At some point in the distant past, planetary nausea triggered a spew of subterranean chunder. The blow was horrific enough to empty a mountain of structural support, causing it to collapse into its own throat.
Although the day had seemed long, most of it was spent sitting in a cramped position. We had ridden several hours by bus, waited for official clearance at Londorossi Gate, reboarded and ridden for what seemed to be another hour on the bumpiest road yet. It was mid-afternoon when we finally arrived at the drop-off point beneath the Shira Ridge.