I’m walking in nearly complete darkness, only able to navigate thanks to my head lamp. As I come around a bend in the road, there’s a gap in line of trees along the right hand side, their black silhouettes dropping away to reveal the view. This is what I had been hoping to find when I ventured out of camp, so stop and turn off the light. In front of me lies the valley, almost not recognizable compared with its daytime self. The night sky, almost but not completely black, is studded with stars. The dark outline of a low hill in the middle distance; spots of light scattered sparsely across it, each little cluster signifying a farmhouse. Behind it, the orange glow of a town. At this distance you can’t make out any shapes – it’s barely visible in the daylight- but the light radiating skywards marks its location like a beacon. There are thousands of pinpricks of brightness within that diffuse radiance; each one denoting a single streetlight, a single lighted window, or the headlights of car. I don’t know if it’s an illusion, but from where I’m standing, they seem to be twinkling like distant fireflies. It’s funny when you come to think of it, you come out here to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but once you’re up here, looking down at the city lights from the stillness of the mountain, it’s actually quite beautiful.