I thought I wouldn't have a chance but a week before everyone departed, Amelia (athletic, crazy) approached me about it. I said without hesitation, unequivocally, yes.
Now, the day after, I feel pummeled. What was previously just a head cold has solidified and congealed deep in my chest, my feet are wrecked, and at breakfast everyone was full of admiration.
Heptapeak was an experience that is impossible to verbalize. I have only vignettes. The sun rising over our shoulders and turning a nearby lake into a brilliant colored mirror as we trucked it up the initial climb. Leaving the trail at the top of peak one, not realizing we wouldn't encounter smooth ground again until the parking lot. Dying so many deaths as I dragged my pitiful body up yet another boulder field, while ahead my companions played an endless game of "would you rather?". The inexpressible joy of each summit, shockingly beautiful, the mountains and lakes spread infinitely below us in every direction, our conquests always visible behind us and our goals daunting before us. The gasping terror of downclimbs and timid footholds so far above the ground on knife ridges and granite monoliths, where wind and exhaustion and uncertainty dogged my every step.
Contemplating the first really stupid ridge |
Victory |
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