Chapter 3

What could I do now? Was there another place on this island that I could try to go to, not back to the main part to wait for the winter to kill me, not back to the cave of skulls to wait for whatever horrors were lurking there to overcome me?

I had little hope to find anything better, but then I had little else to do but explore my surroundings. It was still rather early in the morning — my climb down, my swim, my visit of the cave, my encounter with the mysterious stranger, my climb up, my masturbating — all this, measured by the sun's inexorable progress on its eternal orbit, had not taken much time.

From the point at which I stood, the rim of the precipice above the bay, the only passable route led back to the saddle, and after wrapping my feet in the shreds of my dress again I took it. From the saddle, I could turn left to the North or right to the South — in both directions the ground rose steeply, and progress would be difficult, but not impossible.

I drank water from the spring and ate some of the sweet fruits, and then I arbitrarily chose one of the two directions, South, and then I just kept walking, or climbing where it was necessary. After a while, it was past noon, I got above the tree line, and I had a great view over most of the island — I enjoyed it, but it did not tell me much I hadn't known before. I could see the summit in front of me, and I reached it after another hour or two — I did not try hard to guess the time, as it had little importance for me.

When I arrived at my goal, I saw that I had not gained anything useful — below me lay the sea, no land or islands in sight, and in all directions but the one I had come bare rock sloped down steeply. To an experienced climber these rocks might provide a viable descent, but if I were to try it, I would very probably fall to my death — and, there was nothing to make me believe that down there would be anything worth taking the effort, and the risk.

Turning around, I could see where the saddle was, and the insection that led to the precipice above the bay, and behind the saddle I could see the other shoulder of the mountain range rising to about the same height as the one upon which I was standing.

From what I could see, this other shoulder held no promises that it might have more to offer than this one had, but still I felt the urge to visit it. Checking the position of the sun, I decided I'd be able to reach the summit before the night, and maybe even make it back to the saddle — if not, the thought of spending the night in the open, the hard rock below me, the crescent moon and the distant stars above, held no fear, as long as the weather was mild and calm.

This, in fact, was how it turned out — when I had reached the northern summit and found it to be identical, in almost every respect, to its southern twin, I saw that dusk would fall soon, and anyway I was so exhausted that I thought it better to rest for the night than to descend the cragged path with weak legs and in near darkness.

The night was uncomfortable, I was hungry, thirsty and cold, but it was beautiful too, to see the sun sink into the sea in the West, to see the almost full moon take its path across the sky, to be so close to the stars of which there seemed to be so many more here than I had ever seen before, and finally to see the sun rise from the sea again in the East.

My own mountain, on my own island, I smiled, even though I knew that they would not be mine for long; nothing would.

I rose with the sun, turned towards it and took off my jacket, and spread my arms to take in its rays with my whole body, then I did some exercises to get warm, put on my jacket again, and started my descent towards the saddle — what I would do once I got there, after drinking and eating a breakfast of fruits, I did not care to think about.

What it was that caught my attention, already back down below the tree line, I cannot really tell. The route that I had followed I thought of as a path, but it was not a path made by man, it was just as if the mountain and the trees themselves suggested a trail for the wanderer to follow. And here, branching off to the left, was something that looked like a trail leading nowhere.

Nowhere was as good a place to go to as any other to me, so I turned left, and climbed down a scarp overgrown with thicket, and then I stood at the mouth of a small cave. I went in, and waited until my eyes adapted to the darkness, to be relieved that it held no skulls or bones or heathen idols, but also to be disappointed that it held nothing useful, either. Just a small cave, a good shelter against a thunderstorm, but no place to survive a winter.