An alarm call of 4am seemed to come round all too quickly. Looking out of the window, the sky showed promise, stars still glinting down at me. It was time to get ourselves wrapped up warm and head into the mountains.
We reached the bottom of our intended location just before 5am. It was still pitch black. Experience has already told me and my companion that landscape photography is a game of waiting for the light, not chasing after it. Head torches on and heavy backpacks strapped into place we began our ascent up the path towards the summit. Days before we had climbed this exact route, we were familiar with where we were heading, but even so, in the dark it was all to easy to become disorientated.
The climb was slow and considered. Heavy legs were eased by the first pre-dawn colours in the sky. By which time there was a little more cloud drifting in. On wards and upwards we went, with still a considerable way left until we reached the location we had previously scouted out.
Night sky slowly easing away, the light growing and colours getting brighter we arrived at the small plateau. A familiar boulder sat idol, eager to greet us and share the view across to the Mamores. Pouring a hot drink and slowly setting up my kit, I soaked up the views. Daybreak was slowly approaching, colours becoming more intense. I was ready.
Light eventually poured onto the mountains, clouds stooped in, the occasional flake of snow. Working silently, yet efficiently I found myself lost for words. Transfixed by the sheer beauty and power of mother nature. What seemed like a ridiculously early time to rise and an exhausting climb, bogged down by our bags, didn’t seem to matter now. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, a time when the elements seemed to meet in perfect harmony around me.
An hour or so after the sun had risen, my thoughts turned to my stomach. What I had taken up with me to eat, certainly wasn’t gourmet by any stretch of the imagination, but that really didn’t matter. Who could complain about breakfast with such a fine view!!
