By Kev Reynolds
Publish 12 months note: First released November twenty eighth 2013
A stroll within the Clouds: 50 Years one of the Mountains is a heartwarming, inspirational, and evocative choice of stories and brief tales from Kev Reynolds, a prolific and celebrated guidebook writer who has been roaming the mountains for a half-century.
These memories path Reyonlds's;journeys via a few of his favourite and so much memorable classes discovered at the mountains. the folks met, stories shared, and cultures bridged all through Reynolds' travels make for an attractive learn for hikers and non-hikers alike.
Shadowing Reynolds around the Moroccan Atlas, the Pyrenees trails, the ecu Alps, or even the Himalayas offers the reader the sensation not just of mountaineering the paths, but additionally of forming the relationships and connections during the international that Reynolds was once in a position to create. This ebook motivates the typical reader to adopt anything they've got by no means performed prior to simply because, because the reader learns from Reynolds, that's the place the superior reviews come from.
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Additional info for A Walk in the Clouds: 50 Years Among the Mountains
We were not fit. It was late afternoon before we found the hut. Half-buried by avalanche debris, it took almost an hour to dig our way to the door P Y R E N E E S • 13 and force entry. It was like an igloo inside. Snow had come down the chimney and spread across the stone floor, and although it only took four paces to cross the room, each step was deadly. Our shelter was an ice rink. One and a half candles, a damp box of matches, an empty wine bottle, and a half packet of rice lay on a shelf beside the chimney breast; there were no mattresses on the bare boards of the two sleeping platforms, but it would be our home for the night.
After some time a shadow moved across my face. Opening one eye I saw the guardian slip quietly into the hut and was vaguely aware of his bare feet padding on the stone floor. Moments later he reappeared, carrying a flute in his right hand, its silver dazzling in the sunshine. Choosing a rocky perch above the nearest small lake twenty paces from Alan and me, he settled cross-legged, like a bearded maestro facing an audience full of expectation. I nudged Alan, and when he opened his eyes I nodded towards the flautist, who now had our undivided attention.
An air of calm emanated from the team; they were professional, unflustered, deliberate in their movements. Each one knew his role, so three helmeted climbers roped up, switched on headtorches, and with a final word of instruction from their leader, set off in the now damp, cloud-wrapped darkness towards the unseen mountain—the mountain affectionately known to local climbers as Jean-Pierre. A walkie-talkie crackled. Someone lit a cigarette; its glow penetrated the gloom. As the minutes ticked by disembodied voices could be heard— one at the foot of the mountain; the other high, distant and trembling.
A Walk in the Clouds: 50 Years Among the Mountains by Kev Reynolds