The Alpine Morning: Bells, mist, and unhurried height

Edwin Marsh

High pastures wake slowly, with mist still caught in the hollows and bells drifting up from somewhere below. This is a climb without hurry: the sound of hooves on stone, the hush that settles above the treeline, and the particular quiet of air thin enough to make you notice every breath. No summit to chase, just height, mist, and the patient ring of bells carrying up through the morning. Calm, spacious, and content to let the mountain set the pace.