A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.
I finally find my piece of grass and put the tent up, I lean against a nearby rock and don't move much for the next hour. When I do move it's to get in the tent, it's now 6.30, and I don't come out again until 8.00am the next morning. It's not that I sleep it's just that I'm so tired. When I take my shoes off I discover that I've got a huge blister on each foot and I haven't even noticed - other bits of me were hurting more ;-)
This is the view from the tent. It's a fabulous spot at just about 2,200m - I'm surrounded by mountains and there's not a soul in sight; the silence is crystalline and palpable and made yet more dense by the occasional screech of what might be a bird or perhaps a marmot. But frankly I'm too tired to care which.