The tarn below shimmered in the setting sun, it seemed like a small, burnished coin from the ridge, but I was soon enjoying the cool autumn breeze by its mossy shoreline after scrambling down from the heights, through scree and past the crumbling crags. A swim was due after making camp, and an enjoyable night ensued. Dawn saw me back on the imposing ridgeline above, gazing back down at the tarn, now bathed in a different light, no less beautiful. Twenty years on I’m a lot less cavalier above losing hard wonaltitude, yet the image of that place is still clear in my mind. It was time to revisit.