Once again, I thought I had nothing left on the final stretch, but I
made myself do it. Buddha was usually ahead, since he does this track
almost every week (and also had a much lighter bag). When we got to the
top, where there was a single trekkers hut care taken by five young
guys, there wasn't a view of the mountains at all. So while Buddha hung
out with his friends, I climbed the final hill and at the top I
saw...pure AWE. The third highest mountain in the world was right before
me, and Everest was to my left in the distance. The sun was setting
behind me, above the cloud line. It was like World 5 in Super Mario
Bros. 3, when you climbed that vine and end up above the clouds. I
rejoiced and listened to the wind, then of course inspiring music, took
tons of pictures, and then lay down for the first time all day.
I was on top of the world (kind of). Everything made sense. Every annoyance, cold bath, day sick in bed, strained step up the mountain and night alone wondering why I was doing this crazy adventure ...made sense. The rewards were there. When I started this trip, I had no plans. I certainly hadn't even considered hiking in the Himalayas. I was just going to let the experience present itself to me and see where it took me. And it took me to one of the best views in the world...but not without a whole hell of a lot of effort and persistence and doubt.
And just as I was rejoicing over my little triumph, a sad truth smacked me in the face. Sure, I was on top of the world... but I was alone. What's the point of views like these when there is no one to share them with? Just at that moment, Buddha appeared over the ridge (no, this isn't some Cat Stevens/Yusef Islam conversion story applied to Buddhism). He loved the view too. He said I was very lucky, as most people don't get such a clear view, adding that I received it because I worked hard and appreciated the reward. After the sun set over a plain of clouds, we went down for dinner cooked on a stone oven. Later that night, I sneaked to the top of the hill again to get a primo view of the galaxy.
I was on top of the world (kind of). Everything made sense. Every annoyance, cold bath, day sick in bed, strained step up the mountain and night alone wondering why I was doing this crazy adventure ...made sense. The rewards were there. When I started this trip, I had no plans. I certainly hadn't even considered hiking in the Himalayas. I was just going to let the experience present itself to me and see where it took me. And it took me to one of the best views in the world...but not without a whole hell of a lot of effort and persistence and doubt.
And just as I was rejoicing over my little triumph, a sad truth smacked me in the face. Sure, I was on top of the world... but I was alone. What's the point of views like these when there is no one to share them with? Just at that moment, Buddha appeared over the ridge (no, this isn't some Cat Stevens/Yusef Islam conversion story applied to Buddhism). He loved the view too. He said I was very lucky, as most people don't get such a clear view, adding that I received it because I worked hard and appreciated the reward. After the sun set over a plain of clouds, we went down for dinner cooked on a stone oven. Later that night, I sneaked to the top of the hill again to get a primo view of the galaxy.
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