an unlikely pilgrimage

In a faraway land, where I once lived, a cave sits on the steep hillside above a dark lake.

More than a thousand years ago, a saint lived in this cave. The hillside is impossibly steep and treacherous and the cave is said to be unreachable except by boat - and there are no boats on the lake anymore.

But on dark nights, over too much red wine and whiskey, one or two of my many intrepid friends have whispered to me of a secret path that winds along the lake shore to the cave - difficult to walk, dangerous too, but not impossible if you have courage.

One of my stranger dreams is to find this hidden path and make my way to the saint's dwelling. To reach this wild, impossible place at the end of the world. I may never get the chance - after all, I live two thousand miles from there - but it doesn't really matter in the end. Having this secret plan seems important.