I was as far from the van as I’d get that day and walking round the edge of the plateau as the sun dropped behind the islands was just lovely.
I sat for a while in a gap in some rocks until it was dark with a cuppa and snacks and then headed for my planned descent line.
It misted up quickly once the sun was gone and when I got to my line through the steep crags my headtorch was staring into a swirling grey abyss between the damp rocks under my feet.
I did not fancy that at all, especially not solo.
Back up I went, then across a snowfield in the dark and finally a dip out of the mist into cold clear air and the main track out.
The right choices might not make for the most exciting stories, but maybe they’re the ones we should tell.
