The Terrible Reality of Climbing a Mountain
Have you ever wanted to lie down and die? To give up and fall theatrically to your bruised knees right where you stand because you have absolutely no strength left, everything hurts and it would just be easier to give up. That is how I felt…ready to down tools and succumb to the brutal elements because certain death seemed like a way better option than continuing on up the 6088m mountain that stood mockingly before me.
“Stop being such a wimp and keep moving – this was your stupid idea in the first place” I told myself as I cursed the friend who recommended this god forsaken activity to me for around the 300th time in as many minutes. I had no one to blame but myself – I had ignorantly suggested we take on this challenge immediately after the over indulgence associated with Christmas in La Paz to my two friends who were both way more energetic, finer specimens of fitness than me. I had nonchalantly signed my name on the dotted line and opted to don the ugliest kit possible, still damp with the sweat of past lunatics, in order to scale a mountain higher than Mount Kilimanjaro. What was I thinking?
What follows is an account of the psychological and physical challenges that I faced climbing Huayna Potosi in Bolivia…
