During my expedition to the Himalayas, I was surprised to hear the Yeti is looked upon as a creature that guards the mountain's pristine environment.

The ride is about the yeti, and our story is about our interaction with that yeti. When we get on this train and we go up into the forbidden mountain domain of the yeti, he destroys the track ,and the thrill part of our ride is escaping the wrath of the yeti as we return to civilization.

There is indeed a legend of a yeti, or abominable snowman, that is considered the protector of the Himalayas.

Listen to me. Love is a Yeti. It is bigger than you and frightening and terrible. It makes loud and vicious noises. It is hungry all the time. It has horns and teeth and the force of its fists is more than anyone can bear. It speeds up time and slows it down. And it has its own aims and missions that those who are lucky enough to see it cannot begin to guess. You might see a Yeti once in your life or never. You might live in a village of them. But in the end, not matter how fast you think you can go, the Yeti is always faster than you, and you can only choose how you say hello to it, and whether you shake its hand.

We go to the mountain for enlightenment, for self-realization, for adventure, for discovery. It's pregnant with meaning. When people see a mountain, they invest it with meaning. Not plot. Not character.

There are details within details within details to anchor you in the fact that we are talking about the real world, not an illustrated children's book fantasy world.