It was around 1:30 PM when my cousin and I decided to start our descent on the mountain so that we could be at the foot before sundown. She hurriedly told me to gather our things, clear our resting spot of any trash and begin trekking down.
“Couz, my weakness is the trek going down. I don’t have this much leg power. Better that we really had asked for the kid tour guide.” She added.
Before this all happened, while I took in as much grandness as I can standing at the summit, when I saw this side of the trek my heart did skip a beat. A beat of reluctance, doubt. I doubted myself if I can survive the trek by the looks of it. I suddenly felt cold sweats beginning to form outside my temple and I knew anxiety was creeping inside of me.
But I did set aside all those creeps. It’s all in the mind. I said to myself that if I don’t do it there’s no emergency rescue to airlift me at the foot of the mountain and be free from all the hardships going down.
I survived that descent and at the middle peak I just took it all in—gave myself a pat, took deep breaths, closed my eyes and smiled towards the sky.