CHAPTER 26
Vertigo Summit
Cliff returned from Solar Peak swearing off mountain hiking. The terrain had been brutal, the experience nerve-wracking, and the idea of doing it all over again seemed downright masochistic. But that tiny seed of curiosity, planted by Savior and Pinnacle at the end of the hike, refused to die. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch—persistent, annoying, but also oddly intriguing.
One day, while chatting with Alpine, he casually mentioned Vertigo Summit. Alpine’s eyes lit up. "Oh, that one’s easier," she said, "especially compared to Solar Peak. The weather’s cooler, and the path is more forgiving—no more wrestling with boulders the size of cars!" She paused for effect before adding, "With your fitness level, I know you can easily do it." That was all Cliff needed. With a boost to his confidence and someone else’s belief in his abilities, he was hooked. The fear was still there, but now it was mixed with excitement—a recipe for adventure.
Determined to do things right this time, Cliff crafted a training plan, incorporating uphill runs and long-distance jogs. He also indulged in a little retail therapy, picking up extra gear under Alpine’s watchful eye. When the day came, he felt ready. A little scared, sure, but this time, he wasn’t going in blind. He decided to fuel up properly with a carb-rich breakfast—no more fasting on summit days.
The journey to Vertigo Summit was a three-day affair, with the peak standing tall at 4,167 meters. Unlike the chaotic scramble up Solar Peak, this hike promised a more measured pace, allowing time to acclimatize to the altitude. The group was small and intimate, just a family of three. They were seasoned hikers—dad, mom, and their college-age son, who was tackling his first serious hike. They welcomed Cliff with open arms, making him feel like part of their cozy little reunion.
Day one was a pleasant hike, filled with conversation and laughter. They stopped for lunch at a scenic spot, where a local cook served up a delicious meal. Cliff savored every bite, appreciating the break from the usual energy bars and trail mix. They shared the meal with a friendly couple who were attempting the summit with another guide and were also having a break nearby. As the day wore on, they reached the first base camp at 1,800 meters, a rustic but comfortable lodging with private rooms and a cold water-only bathroom. The lack of hot water was a small price to pay for the stunning views.
Day two was tougher. The altitude began to make itself known, with Cliff’s heart rate climbing alongside the trail. The air grew colder, and the chatter died down as each hiker focused on the path ahead. By the time they reached the second base camp at 3,150 meters, the landscape had shifted into something otherworldly—serene, silent, and slightly eerie. There was no electricity, just the faint glow of headlamps and the brilliant, star-filled sky. The cold was biting, and even washing hands in the freezing water felt like an act of bravery.
That night, Cliff tossed and turned in his sleeping bag, unable to shake the pre-summit jitters. Despite taking a sleeping aid, he barely slept, the excitement and anxiety keeping him on edge. When they woke in the pre-dawn darkness, the chill in the air was brutal. Bundled in layers, Cliff joined the group as they set off for the summit. The trail quickly turned into a scramble over rocks, hands and feet working in tandem. The darkness was disorienting, and Cliff’s headlight seemed to dim—only to realize later that it was just his jacket hood slipping down and blocking the light.
For a moment, panic set in, but it quickly turned to relief when he saw his group just a few steps away, making a hydration stop. Cliff chuckled to himself, feeling a bit silly for the scare. The next challenge was the water in his camel pack, which had frozen solid. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sip anything through the blocked tube. He would have to press on, dehydrated but determined.
As they climbed, the path leveled out, and the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon. But then, without warning, Cliff’s head started spinning. The world tilted, and he was gripped by nausea and vertigo. His mind raced—was this altitude sickness? A cerebral edema? The guide noticed his distress and stopped to check on him. Cliff explained how he felt, but just as suddenly as it had come, the vertigo passed. He wasn’t about to quit now, not with the summit in sight. So, he soldiered on, moving slowly and stopping whenever the vertigo returned.
Then, just as doubt threatened to overtake him, he reached a cliffside and was struck by the sight of the sunrise. The golden light flooded the horizon, washing away the fear and nausea. Cliff was captivated, completely still as he absorbed the breathtaking view. The guide gently reminded him that they hadn’t reached the summit yet, but Cliff was in no rush. He was already lost in the moment, soaking in the beauty and peace that surrounded him.
When he finally reached the summit, Cliff felt a calm settle over him. He sat at the edge, letting his feet dangle over the abyss, as the guide handed him some green tea. The warmth spread through him, a stark contrast to the cold that had seeped into his bones. The fatigue and vertigo were gone, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and peace.
But the celebration was short-lived. After only 15 minutes, the guide announced it was time to descend. Cliff protested—hadn’t they just arrived? But the reality of mountain climbing set in: the summit was only a fleeting moment in a journey that was all about the climb.
As Cliff descended from Vertigo Summit, he realized that the true essence of his journey wasn’t in reaching the peak but in the climb itself. The brief moment at the summit, though exhilarating, paled in comparison to the challenges, doubts, and small victories that had defined the ascent. The climb had been a series of struggles and triumphs, and it was within those moments that Cliff found the deeper meaning of his experience.
This reflection brought Cliff to a profound understanding: life is lived in the climbs, not just at the summits. The joy, the growth, and the fulfillment come from embracing the journey with all its ups and downs, rather than fixating solely on the end goal. With this newfound perspective, Cliff returned home, ready to appreciate each step of his life’s path, knowing that true contentment lies in valuing the journey just as much as the destination…
