Kerrayzee Koreanz

I climbed a Mountain. Capital.

Booyah! I expect applause...I'm still waiting.

Those who have fear of heights, heart conditions, or are under 16 should not climb mountains. I guess neither should the infirm, something you probably would have described me yesterday. I went to bed the night before, stuffy head, body aching, and attractively blowing my nose every three seconds. Way hot. The night was spent shifting and sneezing and feeling as if I were awake for the entire night (I wasn't), listening to the woman outside my room flick through a textbook and study all through the night for a test the next day. She was pretty cool. Well, she's the wife of a Mountain Pimp, so I guess you've got to be somewhat awesome if your husband has scaled something like 200 mountains.

I digress.

I awoke. Sunlight. Eye burn, Bride of Dracula stylez. Felt average to awful, but was determined that I was to not sit out the scalement of a mountain. Some would say I am "obstinate". I would prefer "determined" but...eh, they would probably be right. Shower. Consciousness. Dress. Shoved the Pocahontas furry-band (not Pocahontas-furry) that the Pimp bought yesterday, of which he also purchased for us gloves and a hat for Mintie that made him look like a paedophile (I am not even joking...way scary), into my pocket. Took a massive wad of tissues. Sneeze.

We got on a bus, and waited at a station for a group of old men to turn up. Waited in the goddamn cold for half-an-hour with the mountain set to be conquered hovering above the skyline behind us. Too many apartments.

My thoughts exactly: Mountain. I will conquer you. I'll take you out for a meal with Mr. and Mrs. Pain. Order up some violent quiche. You want some? Delivered by First Post. The post which hurts the most.

Leg freeze. Undo by walking through slums at the base of the beast. Dogs bark. Tunnel. Concrete path. Upwards.

Oh man. That mountain rained down the pain. It was stunning. It was breath-snatchingly beautiful. But it nearly killed me. It probably would have helped if I had of taken medicine, and had shoes that wouldn't prompt fellow mountain-climbers to exclaim how slippery they would be via various hand-gestures pattered with Konglish. Barely being able to take in oxygen = not so cool. But I made it. I scrabbled over rocks, hang off trees and untrustworthy handrails, and realised how flexible, strong, and how much stamina I truly have. It's nice to realise that we can all be beyond the selves we know. It's amazing that after I almost fainted at the first 100 metre ascent, I managed to climb another 625 more. Imagine that. Having no knowledge of time = helpful! Also: coming down = harder than you would think, and hell on the joints. Oh God. I sound, like, 97. I ache today. I think I need arthritis tablets or something.

No words can describe it. Pictures do almost as little justice. I can see how something like this would be so addictive. The pure adrenaline as you reach the climax of the mountain makes your hands shake and your heart race as you look down at the sheerness of that which has been past many hours before. That didn't stop a 50-something-year-old man doing a gorram freakin' handstand on top of the rock we reached. Please don't do that Mr. Halabuhji (Grandpa). I really don't need to worry about another person up here.

What I won't forget, though, is the gorgeous snow-topped boulders, the wandering leaf-covered stone stairways, and the Buddhist Temples dotted the way through the Mountain. It's beauty succumbs almost to that of the spiritual and if I was not slowly dying I am quite sure I would have converted to Mountainism during my climb.


Correction: Apparently it was two mountains.