Overnight stay under Oshten

Outside, it's about 7 degrees Celsius. The complete silence is broken only by the rustle of the tent fly under the occasional gusts of wind, pushing clouds toward the mountain peaks. Sometimes it seems you can even hear the wind from up there. But that's just a trick of the mind.

Underfoot, it's pitch black. My eyes can barely make out anything beyond a couple of meters. Yet the sky delights with its closeness: the stars feel as if they're within reach, like a very high ceiling. Jupiter is like a distant lightbulb that illuminates nothing but glares faintly when you look directly at it. And, of course, the Milky Way, which needs no description.

So I stood there, gazing at all this splendor, and felt a pang of sympathy for the many who have never seen this in their lives.