This is perhaps my very best winter holiday story. I wrote this for an author's holiday/winter weather challenge on Storiesonline and it does nearly everything right. I jumped through a dozen hoops to get this story done in time for LitErotica's 2009 Holiday Story Contest a few days later and I did send it in on time only to have it 'Disapproved' five days later under a trivial technicality. I fixed the problem fast and returned it the same day ... but The Queen didn't notice it again in the moderation queue for nearly another week, long after the contest deadline was over. Grrrrr! She told me later that had this story been posted in time, that it 'probably would have won.' I could also probably turn this into a screwy geology-porn adventure novel someday and I do have a few ideas about a sequel... .
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Richard the Third Act 1, scene 1, 1–8
In the introduction to the Yes song "South Side of the Sky" during a 2003 concert at the Montreux Jazz Festival, Jon Anderson said, "This is a song about climbing mountains ... It's dangerous, but we all must climb mountains every day."