A Hokkaido Mountain Morning
We pitched camp on top of a ridge a few hundred feet below the summit of Mt. Ashibestsu and spent 14 hours in Mark's saggy tent, cooking pots of miso soup and poking our heads out every hour or so to see if the skies had cleared. The wind never let up all night long and sleep came in fits and starts, but at 4 am I looked outside and there were stars blinking and the peak was clear and we piled outside shivering and stamping as clouds boiled up out of the valley. The world was suddenly colorful and wide open again.