mountain_pass past we've never really talked about how we got lost on the ice pack over the pass on that first big multiday hike. we were looking for the little hut we booked a bunk in, full of the invisibility and vigour of youth in the midst of a grand adventure. the crisp snow beneath our feet was a strange sort of relief after the still-radiating heat of the year before's lava field while our eyes were searching for a sign post that we knew had to be somewhere close, but that we also knew could have been shifted by any number of causes. the late afternoon sun was deceptive. it wouldn't set, not really, that close to the solstice in these far northern latitudes. it was a mixed blessing: we wouldn't run out of daylight for days, but even though we knew we had to go north, you couldn't quite use the position of the sun to navigate. the snowy field stretched deceptively to every horizon. if it didn't actually happen, and if the others in the hut didn't also see him, we would have assumed he has a figment of our imagination. a tired hallucination, a product of the cold mountain air. but just as our tempers began to rise, a man on a mountain bike appeared as if from nowhere - laughing as he rode across the snow. he stopped when he saw us, taking a long drink from his water bottle, and helpfully pointing us slightly off the path we were wandering on. we soon arrived at the hut, helped dig some snow to melt to replenish the water bottles of the others hiking the trail from coast to interior forests. the bunks were crowded, often two to a bed (usually but not always couples). there was a group of retired czechs who laughed when we told our story. they had seen the biker too, "you crazy canadians" they smiled warmly before returning to their own language. it was a motley group. many european nationalities represented, with us the sole couple from another continent. a babble of languages filled the room as everyone recounted their hike up the mountain, sharing with co-nationals the views from the coast to the south and valley to the north. and of course the strange biker. the groups heading south from the valley were particularly perplexed, we heard in cross-group english conversation, how did he get a bike up? (we would see the truth of this disbelief as we descended the next day). before settling to sleep, i went out to use the outhouse. on my way i saw in the night's sun a plaque. a few years before a young man, not much older than i was then, got lost on his way to the hut. his body found days later, a few hundred metres away, just barely out of sight. the joy and warmth from the hut left me. it was such a near thing. 220519 ... past (definitely checked this word multiple times *invincibility 220519 ... raze i think it works both ways. and even the accident has a lot of truth in it. i often felt invisible when i was younger. sometimes there was a sense of freedom that followed that feeling. other times it was lonely to feel unseen. either way, this is a stunning piece of writing. 220519 what's it to you? who go blather from