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Tim Gardiner

Temperance Hotel

In the summer of 1901 I’m sent to the summit hotel on Ben Nevis. There’ll be no temptation they said, the sisters run a strict regime. Weekly reports are sent to mother in Fort William. After a dry month I ask a pony guide to bring some whisky up. The illicit deal done, I sneak out in the afternoon away from the watchful sisters and sup the contraband by Five Finger Gulley.   

brocken spectre
on the cloud
below the ridge –
I’d piss on my halo
if I could stand up

There’s no chance of companionship up here. The sisters have been warned about my fragile moods and quick temper, so say little. There’s not much wildlife either, save for the odd snow bunting and distant eagle. I’m quite fond of butterflies but the gothic plateau seems too barren for them, the climate just too harsh. Inclement Rag knew this well, his observatory weather records are exhaustive. I think of ending it all; a leap from the cliffs and two thousand feet of freedom should do it.    

north face
a cricket leaps
into the mist –
I just can’t part
with a fine malt 

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About the Author

Dr. Tim Gardiner is an ecologist, editor, poet and children’s author from Manningtree in Essex, UK. He has been widely published in journals and anthologies. Former co-editor of the tanka prose section of Haibun Today with Tish Davis.