A great story
09/05/07 01:02 AM *Adventure
Sit down with a cup of tea (hot or cold, depending on
where you live) and read Marcia's amazing account of her
solo run through the Sierras.
Excerpt:
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night.
The poetry of William Blake strolls across my consciousness as I pass through mile after mile of pitch-black forest. There are no tigers here, and the only thing burning bright is the light of my headlamp. I am comfortable alone in the forest at night. There is very little to be afraid of in these mountains. But, yes, things do occasionally happen to people who wander far off into the mountains at night, and those thoughts do not escape me entirely. I remember John's last words to me, as he kissed me goodbye early that morning. "Have fun. Don't get eaten."
Excerpt:
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night.
The poetry of William Blake strolls across my consciousness as I pass through mile after mile of pitch-black forest. There are no tigers here, and the only thing burning bright is the light of my headlamp. I am comfortable alone in the forest at night. There is very little to be afraid of in these mountains. But, yes, things do occasionally happen to people who wander far off into the mountains at night, and those thoughts do not escape me entirely. I remember John's last words to me, as he kissed me goodbye early that morning. "Have fun. Don't get eaten."
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