At 11,000 feet up and 16 miles of rugged terrain away, one’s notion of shelter is significantly altered.
Door, wall, window, roof, and floor become minimal diaphanous membranes between inside and out.
It rains, snows, and hails. The sun shines fiercely, clearly and bright. A cloud or shadow changes the temperature by several degrees in an instant.
At 11,000 feet up and 16 miles away we recognize that shelter starts at the skin. Bumps, burns, scrapes, blisters and tears take on far greater seriousness.
Shelter is built layer by layer away from our bodies. It protects us and brings us together under one “roof”. And then we realize we need to get along with each other.
Ultimately, we are all under one, great, sheltering sky.