At almost 12,000 feet, I found myself face-down in the kichad again while ascending through Singalila National Park, for what seemed like the zillionth time. In that moment, I knew this trek was going to ask something different of me. A. The rain hadn’t stopped for hours. B. We were surrounded by so much beauty and, of course, the leeches (it being a bamboo forest) C. I had major self-doubts (as always) The question tbh is why do I keep returning to the mountains, year after year? Like coming home? I can feel the tectonic plates shifting within me. My mum says it, and now aabaad.baava does too: “Once you set your mind to something, you’ll get it no matter what.” He knows me more than I know myself. It’s been less than a week since I’ve returned, and already my heart aches for the mountains. All my silly little problems cease to exist once I’m up there. Why do we crib so much?! It’s like my vision clears. I laugh so much more. I can listen to the stories of people who’ve made the...