We traveled up the treacherous road to the top of the windy mountain as it neared evening. As we pulled to the top of the hill, the sun was just setting behind the mountains, making the sky a brilliant orange. The kurdish ranger allowed us to pitch our tent on the top of the mountian, and he entertained us long into the night with his talk of multiple wives. Just as we were settling down for the night, a group of Turks settled right next to us, and with their loud banter kept us awake all night. We got up at the wee hours of the morning in the frigid air to watch the sunrise. The Euphrates sparkled below as the statues of kings and eagles gave a mystical aura to the view.

All at once I felt a sort of awe for the relics that connected that age to ours. Mt. Nimrod was far from dissapointing, it was inspiring.