First Light over Annapurna
Dawn was my favourite time.
I’d wake in the dark of night to take a path out of the village, each time in a different direction. Sometimes there was a moon sometimes not, but it was always quiet.
When the first faint light appeared I would stop, look up and wait. I’d try to guess which would be the first peak to light up. Shapes and shadows, dark to light, black to white as the day dawned over the mountains of Annapurna.
It was pure joy, a spectacle of light so full of drama it was sublime.
Sometimes small clouds would cling to the peak, as the sun touched it they appeared to burn or steam away. Pink light creeping over fresh snow or clean bright light in which each crease of snow and crag of rock became defined.