The ground moves in a blur under my feet as I take step after step over water-worn rocks. Ahead of me stands a small wooden bridge, spanning the width of a frozen river. In the heart of winter all that’s there is a trickle of water, framed by ice.
Trailing behind me are my fellow travelers. While a couple are keeping pace, cameras at their side, the stragglers fall further and further behind while their voices grow closer and angrier. Eventually their voices stop all together as they retreat back to the parking lot.
The rest of us continue on and we reach yet another wooden bridge, this time spanning a crack in the Earth. The trickle of water we saw before was replaced by piercing blue water streaming over all sides into a churning amalgam of ice, color, and water.
The last light of the day hit illuminated the blue ice,
and for a moment we had this all to ourselves.
At first glance traveling with friends seems like something fun; after all if you can study together, eat together, go out together, and basically spend every waking moment without any complaints, what could go wrong?
But friendships can be fragile. Sometimes it’s just a matter of our perspectives. Sometimes it takes a car being blown off the highway.