– The mountains, yes, the mountains teach a man so many things… – the young mountain guide went on. After a good half-day's walk it was pleasant to rest, and at last we stretched a little and basked in the sun. – Here the morning is the time you can trust, the afternoon is already uncertain. A storm can blow up at the most unexpected moment, rain is a matter of course, and blazing sunshine can turn to freezing winter in an instant. You have seen the patches of snow, even now, in midsummer…
Indeed, in the shadow of the rocks, on every slope that faced even slightly north, the snow still lay melting. I studied one of these masses of snow. It covered the stones evenly, but as it drew back it took on a finely curved shape. Near the ground, where the warmth reached the patch more fully, it had already parted from the surface, while higher up its whole mass still clung to the rocks. In the middle the frozen and melted snow hung down in a curve like a graceful stalactite, and from its tip the water seeped drop by drop, glacier ice turned liquid.
– And the distances? – someone asked.
– The mountains must be respected. It is like another world. Here you are closer to heaven than you would think, but you may be farther from the next ridge than it looks. Distances are deceptive. Mountain people do not even measure distance in kilometres, but in time: a day's walk, half a day, an hour's climb… when I measure space in time, isn't that strange?
– And in winter?
Our guide kept silent and gripped his metal cup more tightly. Before he answered, he took a sip of his tea.
– In winter? I wouldn't advise it. Sometimes the mountains eat a man. For all your preparation, for all the waymarking stakes, braced and two men high, winter is winter. Here a snowfall can be fatal. Once I nearly perished up here myself… here you learn to pray.
By dusk we were back at the campsite. Everyone took a candle, and we lit them with ceremony. In the evening wind that climbed the mountainside, this was no easy task, but it was a most instructive experience. Sometimes the wind blew out the match, at other times it put out the flame of a candle that had already flared up. But when two or three people bundled their candles together, the wind no longer blew the flame out. Heartened by this, we all touched our candles together. The united flame was not merely a sum in numbers, but a strong light raised to a higher power. And a strong fire, which the wind may set flickering now and then, but can no longer put out. We gazed in silence at the host of candles strengthening one another. Such is belonging together: together we are stronger. Unity makes the fire, holding together gives warmth. Slowly the candles burned down, the fire died to ash, and the clouds began to gather again. It thundered and lightning flashed, and we caught a little rain, but this time most of it passed us by.
We soon went to our rest. I found myself wondering: what would it be like if this were my last day? If I had to lie down knowing that this was my last night. To lay my head down in peace, I would already have had to account for all my faults, to try, at least in thought, to settle my debts, and to entrust myself with a pure heart to divine Providence… all night long this went round in my head, and I dreamt of it.
I woke early the next day, and it had not been my last night after all. Now the air was sharper, the wind brisker, and the clouds were waltzing once again. The lower tufts of mist seemed to be launching an attack on the mountain, while the mountain's armies struck back from on high as a dark cloud. A matchless sight. Then we gathered our things, and today our young guide set off without a word, we following in his tracks. Perhaps his winter adventure was still on his mind. Meanwhile the fog came down suddenly, and because of it we seemed to lose our way over the last hundred metres, but perseverance and trust saw us through. Slowly we came back to the ordinary world, from a World that is very close to heaven…