Hatton – Dalhousie
My favourite pictures are from Adam’s Peak.
It’s funny, I had so many hours of train rides on this trip, hours and hours chugging along the tracks, but somehow I had chosen to while my time away instead of jotting down my memories. It’s not a bad thing really, I was immersed in the moment I suppose. The continual movement of myself provided a justified limbo for myself, a space where I did not have to do anything, if I didn’t want to. What a luxury! What a luxury. Or maybe I should stop measuring the quality of my time using the notion of productivity.
Doing nothing is doing something. It is being in the moment. Being present.
Base of Adam’s Peak (Dalhousie)
We had slept at around 10pm, brushed our teeth and gone to bed, and set our alarm at 2 or 3am. Another midnight hike, where we set off in the breezy night, my quiet breath overtaking the ones around me as I followed cz’s pace. I remember the coolness of my right hand as it brushed against the raindrops along the silver railings – an impression I recall despite the darkness, a flashing torchlight by the French tourist behind me perhaps – a stillness that jolted my bleary mind slightly as I walked on, half-dazed from my lack(?) of sleep.
The sunrise was nice. If I were to be honest, the view wasn’t particularly impressive. We had reached at 5am or some sort, ahead of our schedule, and had to wait 1-2 cold hours at the top. I rocked forward and backward as I hugged my knee against my chest. We ate the lemon and chocolate biscuits as we waited for the sun to rise. The rows of spectators watched, and murmurs emerged along with the awakening colours. At last, the people around us got up and waved their hands in the sun.