Black ink line drawing of a snow-capped mountain with a tent at its base and a small campfire with curling smoke, drawn on grey paper.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mountain, tent and campfire line drawing

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A simple ink drawing of a tall, peaked mountain with a smaller secondary peak. A small tent sits at the base on a horizon line, with a campfire beside it and wisps of smoke curling up the mountain's right side. The linework is clean and single weight, with hatched shading on the left slope and open white space above and around the scene, centred on a plain grey background.

Fine line Mountain Tent Campfire Smoke

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tent had been pitched on the wrong side of the ridge for two days before Ruth went down to ask about it. Nobody camped under Carn Dubh in October. The wind came over the top in one long pour and packed grit into the bothy's gutters, and the only walkers who stayed in the valley were the ones who had been told the mountain was not for them.

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She took a flask and a spare gas canister and walked the scree path with her collar up. The tent was green, mended at one corner with silver tape, and a fire the size of a dinner plate burned on a ring of wet stones. A man sat beside it feeding sticks in one at a time, the way you feed something you do not want to startle. He did not look up. He said his sister had gone over the top in the spring to see the far lochs and had promised to come back down the north side, and that he lit the fire each evening so the ridge would know someone was still waiting at the bottom. Ruth poured him the tea she had brought and said nothing about the weather, which was the kindest thing she could think of.

The next evening she carried her own stove out to the bothy step and lit it, mostly to have something to do with her hands. The smoke went straight up for a while, then leaned east toward the saddle where the cloud was breaking. She watched it until her fingers stung.

In the logbook, under wind speed and rainfall, she wrote: Smoke at the base camp, dusk. Smoke again on the north col, a minute later. Then she closed the book and went out to check whether the lamp was still lit in the window.