Epilogue

Some say that mountain climbing is an addiction. Whenever I am up on a mountain, I want to get down desperately, telling myself, “I’m never doing this again.” However, just a few days after coming down, I start making plans about the next expedition.

Minya Konka, a moon, and a star.

At first, I thought climbing gives me certain bragging rights. However, the more I climb, the more unusual stories I got to hear. My “accomplishments” weren’t even worth mentioning compared to a 13-year who summited Everest and a single mother who climbed the 14 highest mountains on the world (all above 8000m),

Summit flags and sunrise, Muztagh Ata.

Then I thought maybe I’m an adventurous guy who likes to challenge myself. However, I'm quite conservative it comes to life-threatening activities. I do multiple rounds of logistic research before climbing any mountain to make sure that there is at least a 99% chance that I do not die there.

On Chola Mountain, up C2.

There is just something mysterious about the glaciers that kept luring me onto these journeys over and over again. Then I realized it was just the beauty that kept me going. A fellow climber once said, when you stand up high, you get to look at the world from a different angle. The view is not observable from anywhere else, because few places on the earth’s crust rise above at that height.

Muztagh Ata, up C3.

In Tibetan Buddhism, ice-capped peaks are where the deities reside. Many mountains are considered as the symbol of holiness. Every time I climb, I view the expedition as if I am a journey to pay my respects to the deities living inside. I would always remove trash from the mountain given the opportunity, as my gratuity to the gods and goddesses who protected us throughout our journey.

Chola, up C2.

The most important reason for my addiction was the people I got to encounter along with these trips. They come from all backgrounds, work in different fields, yet all share the same passion toward climbing. Some had been working toward giant goals like Everest and K2; others are simply mesmerized by the beauty of rock, snow, and ice. I always feel privileged to spend the days with my fellow climbers and listen to their life stories. In the end, we all formed long-lasting friendships and would still hang out and visit each other.

We ate together, slept in the same tent, suffered through the same heat and storms. I will never forget the road we walked on and the days we spent together. Special thanks to the leaders and guides on these trips, without whom we'd all be lost and dead in the mountains.

Nama.

Muztagh.

Chola.

Looking back on some past posts, I don’t even understand some of the things I wrote. Yet because of the blog, those memories would stay in my head forever.

At last, I want to thank everyone who checked this blog out, even if you only look at the photos. Journaling this journey was like reliving those precious moments all over again, and I’m grateful that I could share this experience with you.