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“The tiny tea-shop beside the eleven water spouts was at the edge of the Dhorpatan Valley. From there we could see right across the wide, wind-swept peat-bog. The high mountain ridges that walled in the valley seemed to catch the rain and send it down here. Even the air we were breathing was wet.
Golden eagles played on the updrafts. Two, one a little smaller than the other, circled on a thermal. They looked huge, but when others disappeared behind a mountain ridge, I realised they were further away and even bigger than I first thought.
The nearest eagles half folded their wings and plummeted earthwards, still circling each other as they dived head first. They touched claws as they spiralled down, in complete control.”
― Jane Wilson-Howarth, Himalayan Hostages