The Siren Call of Mount Kilimanjaro
I spied the heights of Mount Kilimanjaro, at dusk, through the bluish-grey clouds that gave them shelter from prying eyes like mine. Yet through it all, its coquettish beauty was neither easily hidden nor denied but instead was a covenant of spiritual enlightenment.
So, it seemed to beckon, like so many other fools before me, to scale each of its 19,340 feet, if I dared. Was it a trick? Would she lead me into an interminable trap that would ensnare me before my senses could react? Or did she hold the promise of unmitigated beauty meant only for my visage?
I held my breath and began to exhale slowly as I took one long leap forward clinging to branches, rocks, vines—–anything that would keep me lucid, aware, mobile and functioning—-as I made my way up the peak. Up, up, up I go, resting, breathing, walking, pacing, gasping, focused, tired, but unwilling to give up or give in.READ MORE