text: Ayanda wakes to the buzzing at her left ear. She attempts to swat in that direction, and her hand hits a bed-fellow. Retrieving the empty bottle from between the sheets, she stretches and cautiously open both eyes. The angry sounds of the wind of the previous night made way for high-rising clouds. The sun peeking below, is burning the tips of her toes. The buzzing returns, and this time her aim is spot-on. She angrily tosses the stained pillow to the side and swing her legs from the bed. She reaches for her gown, and silently hopes she did not take nude selfies again. Opening the blinds, she can see the valley is covered in yellow and orange ribbons. After one month in this place, this is only the second time nature is in a flamboyant mood. She is scanning the landscape as the coffee starts to brew. Looking through the kitchen window, a very different scene intrigues her. Tree roots are overturned. Branches are strewn over the pathway to the garden. And the wall of the fishpond gave way under the pressure. The front driveway is covered in debris and dead fish. The sight of two old lizards on top of the garage roof, signals the temperature. She is definitely changing her plan for the day. After a quick shower, and a few responses to emails, she locates her camera. Scrolling through the last pictures, she smiles. As she deletes the evidence of her one-woman party, she calculates the days left on this journey. The only time she feels excited about this mission, is when she adjusts her lens on this camera, and is witness to the creation of unfading memories. Lying on her stomach, the cool of the floor was soothing. The light from the wide window is too bright, but then suddenly she is able to capture the flight of a mosquito. It is flying dangerously close to the spider web, but safely reaches the side of the television set. Instantly adjusting the lens, she is able to see the bent body and wide tentacles, which are moving around the surface. The taste of disappointment results in a quick flight towards the roof. Looking at the image, she sees that she only captured parts of the back legs. Her position is making her nauseous. She steps out onto the balcony. The air chokes her with force. She runs to the bathroom as the convulsions shakes her and drained the fluids from her body. Closing all the blinds, she curses her decision not to pack a fan. She feels the bite of the mosquito on her left foot and lazily makes a motion. And then darkness surrounds her. Ayanda jumps up in fear. Looking at the clock, she can see that she was asleep for about three hours. Her back aches, as she lifts herself from the damp floor. The cool of the water glass reminds her that the heat is receding. Then a loud bang! The glass falls to the floor. Then another loud bang! She read about the ‘The loud voice of God’ in the Valley Magazine. But this thunder is definitely a shout from God! It is the most awesome phenomenon, and one she knows everyone in her profession always wanted to capture. But unlike the other elements of nature, thunder cannot be captured through sight, or its effect on other matter. She grabs a left-over sandwich from the fridge and reclaim her spot on the floor. She hears the wind picking up speed outside, and opens the blinds. Dark clouds are climbing over the East View mountains. Their approach is fast and heavy. She grabs her camera, and as if to sense her joy, they change direction. They start to move to the north and as the grey mountain is released, it appears to take a breath and then swell out again, and shake off the effects of the choking clouds. The sound of another thunderstorm is a big surprise. In her sight she still has clearing skies. And then she turns to the left. A huge cloud is forming on top of Riverview Mountain. And as it is gathering wind and speed, it soon deposits loud icy drops of hail against the windows. Just before it passes, it releases water so clear, that she feels as if she is inside a waterfall. Her camera cannot click fast enough. And then it decides to move on. The silence is almost ominous. She waits there in front of the window until she hears the sound of the black-billed magpie signalling that the storm has passed. Reaching for the switch, she is instantly irritated. The storm caused a power outage. Luckily, the geyser is still working. Running a bath, she lights some candles. She found a battery-operated radio when she arrived. She retrieves it now from the bedroom. Slipping into the lavender foam, the sounds of The Crusaders caress her tense body. She wakes to a beautiful, calm and sunny day. Adding salt to a boiled egg, she decides that it is safe to take a walk towards the stream she so adores. It is an underground stream, and only reveals itself for ten metres at the base of the vineyard. When it reaches the last line of vines, it goes underground again, to moisturize the roots which produce the rich Chardonnay. She is mesmerized by the view which stretches all the way to the peninsula. She is focusing so hard on getting the perfect angle, that she does not see the newly exposed root. As the ground reaches up to meet her face, she closes her eyes. This is not the first time that she will return to the cottage in such a condition. And then she sees the crack on the side of her camera. Crawling to where it landed, she investigates the damage. Nothing else is loose or appears to be damaged. But the crack on the tube adapter is worrying her. Suddenly darkness surrounds her. A mist crept up on her. Looking around, she realizes that she cannot see her path back to the cottage. If she goes in the wrong direction, she may end up quite far down the mountain. She is also not sure if it is a passing mist or the prelude to a storm. Ayanda read many books about the weather in these mountains. She remembers that the mist is always described as something which normally passes quickly. The advice given is to remain in one position, preferably seated, until it has passed. It is never safe to move, especially if you are unfamiliar with the terrain. She also knows that she is not the waiting type. Securing the camera in its bag, she takes a sip from her water bottle and sits down. Perhaps it is a good idea to stay put. The mist is thicker now. She is not even able to see the stream, or the root which caused her fall. The cold travels through her clothes. It moves over her scalp. Then it caresses her fingers, leaving them stiff and swollen. She closes her eyes. The wet which rises from the ground is numbing her feet. And then her patience is gone! She puts both hands on the muddy ground and lift herself to a standing position. And, what do you know? The mist is gone. The shine of the peninsula in the distance is brighter, and the stream is continuing its journey undeterred. The path to the cottage is clear, and the walk back has never been faster. Ayanda is uploading the images, when her eye catches one sent to her by the helicopter crew. She missed the trip to the mountain earlier in the month. What she sees now in front of her, is almost unbelievable. In the picture, the crew is facing the camera. They are standing with their back to the valley, covered by dark clouds. The same picture is on their website’s home page, with the caption ‘ We fly above the storm’ . Something in the background holds her attention. There, in the distance she can make out the roof of the cottage. If this picture is authentic, it means that, if she can get to the top of that mountain, she will be able to take pictures of a storm, as it crosses over the valley. And she will be on top of the storm! She browses the website for more pictures and finds further confirmation that being on the outside of the storm, is indeed possible. She runs to the balcony, and looks up at the sky. All is quiet, and the sky is the brightest blue. She packs the camera, loads extra batteries and slips on a pair of sneakers. The hike should take an hour, but if she jogs, she can certainly make it in half that time. She reaches the top forty minutes later. With sweat running down her arms and legs, and her chest threatening to explode, she turns around. And there it is. She is standing on the highest peak, on the top of this valley, lush with life. In the distance, the cottage looks forlorn. Taking off her backpack, she stretches her arms, and screams as loud as she can. And then she sees it. From the East View mountain, a dangerous-looking cloud formation is approaching the valley. She steadies the tripod, adjusts the lens, and click the ‘Record’ button. She sits down. Here on this majestic mountain, high above the valley, almost touching the sky, she is witness to a most amazing experience. This storm which can rattle windows, roofs and the weakest of human minds is about to be humbled. This raging energy is about to be subdued by nature’s very own laws. The wind is picking up. Even from this distance, she can feel the wind strengthening with every distance captured. Within minutes the valley is covered in a grey blanket. She can see the sparks of lightning speeding up the pace of the storm. She is holding onto the tripod as the wind declares its power over the trees. Rain starts to pour down. In this moment she realizes that she, Ayanda Gaul, is sitting on the highest mountain peak, the sole witness of an experience others can only imagine. She feels exhilaration, and so completely part of the abundance of nature’s power and strength. And as the storm refuses to follow a familiar path, and chooses to focus on her, she raises her arms, and fully accept the deadly embrace.