There I stood, a solitary and susceptible figure surveying the innumerable layers of abstracted peaks - the surviving pillars of stability standing strong against a world brutally dominated by mankind. Boundless prospects beckon before me as I gaze bewitched across a landscape permanently altered by glaciation. Straths and glens tear through the scene as the shadowing silhouettes of abundant behemoths lacerate the crystal clear sky, casting long shadows across the lower plains. Snowfields nestle against the hillsides, glistening delicately in the late afternoon sunlight. I feel tranquil here, and a wave of belonging ripples silently through my senses.

For us the mountains offer an experience so liberating and prodigious that it cannot be named. When we try and describe it, we find only that it cannot be described. The fundamental concept of this principle is something that we can barely scratch the surface of, let alone begin to comprehend. It's about the feeling of pushing yourself forward, and driving on where others may falter. It's about the exploration of unity and yourself, and of the challenges that both present. It's about the feel of the wind in your hair, and the glide of the snow under your skis. Leaving the known and entering the realms of the offbeat; the intimidating and the exhilirating. The mountains are about more than what just the everyday world can provide us, because while standing on that remote mountain top everything becomes clear. When reduced to its essence it's about one thing: freedom.