The Summit of Scafell Pike
We’d hiked 3 peaks and 20k to reach the summit of Scafell Pike that morning. By the time we got to the top, a thick fog had encased the mountains and an icy rain was drizzling down. There were other trekkers scrambling up the rocky path over slippery rocks and it was kind of like how I imagine Hell. A foggy grey no man’s land, with sinners leading the blind trudging their way into nothingness, and empty abyss, where only the sound of faint voices breaks through the gusty wind. But don’t worry, it did get better! We got off the summit as quickly as possible and made our way down to shelter when the fog began to clear. And that’s when we took the photo, we could begin to make out the mountains in the distance and the sun shone through.
That is what I love about the mountains. I find the greatest challenges in life internal, a battle with the mind. But on the mountains, everything surfaces and the struggle becomes external. Your fingers begin to freeze up and rain seeps its way to your core until you begin to feel the cold inside your bones. Nature plays all its cards and you have to deal with it there and then. There is no space or time for useless or unconscious thought. The mountains give you a change to forget the mental game and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and after all, that’s all we should be worrying about and the rest will take care of itself.
