Musings in Defreggerhaus (27/8/07)

The vast expanse of allegedly trecherous terrain is alien to me. I am not as sure footed as I am on leisure walks at sea level. Each stone along my path could spell certain death (or at least a few broken bones) if I stumble. The fall can range between a few feet to a few hundred metres, depending. Some ridges stretch on for miles, climbing higher and higher without mercy for the inexperienced city dweller. I walk on, sometimes in trepidation, saying "dont fall, dont fall" under my breath. True, the view from the top is amazing, but it's equally true that in getting there, I could perish. I suppose maybe this is what people mean when they say the scenery is to die for. There is something quite precious about getting to a summit though. It is a sense of achievement like none other. The ache that you feel in every muscle after a climb is unfathomably rewarding. Although you curse the searing pain in your thighs as you trudge up the rockface with no end in sight, the summit....yes, the summit is where you stand tall, straighten your back and say:

"Wow. It was worth it."