Two exhausting hours later, a rough wooden cross materializes out of the fog and the path widens to what, for all you can see could be either a narrow ledge or a vast plateau. A monk's shape slips through the fog. His grey cowl frames a finely chiseled face that can not have seen more than thirty years. This hermit has a warm smile and piercing black eyes. He leads you across the ledge into his shelter. You quickly fall asleep. When you awake it is still night, but there is a dim bright-ness all around you. You make your way out of the shelter towards the light.