This doesn’t feel right. There is something very surreal about this place. All around me is utter blackness. The beam of my brand new, more powerful than the sun, head torch sweeps across the moorland and finds nothing but empty space.
The temperature is dropping now and I find myself shivering and becoming despondent with the realisation of just how long I’m going to have to stand in this black, cold place. I retreat into my down jacket, grateful for the cocoon like warmth it offers. I try not to look at my watch, reasoning that if I look and less time has passed than I expected, I’ll be even more disappointed.
It’s hard to keep my spirits up because I’ve just had my annual fail. Once every year, sometimes twice if I am unlucky, I head for a bothy and don’t make it. I’ve done well over the last year, getting to every place I wanted to with relative easy. Today, however, the gods looked down on me and decided that this was to be my day of atonement.
http://wp.me/p2vm3e-hb 
