Above the tree line, touching the clouds.
I have always lived at or below sea level on the east coast; everything about this trip was different from what I have always known.
Zero humidity,
70 degrees in July (and even colder once the sun set),
no chance of a beach in sight,
and being 2 hours behind everyone I know- modern day time traveling.
And the daytime activities, like mountain climbing. The fiercest mountain I had conquered up until that point was the hill to get to Williams and Diffenbaugh. It's funny how being at an 11,000 ft elevation can put a Tallahassee hill in perspective.
As the altitude gets higher the air gets thinner. Not a vital is spared- breathing becomes more difficult, the heart races. Not paying attention to the pain that starts to quiver your legs is important, staying hydrated is more important still. Setting goals helped to distract my physical anguish-
singing my favorite song in my head,
counting steps,
finding a point in the distance to make it to,
knowing that the trip back down would be easier,
looking forward to the view from the top,
or imagining you were at the top waiting for me (this option is no longer available).
We made it to the top, eventually, and a more rewarding feeling does not exist after such an ordeal.
I found a sight that a picture does not do justice, and a feeling that there is where I belong.
