My first trek happened on a whim. I barely knew how to pack a rucksack, let alone survive chilly nights in a tent. It was so new that I thought the biggest challenge would be the steep climb. Turns out, the real hurdle was figuring out if I could live with just the basics: a few warm layers, a sleeping bag, and the will to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The trek organizers handled meals and tents. That left me with the essential responsibility: moving forward, even when my lungs felt like they’d gone on strike.
It’s still surprising how much those mountains taught me. I had done five guided treks by the end of that year. Each one felt like peeling off another layer of city life, revealing what I truly needed—and it wasn’t much. I learned that the most rewarding days come when I clear out the noise and focus on the core of what matters. Waking up to a sunrise over the snow-capped peaks has a way of pressing a massive reset button on my mind. My heavy concerns back home start feeling a bit lighter when I’m breathing in thin, crisp air.
There’s something cathartic about writing these experiences down. It’s like I’m climbing them again, one keystroke at a time. Trekking can distill so much of what life throws at us into a few days or even a few hours. Think of that moment when the trail gets too steep, and your legs are trembling. You’re convinced you can’t take another step. Then, somehow, you do. That tiny victory reminds me I’ve got more strength than I thought, and that applies to every part of my life. The mountains made me a better person by showing me I had reserves of courage I’d never used.
There’s plenty of humor, too. Once, I unzipped my tent in the morning and found a sheep staring at me like I’d crashed its party. Another time, I forgot to secure my trekking pole and watched it slide downhill, nearly taking out a friend’s water bottle on its merry journey. Those silly moments never fail to bring out a good laugh and keep me grounded.
I’m on a mission now: keep things simple, climb with heart, and stay curious. But beyond all that, I want to give back in some small way. Maybe it’s by carrying a little less so my guide can rest. Maybe it’s by picking up litter along the trail. And maybe, just maybe, it’s by spreading the sense of possibility these mountains have sparked in me.
Have I figured out what lies beyond the next peak? Probably a stronger version of myself who’s ready for the next challenge. And I’m cool with that. Each climb reveals a bit more of who I’m becoming. Five treks in, I already feel like the horizon is a friend rather than a stranger. And I can’t wait to see where my feet—and my faith in them—will take me next. stronger, wiser version of myself.
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