Redondo

Each step was more laborious than the last. The thin air seemed to take more out of me even as my lungs sucked to bring it in. At 11,000 feet I was within sight of the highest mountain’s peak. The final stretch was a dangerous scree slope capped in snow bringing Redondo to 12,000 feet.

I felt cheated by the air as I climbed. The thin, unsatisfying vapors refused to fill my lungs and yet wind whipped around; threatening to push me over. Dark clouds had begun to gather promising further abuse from rain, snow, or even hail.

On all fours now, I climbed higher, better judgment urged me to turn back from the gathering darkness and dangerous sliding rocks. Perhaps the altitude’s strange tricks on my mind forced me forwards. Either way I still moved up even as large shards of volcanic rock crashed below me like so many broken plates.

On the way down I looked back up towards the peak and its crown of trees. The rain has begun to fall and the descent holds more danger than before.