Primordial rivers of stone loomed overhead, frozen midflight by some sort of Medusian sorcery. I could feel them leaning toward us, pockmarked and dark.
I dangled out the bus window and sniffed the air. It was damp, earthy, and green. Inside the bus were nine other Kilimanjaro trekkers (also somewhat damp, earthy, and green!), four guides, a handful of porters, and many rucksacks.
