14 September, 2017

I awoke in the morning to a clear sky and fresh mountain air. The temperature was cool and the town still lay asleap as I walked through the old stone buildings. Overlooking everything, the mountain stood proudly on the horizon.

Making my way through the windy dirt roads, I came across an old friend (the pig from a few days ago) as well as a particularly loud sheep.

But after a quick greeting, I began the ascent, reaching the church in just 40 minutes and already breaking into a sweat. It was alright though, I had a liter sized water bottle full of coffee with me, so fatigue was not going to settle in today. I was already moving much faster than last year and nature appeared to be in my favor. Quickly, I snapped a photo and set in the direction upward.

Soon, the trees diminished and the terrain grew increasingly rocky. Along the path, tired fools stopped and rested (clearly they forgot to pack unhealthy amounts of coffee like me) as I rapidly powered through like a goat. But soon, I noticed something. A minor make-shift shrine stood out on an overpass. This was the spot where I had to turn back and flee for my life last year. I was going to pass it and go farther. I was going to see new parts of the mountain that I never had before! And I was only three hours in, leaving my 25-year old former self in the dust. Finishing the liter of coffee, I proudly stood on the overpass and looked out at the glorious rocky nature ahead. I was going for it all, and nothing was going to stop me this time!

Crossing the overpass, I began a minor descent before inevitably going upward once again. Grass and plant life had completely vanished by this point and had been replaced by dirt and rocks. However, the view was far from bleak. So many colors of stone (including nearly every shade of purple and red) surrounded me in the form of a towering canyon. The full face of the mountain lay ahead while a tumbling glacial stream ran its way through the valley below. And there, finally visible, stood the glacier and base camp. My destination was in sight.

Cruising past rock after rock, eyes bulging from excess caffeine in my bloodstream, I soon approached something unexpected: a river from the mountain runoff. How was I to get across? Was nature yet again trying punish me for my hubris? Maybe I could try to wade across and hope not to get pulled away in the current, I thought. But just as these reckless ideas were entering my head, I found my solution. Someone had created a makeshift bridge out of an old ladder. Unsturdy? Yes. But better than my ideas? Absolutely yes. I put one foot on and it began to shake. Then I put on the second and it shook more. Trying to scare me, Mr. Ladder? Think again! Today is my day and I shall pass!

Soon, I was on the other side. Now it was just a straightforward, very rocky path to the glacier. I was going to do it, barring any sudden catastrophe like an earthquake or animal attack. But that did not happen! 30 minutes later, I stood by the glacier triumphantly. Toes had been stubbed, skin had been sunburned, heart valves had been damaged by caffeine, by I had my redemption! Plunging my hand into the glacial lake, I took in the fresh mountain air and wonder of my surrounding. I was here, alone and away from civilization. No cars. No people. No industry. Just a man on a mountain! It had been done.

Finally, I took one last parting shot of the mountain before beginning an uneventful descent.

Upon return, I thanked the good friends (my shoes and walking stick) that helped make such an undertaking possible. I then poured myself a celebratory glass of bootlegged wine and proceeded to remain immobile for the remainder of the day. And that, dear readers, is where I shall leave you for now.