Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Hills upon Zakynthos
There is something about this party, whenever it starts out on a journey ...
The wind steadily increases throughout the morning, as the party finds the way up above the plains to be fairly easy going. The mountains are clothed in gentle slopes, but the upper portions are like teeth rising out of the earth, with precipitous cliffs and rounded tops. I understood the party to be on horseback, so it takes only a couple of hours to ascend to where you're a thousand feet above the sea ... but then the storm envelops you and you can hardly see down into the valley.
The party must seek shelter, and the only shelter consists of folds in the skirted heath that surrounds the base of the mountains. These folds, however, are deep in places, twenty or thirty feet, so as you lead your horses into them, the wind is cut away and only the steady rain remains.
About three hundred feet above you, also in the defile and near where a cliff strikes up into the sky, the party - in their wet misery - can see something huge and shaggy. It shudders from time to time, sending a burst of water off its body and into the air, like an enormous round dog.