Short Story: Magic In The Mountains

Short Story: Magic In The Mountains

We once rode the tiny train from the little station at Kliene Sheidegg up to the summit of the Eiger. The old wood gleams in the brittle light and metal on the locks and catches twinkles in the unsullied sun. Tiny alpine flowers prick the grass and make one think of glamorous nuns, singing children and just how old exactly is Christopher Plummer now.

Breathless drops and soaring cliffs tease your eyes and heart as the little contraption climbs the heights until of a sudden you are plunged into the tunnel. There are windows in the sides of the mountain. Did you know that? you may well, I didn’t and I found it astounding.

Two stops on the way and then we emerged onto the peak. The Eiger, the Monch and the Jungfrau, a glorious trio reaching up touching heaven and we standing fog breathed and awestruck as a tiny climber traversed the snow field. His red clothing was blood on the snow, and all of us eye glued to his journey, envying his confidence, his freedom and his nerve.

We walked under the glacier, who knew that the light inside a glacier is an enchanted blue, I didn’t. So much to absorb and wonder at, so much to fill your eyes and mesmerize your brain. It was a tremendous trip it really was.

I have been lucky, I have seen the green flash at sunset, the rainbow of fishes playing on a coral reef, I have swum in The Red, The Dead and The Med. All amazing experiences but one thing, one thing that will stay with me till I leave this life and that is that there are butterflies; tiny yellow scraps of things against the windows, there are butterflies in the belly of the Eiger.

The world is truly full of wonder.