Cussing at the Rockies: Climbing Mt. Maculot
” … I think fear is merely a brat that needs to be coaxed once but never tolerated for long. To be conquered, not romanticized.”
” … I think fear is merely a brat that needs to be coaxed once but never tolerated for long. To be conquered, not romanticized.”
I felt weirdly elated; coupled with the fear of not knowing what’s lurking behind every crevice and holds. An army of ants, a rare bird’s nest or worse, a snake. One loose rock too and it could be the end of my outdoor mischief.
But I never paid the slightest attention to it since my face has always been glued to my phone. A slave chained to emails and other business agenda.
“Channeling a triumphant spirit seemed overrated and out of place then. But the thing that recovered me from the throes of fatigue and a dubious sense of fulfillment was the sight of Tinipak River.”
“Though my office colleagues are one of the most intelligent people you’ll encounter, they also thrive in the sleaziest and darkest façade of humor with the attention span of a fruit fly.”
Finally, we reached the summit. And there it was. An impressive sea of clouds that can provoke one’s insane poetic self to jump right through it. Heart first. Careless of the abyss. It was truly that beautiful.
Imagine waking up on top of a mountain with the sea breeze kissing your face. Reminding you of last night’s starry encounter. Summon all your senses, please.
But if that beautiful monster can’t be tamed, it sometimes tends to overwork itself like a sweatshop from a pseudo-socialist country.
“Despite its bleak past, the trail was an amusing playground for me. Hopping gleefully in my trusted pair of slippers rather than walking like a civilized bipedal.”
“And feigning interest over vapid sceneries never seduced me. Because I think travel is far too raw and honest of an experience, that faking pleasure will always be out of the equation.”