Dawn comes at a little past 7am, when the early September sun pokes its head over the ridges east of the northern Georgian town of Stepantsminda, and paints the glaciers and knife edges of Mount Kazbek in hues of peach and magenta.
On the wooden deck where I stand, shivering, I alternate blowing the steam off a cup of coffee with struggling to capture the glorious light on my phone or in scribbles in a notebook.
