Reposting with photos corrected…
Spring comes, and I begin my regular pilgrimage towards the highest peaks on earth. About 35 hours from home on one side of the planet to a hotel on the other.
Across the ocean, time pauses in Hong Kong airport. Layovers are like living in suspended animation…Hours of stillness, watching the planes come and go, watching the people come and go, watching the sun come and go. From the shroud of 5 am haze until the warm gold 5 pm glow, I sleep, eat, stretch, drink coffee, wander, read, text, cull photos, take photos, and indulge in a deep bowl of luscious, steaming ramen soup. Enforced pause. Nothing to do, nowhere to be.
It’s a familiar routine at the start of the season, and transit is a time to recalibrate and enter another existence. After almost a year in San Francisco, I welcome the return to mountains, mysticism, and mayhem.
