Right Moments, Left Memories

“Thank you.” I smiled to the stranger before continuing up the mountain. There were so many paths up to the Snowdon summit and I was beyond grateful for advice, even if it’s just to make sure my friends and I were on the right route. And then she was gone, the last stranger I came across. It was winter, and winter in Snowdon meant a pretty view without tourists. What could be better, right?
Halfway up the steepest curve of the Llanberis path up Snowdon, I stopped to breathe. My ankles were deep in snow, frozen not because of the cold but because the jagged cliffs no less than a meter away from me looked like they were ready to take me. It was just waiting for the wrong step. “Guys?” I tested my voice against the silence. There wasn’t even an echo— it was as if all the sound waves just dissipated into the open sky. It had been almost an hour since I last spoke to or heard from anyone, and I was unsure of my ability to produce sounds. My healthier, fitter friends took off ages ago, leaving unhealthy me stranded in the snow. I need a break. Pushing my palm into the snow to stabilize myself, I shuffled around so that I was no longer facing the slope.
The setting sun perched on the other side of the curve, bleeding into the ember sky, offsetting the way the snow emitted an almost blue glow under the hill’s shadows.
I was in awe.
It was me, witnessing it all. Over a thousand meters above sea level. Glancing down, I saw my own footsteps imprinted against the fine snow. The fear was still there of course, that doesn’t go away. The awe didn’t replace that fear, but it was enough to fuel my feet forward. Slow but steady, I told myself. Push.
Emerging from the bend, the path plateaued off. It was like I was on a plane peering out the window, but there was no plane, no obstruction. The sun dipped low, as if ready to immerse itself in the clouds. In the midst of the valleys were lakes the deepest kind of blue you lost yourself in if you stared too hard. A field of clouds stretched out into the horizon. And there I was, above it all, gazing down as everything boiled down to a drop.
“Hey.” From a distant I heard a familiar voice and saw a shadowy figure wave. I quickened my pace, trampling through the snow until I caught up to my friend.
“Snowdon. Winter. No tourists in sight. We picked the right place and time, eh?”
I nodded. We could pick the right place and the right time and the right people, but in the end it was us who chose to conquer the mountains.
And we did.