Moving on to the always enthralling views from the summit of Zealand, where a freshly scrawled "Jah Rastafari" decorated the summit sign, a sure sign that the local Cigar Smokers have been making good use of the summit smokehole. Not one to tarry, I scuttled on down over the bouldery goodness that is the Twinway, creeping into Zealand Hut for a smackerel of water. Here is another area that I am diligently working on perfecting; the Ninja style pre-dawn hut visit. The object is to carefully and quietly sneak into the hut of choice, oh-so-carefully making your way around the overflow victims strewn about the floor, snuggled in their matching LL Bean sleep accessories and Bose noise-cancelling headphones. I find it's very difficult to avoid smearing the sides of their bags with the gooey mixture of mud and vaseline that tends to cake up on the backs of my ankles. Getting the water is where it really gets tricky. Zippers zip. Faucets drip. And a sea of moaning bodies and twisting nylon grumble in unison. The shame only an early morning spoiler can feel. Next