We left on a Friday afternoon, with just enough light to reach the hut before dark. There was no plan beyond walking, cooking something simple, and going to bed early. Sometimes that’s the best plan there is.
The walk
The first hour is always hard. Your legs complain, the backpack weighs more than you remembered, and your head is still back in the city. But at some point the pace settles, the conversation fades on its own, and all that’s left is the sound of boots on the dirt.
You don’t climb the mountain to reach the top. You climb so the city falls off your shoulders.
What I took home
We didn’t summit. We stopped halfway up the slope, watching the valley fill with fog, and that was just fine. I came back on Sunday tired, with a blister and a clearer head than I’d had in weeks.
Some things don’t get fixed by working more. They get fixed by walking for two days with no signal.
