Into thin air

 Some mornings do start this way. Despite the near zero temperature outside, sweat rolled down my forehead, my knuckles had already turned white, and the Alto was gunning for another blind turn.

 One of those turns where on one side was atmosphere and on the other, a mighty mountain. One of those turns, at the apex of which you actually see the rich blue sky eye to eye.

 We were at Baralacha La, some 16,500 ft over the last tuna, where the air is so thin that not many birds, except I am sure, some insane kites fly.

 There was no road to drive on, but we sure were skimming through... no, caressing a man-made crease that only added to the voluptuous beauty of the Himalayan range.

 There was no time to think of the wife and two kids back home, there was no time to listen to navigator Sameer either