Skier & Writer
Much like a person on drugs, my mind was consumed by the frozen dairy treat. I could only make barely understandable comments about how fantastic the dessert was in between licks, oblivious to the world around me, losing track of time and space as I became one with the food. Little did I know evil forces were spying from above on my every bite, every movement, and calculating their attack.
The four of us sat in the car at the trailhead in Glencoe, questioning what to do. We watched dozens of tourists exit their tour buses, snap a few photos, and return to the bus completely soaked. Climbing was ruled out after some deliberation, so we drove to Glencoe Village for lunch, turned the car around, and decided to return to Edinburgh with our tails between our legs. Scotland's weather was simply too mean, but I'm sure that if you can get to West Scotland on a clear day, it is probably one of the most beautiful views in the world.
After the marathon, Davinia's dad took us on a small road trip all around the Lake District, with stops in Barrow-in-Furness, Kirkstone Pass, Glenridding, and, as a perfect post-marathon walk, Easedale Tarn by way of Grasmere. The rocky green hills and lakes were awesome to see, and definitely got me excited for my indefinite time here in England.
The next day, we drove back to Osh, but we had significantly better weather compared to when I drove this route in the other direction a week before. This made the stop at Kara Kul lake absolutely fantastic.
We arrived late in Murghab, just as it was completely dark, and went to the soldier's home, where a lot of his extended family was there to greet him. It was heartwarming to see such a return, and they welcomed Sailaubai and I in for the best two bowls of shorpa I had in Central Asia.
Anyhow, I now have a scar from the time I was in a bazaar in the neutral territory between Tajikistan and Afghanistan and got run over by a wheelbarrow.
