all good things

A friend talked me into climbing a mountain today, and I must admit i am not very impressed. Climbing mountains is too much like exercise for me to enjoy. I hate exercise, but at least his reason for wanting to climb said mountain was pretty cool. My friend wanted to climb the mountain so he could smoke a cigar at the top. Not the most noble reason for climbing, but one that my nicotine dependent system could easily relate to, besides I am sure that Sir Edmund Hillary and the likes would approve. So here are some extracts from the journal I kept on our climb. It was a battle of will, man versus nature, a tale of hope, despair, friendship and a 200 meter tall "mountain".

The Harrowing Adventure of Cespenar P. Finklebottom Esq. and Harold T. Farsythe III.

11.03 am
We have finally arrived at the base camp. Spirits are high and we are all eager to begin what will be a truly great adventure. Harold expressed some concern over the Sherpa guides. Apparently they are afraid of the giant space god that inhabits the mountain, fortunately they were easily placated with shiny buttons. Now all we have to do is wait until the donkeys are fully loaded so we can begin. The only major setback so far is that in my haste to leave this morning I forgot to instruct Lady Finklebottom to pack the fine china teacups so we are now forced to drink tea from a mug, like savages.

11.05 am
We have begun our quest. The path is easy to follow and morale is at a high. Perhaps this will not be as difficult as we had first thought.

11.11 am
Disaster has struck! One of the Sherpa’s was attacked and bitten by an ant. His injuries were quite severe. The poor chap suffered slight swelling and mild local pain. But this was not the worst of it. Believing that is was a sign from the space god that inhabits the mountain, the other Sherpa’s have refused to travel any further, no matter how many shiny buttons we throw at them. Rather than abandoning our quest Harold and I decided to push on. To educated individuals such as we, the notion of a space god inhabiting the mountain is ridiculous.

11.15 am
The path is becoming more difficult. Recent bad weather has made the ground muddy and slippery and many boulders have been swept onto our path. Harold and I briefly discussed the possibility of abandoning the path and heading into the wilderness, in hopes of finding a boulder free route to the summit. We decided against this approach, neither Harold or I knew the land very well and without our Sherpa guides we could very easily get lost. Although the boulders were a nuisance we thought it prudent to play it safe and step over them.

11.27 am
I have not had the opportunity to write for a while. The path is becoming increasingly difficult to navigate. By the time we reach our rest stops I have barely enough strength to brew some tea, let alone write. At the moment Harold and I are perched on the side of the path, overlooking a steep cliff. The view is spectacular and I am quite content to sit here and just gaze at natures beauty. On a personal note I am beginning to fear for my mental state. On our last rest stop we were surprised to see a beautiful blonde girl quickly navigating the path behind us. Before we could ask ourselves if it was an illusion the girl quickly climbed past us and continued up the mountain. Surely it must have been a figment of my imagination, brought upon by the exertion to conquer this mountain. Both Harold and I are experienced climbers, conquering such vertical feats as the road leading to my parents house, and the steps in Brisbane's Myer center, and we were finding this mountain a challenge. Surely a less experienced climber would find it near impossible and the thought of a woman doing it is preposterous. Since Harold has not mentioned the woman I must assume that it was all in my mind.

11.41 am
Our morale is low. Our supplies are low, we barely have enough water for 6 or 7 more cups of tea. I am quite sure the strain is affecting my judgement, for again did I glimpse the blonde girl, this time on her way down the mountain. I can only hope that the end is near.

11.47 am
Does this mountain have no summit? Does it just continue ever upwards? There is an awful lot of upwards movement and not enough topness acquiring. Surely if this continues any longer I will be able to shake hands with Saint Peter himself.

11.51
Finally as we rounded a corner we caught a glimpse of the summit. It appears to be only 10 meters above us. By Jove that means we have climbed almost 180 meters! With our goal in sight we have new vigour and enthusiasm. Surely my next entry will be on the summit of this beast.

11.59 am
We have done it! By the grace of God almighty we have reached the summit. Now that we are here we can relax and enjoy the cigars. It is a good feeling to have completed a task that you have worked so hard for. As I look back on our quest I realise that it would have been utterly impossible without the support and friendship of Harold. He was a rock, a pillar of unwavering determination. No matter how hard it became he never once mentioned going home. And now that i am sitting here smoking my cigar i can only think of one more thing... in your face Sir Edmund Hillary! All good things must come to an end.... including our heroic efforts on the side of a mountain.