Sun dips below the horizon, and treats us to another peaches and cream lightshow. In the golden dusk we look for somewhere to pitch our tents and wood for our fire. Light dwindles and camp is set, methodical and automatic, a well rehearsed set of economical movements unthought but precise, like a sodlier cleaning his gun. Blinfolded by dusk, tent poles are clicked together and pegs placed with little attention.
As the twigs and logs crackle and damp socks slowly steam dry, two tired boys watch the sparks trace skywards, past the canopy of branches and out towards a star studded midnight blue sky. The moon is out, glowing full and cool. Little is said as dinner sizzles, after 15months not much needs to be said now, and the silence is golden. Both ponder the day`s sights and highlights, lost in a train of thought trailing 26,000kms eastwards around the globe.
Increasingly, this ribbon of thought is interrupted with a question… what next? Indeed, what next… what next.
For the moment, we´re just content that for now, we´re two lucky bastards.