Mountains are bigger than people. Mountains don’t care. But those who go find themselves in the rock and wind-rent air.
I have been lucky to walk, ski, climb, and claw my way up and down many mountains. The Canadian Rockies are my ‘hood’. I’ve trekked the Himalaya, the jungled peaks of Costa Rica, the ancient highlands of Europe and Eastern United States, and the red hills of Africa. I have pulled on the wrong ledge and sent a bathroom-sized slab hurtling downwards. I’ve crossed a thin, pebbled ramp with no handholds and a two thousand foot drop I still dream about. My German Shepherd has been quilled by a porcupine and leapt onto a hole-pocked cornice above a halfmile of air — both in the same day. But I have stood on summits so high I swear I can see the curvature of the Earth. I have returned.
Hear the call of the high country. Go to the mountains.