Matrei, Austria (20/8/07)

Lying in bed in Austria. I’ve come here many times in my mind, but it’s not the same. In between silences and language barriers, I catch glimpses of me. Traipsing, trying, tired. Excited, naïve, unsettled. Carlisle is a fragment of a past life and I don’t miss it at all. Before me, mountains shrouded in mist loom in the distance. This place – Matrei – clothed in fog and rainfall, seems transient and intangible.

My rucksack and khaki's are beside the bed. Time seems to stand still in this place and it’s like I’m here, but I’m not here. This small village is ephemeral and I am content to remain in this room without itinerary or the need to muddy my mountain boots because my bed cradles me in warmth. I lie here in boxer shorts. I'm scribbling into a journal and for a moment, the mountains, the mist and the next days’ walking are but an after thought.