Sitting in his room on a particularly cold and dark night at the birth of a new year, his mind had transported him back to those long and warm summer afternoons. He wished he was there now, sitting at the entrance to his tent, gazing out across the bay to the island and its mountains in the distance; their rugged peaks reflected in the still blue waters; their crevices leaking mist and cloud. He could almost smell the salt of the water; could almost hear the gentle waves washing the sand and shingle up and down the beach. O, how he wished he were sitting there, with these sounds, with these smells, with that warmth, and with that vista.