our request.

“The Ranch is full and we usually only have enough food for our paying guests,” she replied without a hint of sympathy.  There was a pause as she saw our crestfallen faces.  “I will check with the chef and see if there is likely to be extra food.”   Perhaps it was her Germanic accent that underscored the futility of our quest.   Perhaps it was that she didn’t seem to be heading off to ask anyone anything.

We turned to go, tails between our legs.  Don and Eli will be so disappointed.  We had hoped this would be an antidote for their blistered feet and bruised morale.

With one foot out the door, Howard asked if it might be possible to use the phone for a quick call home as our cell phones had not been working along this stretch of the PCT.

It was if Howard had uttered a magic incantation that had propelled us into a parallel universe.  We were Dorothy trying to get into Oz.  “Why didn’t you say you were on the Crest Trail,” Billie Fiebiger exclaimed.  “We always have enough food for PCT hikers.”  In fact, Billie gave us the key to the city.  “Use the showers (please) and the pool.  Make yourselves at home.  Come back at 7 p.m. although you may not be seated until later.”  Still shaking our heads at our good fortune and this rather mysterious turn of events, we hurried back to tell Don and Eli the news before the spell was broken.

As the four of us returned the dark clouds that had dogged us the past several days were building quickly.  But, the warm showers and the hydrothermal pool kept us occupied until the rumble of thunder became more aggressive. Within minutes the remaining blue patches of sky vanished.  Lightning forced us reluctantly to vacate the pool.  The hail drove us for cover under the eaves of the bathhouse.   The gusting winds pushed tentacles of rain toward even the most protected corners.

Valiant employees raced down the trail to the pool in an electric cart to rescue the castaways three per trip.  The meadow had been transformed into a Sargasso Sea and the pyrotechnics kept us all jumpy.  Eventually we were deposited in the Lodge where we were to wait until dinner.

The photo albums and memorabilia in the Lodge deepened our appreciation for just what a special place Drakesbad is.  For two generations the Sifford family had built and tended this Guest Ranch.  For over 60 years they reclaimed the facility after each harsh winter for its four months of annual operation.  It had to be a labor of love.  The facility was incorporated into the National Park in 1958.  For the past 19 years, Ed and Billie Fiebiger have served as the hosts, caretakers, and stewards of Drakesbad.

Ed, in his chef’s apron, called us for dinner.  We crossed to the dining hall and were promptly seated.  There were several choices of entrees.  Or, Ed suggested, “Try them all!”  Heaping plates were brought to each of us.  The folks at the adjacent table took a special interest in our story.  One of their group had come annually for nearly fifty years.  Another from their table was sent back to their cabin and instructed to return with some of their wine stash to be shared with us.  “White or red?”  “No”, she instructed her husband, “bring one of each.”  We were peppered with questions and asked quite a few of our own.  We soaked up the attention that comes with being minor celebrities.

Ed pulled up a chair.  He had a bigger than life quality and exuded a warmth that permeated the hospitality of this magical place.

My cynical side wanted to peer around to make sure that we were not being fattened up by some wicked witch.  But, Drakesbad is a place that replenishes your faith in the generosity of the human spirit.  Distrust, doubt, and skepticism have no place here.

And, there was desert too.  In fact, there were three kinds.  “Try them all!”

It was tempting to linger much longer than we did.  I confess that it was all I could to restrain myself from asking if they served breakfast too.

Eventually we said reluctant goodbyes and enthusiastic thank yous.  The rain had stopped by the time we walked back toward our campsite.  If we weren’t walking down the road with our arms around each other, singing and talking loudly, then it felt like there was that sense of conviviality. 

The storm had spread our clothes across our campsite and sent cascades of water around our tents.   But there was nothing capable of dampening our spirits on this magical day.

NUMBER 7.  Harvesting pine nuts south of Walker Pass, May 10, 2011

I wanted to include a representative small moment that happens along the trail.  These are times when you slow down, stop, and absorb the nature that surrounds you.  These are the countless quiet, gentle experiences that occur, if you let them. I like to consider these my Mary Oliver moments.

When I section-hiked the PCT from Tehachapi to Walker Pass several Mays ago, as we neared the northern end of that trip we took a lunch break one day under a grove of piñon pines.  As we reached into our pack for our usual lunch of cheese, rye crackers, and salami, we began to notice that the forest floor was littered with pine nuts.  While some had become food for rodents, squirrels, and other foraging animals since dropping to the ground the prior autumn, most were so very edible.  Soon we were each on our hands and knees collecting cones and harvesting their delectable contents. I ate my fill and packed an empty bag with more nuts that I brought home with me when I left the trail.  It helped me understand the important role that pine nuts could play in the diet of Native Peoples. One pound of these nuts can contain up to 3,000 calories.

Another one of these small moments took place on the sandy bank of the McCloud River in Northern California on a section of the trail that most thru-hikers treat as an unfortunate 83 miles necessary to get from spectacular Burney Falls to Castle Crags and the beginning of the more dramatic Trinity Alps.  I was hiking with my friend, Bruce Johnston.  We had made excellent time from Deer Creek and decided to stop in the early afternoon and enjoy easy access to the McCloud River from the Ah-Di-Na Campground, located on the site of a former Wintu village and eventually a lavish resort owned by newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst (the family still owns an estate, Wyntoon, ten miles upstream).  By the late 1950s the Hearst family had razed the resort buildings and in 1965 the Forest Service had acquired the property.  The one constant throughout was the beautiful McCloud River.  Bruce and I set up camp and retreated to the edge of the river where we could lie flat on a sandy bar. There was just enough wind to avoid the mosquitoes that had been feasting on us in camp.  For the next two hours we watched the evolution of the evening sky, the dance of the bugs, birds, and trout, the breeze in the trees.  All of this accompanied by the soundtrack of the McCloud River.  In a trail culture where it is all about perpetually moving forward, there is much to be said for slowing down. “We are Nature,” Walt Whitman says, “long have we been absent, but now we return.”  Being more mindful has been an important life lesson for me.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Psalms

for Tuesday, july 7 of 2020 with Psalm 7 accompanied by Psalm 18 for the 18th day of Summer and Psalm 39 for day 189 of the year

[Psalm 7]

A David Psalm

God! God! I am running to you for dear life;

the chase is wild.

If they catch me, I’m finished:

ripped to shreds by foes fierce as lions,

dragged into the forest and left

unlooked for, unremembered.

God, if I’ve done what they say—

betrayed my friends,

ripped off my enemies—

If my hands are really that dirty,

let them get me, walk all over me,

leave me flat on my face in the dirt.

Stand up, God; pit your holy fury

against my furious enemies.

Wake up, God. My accusers have packed

the courtroom; it’s judgment time.

Take your place on the bench, reach for your gavel,

throw out the false charges against me.

I’m ready, confident in your verdict:

“Innocent.”

Close the book on Evil, God,

but publish your mandate for us.

You get us ready for life:

you probe for our soft spots,

you knock off our rough edges.

And I’m feeling so fit, so safe:

made right, kept right.

God in solemn honor does things right,

but his nerves are sandpapered raw.

Nobody gets by with anything.

God is already in action—

Sword honed on his whetstone,

bow strung, arrow on the string,

Lethal weapons in hand,

each arrow a flaming missile.

Look at that guy!

He had sex with sin,

he’s pregnant with evil.

Oh, look! He’s having

the baby—a Lie-Baby!

See that man shoveling day after day,

digging, then concealing, his man-trap

down that lonely stretch of road?

Go back and look again—you’ll see him in it headfirst,

legs waving in the breeze.

That’s what happens:

mischief backfires;

violence boomerangs.

I’m thanking God, who makes things right.

I’m singing the fame of heaven-high God.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 7 (The Message)

[Psalm 18]

I Love You, Lord

Praises sung to the Pure and Shining One, by King David, his servant, composed when the Lord rescued David from all his many enemies, including from the brutality of Saul

Lord, I passionately love you and I’m bonded to you,

for now you’ve become my power!

You’re as real to me as bedrock beneath my feet,

like a castle on a cliff, my forever firm fortress,

my mountain of hiding, my pathway of escape,

my tower of rescue where none can reach me.

My secret strength and shield around me,

you are salvation’s ray of brightness shining on the hillside,

always the champion of my cause.

All I need to do is to call to you,

singing to you, the praiseworthy God.

When I do, I’m safe and sound in you.

For when the ropes of death wrapped around me

and terrifying torrents of destruction overwhelmed me,

taking me to death’s door, to doom’s domain,

I cried out to you in my distress, the delivering God,

and from your temple-throne you heard my troubled cry.

My sobs came right into your heart

and you turned your face to rescue me.

The earth itself shivered and shook.

It reeled and rocked before him.

As the mountains trembled, they melted away!

For his anger was kindled, burning on my behalf.

Fierce flames leapt from his mouth,

erupting with blazing, burning coals as smoke

and fire encircled him.

He stretched heaven’s curtain open and came to my defense.

Swiftly he rode to earth as the stormy sky was lowered.

He rode a chariot of thunderclouds amidst thick darkness,

a cherub his steed as he swooped down,

soaring on the wings of Spirit-wind.

Wrapped and hidden in the thick-cloud darkness,

his thunder-tabernacle surrounded him.

He hid himself in mystery-darkness;

the dense rain clouds were his garments.

Suddenly the brilliance of his presence broke through

with lightning bolts and with a mighty storm from heaven—

like a tempest dropping coals of fire.

The Lord thundered, the great God above every god

spoke with his thunder-voice from the skies.

What fearsome hailstones and flashes of fire were before him!

He released his lightning-arrows, and routed my foes.

See how they ran and scattered in fear!

Then with his mighty roar he laid bare the foundations of the earth,

uncovering the secret source of the sea.

The hidden depths of land and sea were exposed

by the hurricane-blast of his hot breath.

He then reached down from heaven,

all the way from the sky to the sea.

He reached down into my darkness to rescue me!

He took me out of my calamity and chaos

and drew me to himself,

taking me from the depths of my despair!

Even though I was helpless in the hands

of my hateful, strong enemy,

you were good to deliver me.

When I was at my weakest, my enemies attacked—

but the Lord held on to me.

His love broke open the way

and he brought me into a beautiful broad place.

He rescued me—because his delight is in me!

He rewarded me for doing what’s right and staying pure.

I will follow his commands and never stop.

I’ll not sin by ceasing to follow him, no matter what.

For I’ve kept my eyes focused on his righteous words

and I’ve obeyed everything that he’s told me to do.

I’ve done my best to be blameless and to follow all his ways,

keeping my heart pure.

I’ve kept my integrity by surrendering to him.

And so the Lord has rewarded me with his blessing.

This is the treasure I discovered

when I kept my heart clean before his eyes.

Lord, it is clear to me now that how we live

will dictate how you deal with us.

Good people will taste your goodness, Lord.

And to those who are loyal to you,

you love to prove that you are loyal and true.

And for those who are purified, they find you always pure.

But you’ll outwit the crooked and cunning with your craftiness.

To the humble you bring heaven’s deliverance.

But the proud and haughty you disregard.

God, all at once you turned on a floodlight for me!

You are the revelation-light in my darkness,

and in your brightness I can see the path ahead.

With you as my strength I can crush an enemy horde,

advancing through every stronghold that stands in front of me.

What a God you are! Your path for me has been perfect!

All your promises have proven true.

What a secure shelter for all those

who turn to hide themselves in you!

You are the wrap-around God giving grace to me.

Could there be any other god like you?

You are the only God to be worshiped,

for there is not a more secure foundation

to build my life upon than you.

You have wrapped me in power,

and now you’ve shared with me your perfection.

Through you I ascend to the highest peaks of your glory

to stand in the heavenly places, strong and secure in you.

You’ve trained me with the weapons of warfare-worship;

now I’ll descend into battle with power

to chase and conquer my foes.

You empower me for victory with your wrap-around presence.

Your power within makes me strong to subdue,

and by stooping down in gentleness

you strengthened me and made me great!

You’ve set me free from captivity

and now I’m standing complete, ready to fight some more!

I caught up with my enemies and conquered them,

and didn’t turn back until the war was won!

I pinned them to the ground and broke them to pieces.

I finished them once and for all; they’re as good as dead.

You’ve placed your armor upon me

and defeated my enemies, making them bow low at my feet.

You’ve made them all turn tail and run,

for through you I’ve destroyed them all!

Forever silenced, they’ll never taunt me again.

They shouted for help but not one dared to rescue them.

They shouted to God but he refused to answer them.

So I pulverized them to powder and cast them to the wind.

I swept them away like dirt on the floor.

You gave me victory on every side,

for look how the nations come to serve me.

Even those I’ve never heard of come and bow at my feet.

As soon as they heard of me they submitted to me.

Even the rebel foreigners obey my every word.

Their rebellion fades away as they come near;

trembling in their strongholds,

they come crawling out of their hideouts.

Cringing in fear before me, their courage is gone.

The Almighty is alive and conquers all!

Praise is lifted high to the unshakable God!

Towering over all, my Savior-God is worthy to be praised!

Look how he pays back harm to all who harm me,

subduing all the people who come against me.

He rescues me from my enemies;

he lifts me up high and keeps me out of reach,

far from the grasp of my violent foe.

This is why I thank God with high praises!

I will sing my song to the highest God,

so all among the nations will hear me.

You have appointed me king and rescued me

time and time again with your magnificent miracles.

You’ve been merciful and kind to me, your anointed one.

This favor will be forever seen upon your loving servant, David,

and to all my descendants!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 18 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 39]

A David Psalm

I’m determined to watch steps and tongue

so they won’t land me in trouble.

I decided to hold my tongue

as long as Wicked is in the room.

“Mum’s the word,” I said, and kept quiet.

But the longer I kept silence

The worse it got—

my insides got hotter and hotter.

My thoughts boiled over;

I spilled my guts.

“Tell me, what’s going on, God?

How long do I have to live?

Give me the bad news!

You’ve kept me on pretty short rations;

my life is string too short to be saved.

Oh! we’re all puffs of air.

Oh! we’re all shadows in a campfire.

Oh! we’re just spit in the wind.

We make our pile, and then we leave it.

“What am I doing in the meantime, Lord?

Hoping, that’s what I’m doing—hoping

You’ll save me from a rebel life,

save me from the contempt of dunces.

I’ll say no more, I’ll shut my mouth,

since you, Lord, are behind all this.

But I can’t take it much longer.

When you put us through the fire

to purge us from our sin,

our dearest idols go up in smoke.

Are we also nothing but smoke?

“Ah, God, listen to my prayer, my

cry—open your ears.

Don’t be callous;

just look at these tears of mine.

I’m a stranger here. I don’t know my way—

a migrant like my whole family.

Give me a break, cut me some slack

before it’s too late and I’m out of here.”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 39 (The Message)

[kuwahuru]

9 Days Kilimanjaro to Zanzibar Adventure

We are a top ranked tour company in Tanzania,We love working with tourists from around the world, our service is friendly and focus on providing the best service... We offer custom-made programs for small groups or families, solo person or couples, get in contact with us for a free quote and itinerary Day 1: Arrive in Arusha: We stay at Green Mountain Hotel Lodge, which is a beautiful Hotel located on the lower slopes of Mount Meru and is a perfect place to prepare you for adventure. We will gather in the evening at 5:30 pm for a pre-climb briefing and an equipment check. And to confirm you have the appropriate mandatory medical coverage and travel insurance. Dinner and overnight at Arusha Safari Lodge: Half board. Climbing Program Details in Days  Day 2: Arusha to Machame Camp (3000m 6-7 hours walking) The climb starts from machame gate (1800m) after registration  Once at the gate you will be given a packed lunch, your climb will begin with ascending into the rainforest. During the day - The path follows a ridge through dense montane forest. This is the richest forested area on the mountain, and also the zone from where 98% of the water on Kilimanjaro orginates. On sunny days, and especially in the dry season is very lush and beautiful; it can also be a very muddy experience, partculary if it has rained recently. About half way up - we will have a break and you can enjoy your packed lunch. We will reach the Machame Camp in late afternoon. After your arrival and registration at Machame Camp you will be taken to your tent which has already been set up by the porters who ran ahead, where you will greeted with hot washing water. Once you have freshened up and settled in,a hot dinner will be served in the mess-tent. We may get our first closer look at the glaciated dome of Kibo if the evening clouds permit. Day 3: Climb Machame to Shira Camp (4-5 hours walking Alt - 3850) You will be woken up after your first night on the mountain with a nice cup of coffee, tea or hot chocolate at 6:30am in your tent. After breakfast A shorter day that begins by climbing up a steep ridge,we leave the rainforest and continue our ascent crossing a small valley into open moorlands where the vegetation is sparse with small shrubs to reach a small semicircular cliff known as picnic rock . There are excellent views of kibo and the jagged rim of Shira Plateau from here and it is a good rest point too, the trail continues less steeply to reach the Shira Plateau. We camp near Shira Hut (3840m) which has some of the most stunning views on Kilimanjaro; close to the huge volcanic cone of Kibo, the spectacular rock formations of Shira Plateau, and looking across to Mt. Meru floating on the clouds. At the camp you will be welcome with  hot washing water. You can then put your feet up with cup of tee and some snacks. The night at this exposed camp will even be colder than the previous night, with temperatures dropping to well below freezing. Day 4: Climb Shira 3,840m to lover tower 4,630m to Barranco Camp 3,950m. 6-7 hours walking The route now turns east into a semi desert and rocky landscape surrounding Lava Tower, where you reach and altitude of 4630m after about a 5 hour walk. Lunch is served in a designated area before ascending the rocky scream path to Lava Tower (4630m). Definitely the toughest day so far. It is normally around this point, where for the first time, some climbers will start to feel symptoms of breathlessness, irritability and headaches. After lunch you descent again by almost 680m to the Barranco Camping area and after reaching the high altitude of 4630m at Lava Lava Tower, the true acclimatization benefit of this day becomes clear. This descent to Barranco Camp takes about 2 hours and offers great opportunities to lay below the Breach and great Barranco wall. Which should provide you with a memorable sunset extensive views of the plains far below. While you wait for the preparation of your dinner Day 5: Barranco via Karanga Camp 13,100ft to Barafu Camp(4600m. 6-7 hours walking) After spending a night at the Great Barranco valley, A steep climb up the Barranco wall leads us to an undulating trail on the south-eastern flank of Kibo, (a very imposing sight at first) you make your way up this awesome looking obstacle, which in the end normally turns out easier than what you anticipated topping out just below the hem glacier, you now appreciate just how beautiful Kilimanjaro really is. The route then heads down through the Karanga Valley over intervening ridges and valleys, and then joins up with the Mweka route. This is the preferred route down from the summit, so remember it. Turn left up the ridge and after another forty minutes or so, you reach Barafu Hut. The last water stop on the route is the Karranga Valley, as there is no water at Barafu Camp. Barafu is the Swahili word for “ice” and it is a bleak and inhospitable camping area to spend the night. Totally exposed to the ever-present gales the tents are pitched on a narrow, stony, make sure that you familiar yourself with the terrain before dark to avoid any accidents. The summit is now a further 1345m up and you will make the final ascent the same night. Prepare your equipment, walking stick and thermal clothing for your summit attempt. This should include the replacement of your headlamp and camera batteries and make sure you have a spare set available as well. Go to bed as soon as you finish your dinner, and try to get some precious rest and sleep. Day 6: Summit Attempt. Barafu Camp (4550m)- Uhuru Peak(5895m)-Mweka(3100m) The wake-up tea will be served at 11:30pm with the departure at midnight, After a hot drink and some biscuits we will start the challenge for the summit. Our initial 6-hour climb begins in the dark with our headlamps and guides to show us the way through the thick scree and winding pathways of Ratzel and Rebmann Glaciers until we reach Stella Point. Many say this is the most  challenging part of the entire climb but you will be rewarded with what is perhaps the most emotional and beautiful sunrise accompany with cup of tee, this "moment"  you have see nor ever will see in your life. After taking a short rest we will continue the last part of 1 hour more along the Crater rim  passing close to the spectacular glaciers and ice cliffs that still occupy most of the summit area, to reach your ultimate goal-the summit –the highest peak of Africa –Uhuru Peak at 5,895m. Congratulations! You are now standing on the “Roof of Africa”. Our guides will take pictures of you at the world famous Uhuru sign, as much as they can.The time you will spend on the summit will depend on the weather conditions. Do not stop here for too long, as it will be extremely difficult to start again due to cold and fatigue. Enjoy your accomplishment and a day to remember for the rest of your life, it is important to start our descent after few minutes. We will descend through sliding scree and winding pathways for about 3 hours back to Barafu camp. On reaching Barafu Camp the rest our team will congratulate you and welcome you with a hot lunch. Here you will have a well earned but short rest and collect the rest of your gear, before heading down to Mweka camp (3100m). The route is not difficult and will take you down the rock and scream path into the moorland and eventually into the forest. The camp is situated in the upper forest and mist or rain can be expected in the late afternoon. Trekking poles are very useful in this part of the descent. In the camp you will have a last fantastic view of the summit–finding it hard to believe that only a few hours ago you were stood at the top. And after this long day, you can enjoy your dinner and your last night on the mountain. Day 7: Mweka camp to Mweka Gate (3-4 hours walking) Once again you will be woken for your final celebratory breakfast where our team will thank and congratulate you in their unique, special way! This is also the opportunity for you to say thank you for their support and encouragement and show your appreciation by giving a tip to each of them or to the team leader. We will then set off for the final 3-hour scenic descent to Mweka Gate (1650m.) on a well maintained trail through lovely tropical forest alive with birdcalls and boasting lush undergrowth with considerable botanical interest. At the gate you will get the chance to have a celebratory beer while the equipment is loaded in the van and then it is off to a hotel in Moshi or Arusha town for a long overdue hot shower. After dinner with sparkling wine you will be presented with your certificate of achievement. Day 8: Nairobi Airport Transfer 3 Days Zanzibar Tour A trip to Zanzibar is a great way to relax after climbing Kilimanjaro or after your adventure safari. Kuwa Huru Adventure Tanzania provides an all-inclusive 3 days Zanzibar getaway package with four different levels of lodging to choose from. Day 8: Arrive in Zanzibar- Spice Farms and Stone Town Tour Arrive anytime you will meet us at the airport and pick up with a private transfer to Stone town. On arrival at the Airport you will drive to your lodge for check in and an afternoon at leisure with exploratory options, or you can start  your tour to spice  farm where you can see different types of spice and how they grow up plus tasting the seasonal fruits then will have lunch at spice farm ,then will do stone town  tour where you can see historical site ,slave market ,daily market, narrow streets and  later shopping, But this option depend on what time you arrive in this island.   Dinner and overnight at your hotel Day 9: Safari Blue Tour. Spend the day at the Island with a variety of optional activities, These will include, Scuba diving, snorkeling, natural forest and dolphin tour. Early At 06:00 am You will go to south coast of Zanzibar to kizimkazi village. to day  will be amazing trip, because you may swim with hundreds of spinner & bottle – nose dolphins. Oslo you’ll see the living species of fish under Neath. You can stop in one of those for Sea food lunch , where by later you will continue with activities according to your itinerary plan. It is full day, back at hotel around 18:30. Dinner and overnight stay at Tembo Hotel: Half board. Day 10: Departure Day. Depending on your flight schedule and departure time, it’s possible to do some arether activities before your departure time, and then you will be transferred to the Zanzibar Airport to take a flight back home. If you are flying out of Dar es Salaam or Nairobi, we will arrange a connection flight for you to catch your flight back home. Trip price Includes: Tanzania VAT on tourism activities and park fees All entries fees as listed in the itinerary All transfers while in Zanzibar Hotel Lodging the night before and the night after the climb. Transfer from your hotel to starting point for your climb, and return to your hotel after your climb Large portions of fresh, healthy, nutritious food Kilimanjaro National Park rescue fees (Kilimanjaro Rescue Team) Emergency oxygen (for use in emergencies only – not as summiting aid) Basic first aid kit (for use in emergencies only) Qualified mountain guide, assistant guides, porters and cook Salaries for mountain crew as per guidelines set by Kilimanjaro National Park Breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as hot drinks on the mountain Camping equipment (tents, camp chairs and tables Water for washing up daily Porter to carry your duffel bag (max weight 15kg / 32 lbs) from one camp to the next camp. Kilimanjaro National Park certificate for your successful summit attempt A comprehensive Climbing Kilimanjaro travel info pack Government taxes, VAT and service charges relating to accommodation and included meals Trip price Excludes: International airfare & flights Airport taxes Items of a personal nature Compulsory tips for guides, porters and cook (average tip is anything from US $ 230 to US $ 300 per hiker – depending on number of days / how many hikers in the group and route chosen) South African passport holders do NOT require a visa for Tanzania, however most other Nationalities require a visa for Tanzania Health requirements (Yellow Fever compulsory if traveling to Tanzania recommended) Highly recommended travel and medical insurance. Personal hiking/trekking gear – we can rent some of the gear from our equipment store in Tanzania Optional but highly recommended Portable toilet Snacks, personal medicine and water purifying tablets   Read the full article