2nd Dec '08 (715pm) - Mountain Joy

On the factory hill, overlooking Slate House I seem to have an abode... door like the double glazed balcony one I have now. A car is being parked by what seems a push on the slippery ice ground (not driven). It slips down the hill and into the cars parked at Slate House, though the drive is the one from Deeds Grove. A new curvaceous lady car, sporty and pink, is hit among others (it's Hazel's). Hazel, Rachel and I are at the top of the hill, outside my door, and I put my arms around them, one over each of their shoulders, as we crouch and take it in. At least I'm getting R.E.M. sleep.

I did a five hour walk today, up into the snowy mountains, along mostly National Park tracks or those imprinted in the snow by those before me. In a valley between two bluffs the wind picked up and the dry snow was whipped up like sand in a desert storm and I turned my back to its force. Then when the gusts died down I trudged a path up in some parts up to my knees and I laughed at the joy of feeling like a mountaineer in the austere conditions. I turned around because visibility was poor higher up and I wasn't sure of changing conditions at, I'm guessing, 1300 metres plus. Made the walk back down to Zakapane at 800 metres plus.

In town I bought a pork steak in toasted bread, with salad, and Polish beer, sitting near the crackling open fire... pop pip fzzz... I read some of Kerouac's Big Sur and listened to Gypsy sounding music from the speakers. I was trying to not look overcome with tiredness, haggard face and eyes. Bleary drunken stair. Tiresome. Lonesome. Satisfied. It was a good walk.