What a glorious morning. It had been very cold at night with clear skies, which meant that there was a lovely morning mist that I got to admire through the car window, as I was speeding down to my spot. For many years now I’ve been wanting to take a morning light picture of the Mittåkläppen fell with the Mittån creek in the foreground, and today was the day! It was amazing, I could maybe complain that the colours are mostly gone now but I really don’t bother. Sunny and calm with the lingering mist cloud kissing the top of the mountain, how can I complain about that?
On the way to Djupdalsvallen I spotted a small tarn which might provide some reflection pictures of Mittåkläppen so I tried it. Turns out that it was pretty good actually, but by now the clouds were moving in and the sun was already veiled, so I didn’t get the best possible light. Better than nothing though, and it didn’t take long before the clouds completely took over. I drove to Djupdalsvallen to have my waffle, knowing that the day had already given me its best. I came to the conclusion that all it really takes is one minute of good light so you get that keeper that you wanted. The only trick is to choose the right minute and the right place.
Although the light was gone, I did some random walking around to scout a little. In the middle of it, I got a message from my sister, saying that mother is feeling quite poorly. My heart just sank and my thoughts circled around these bad news. When I was driving back to the cabin, I used cold reason to get control over my emotions. I feel awful that I am so far away from her but what can I do? I’m going to get there on Sunday, so even if I would change all my plans and rush to Finland, I could really only get there one day earlier than planned. Only one day. And if I’m not going to rush there, what should I do with this time I have before going to Finland? Drive home and feel sorry for myself? Or do the last hike tomorrow as planned?
When I was walking today, I came across three ladies having lunch. They asked me if I was hiking alone. Yes, I told them. I know it’s not the safest option every time, but the alternative is to live in fear and stay at home.
Life, as I am now learning, is a precious thing. I have to live it. The time for sorrow will come.