The Big Ol’ Mount K

To all you skeptics out there, I say No.

As in, No, I am not dead. I assure you.

But I’m pretty sure I felt, tasted, smelled, and reeked like death throughout the entire hike. Not necessarily in that precise order.

In a nutshell, my foot dropped off, my thighs disintegrated into thin air, and my hips were turned into stones. I kid you not. I’m pretty convinced that I had actually passed out, dreamed about walking 11 hours to the base camp, had some dinner, trailed another 4 grueling hours to the peak of the mountain in the middle of the night, faint-walked all the way back to where I originally collapsed, and oh, took infinite pictures along the way. Because I multitask, that’s why. Anyway, it was so surreal.

Never has any living creature been ever so grateful to sip on droplets of water and nibbling crackers when rotten maggot poop would’ve been a delicacy. All while awing the lonely ray of moonlight lighting up our dark pathway with the welcoming heat of your lover as you brace yourself through the cold, cold wildlife.

I was that living creature. That half alive creature. Modestly beholden.

Ok, so maybe we had a bit of help like porters carrying our backpacks to the top of the mountain, a roof above our heads, warm blankets wrapped around our bodies, bathroom facilities equipped with water heaters, doors, and yes, even mirrors. Dinner, supper, and breakfast buffet along with those mini sugar and creamer sachets. And perhaps some other extra amenities like electricity, Internet connection, and what not. But the point is, it was an adventure. One that has stricken me deeply in a bundle of emotions. Beauty. Pain. Joy. Exhaustion. Passion. More Unimaginable Pain. Love. But mostly gratitude.

So to all you skeptics out there, I say Yes.

As in, Yes, it’s overwhelming. Definitely something worth crossing off your bucket list.  I assure you.