We have a ridiculous friend back home who is working his way through the seven summits.   Seriously, he has climbed 5 of the 7 tallest mountains on each continent and that’s just his hobby.   My hobby is wine.   [Ed. note: mine is bourbon] To each their own I guess.   Anyway, this friend, is scheduled to go climb Everest in the spring.   A huge life accomplishment and something that deserves a true place of honor…such as being his final summit of the seven.   But he still hasn’t made it up the Australian summit.   Lucky for him, we’re in Australia and had a plan to help him out.  Enter a side trip to Thredbo on the way up to Sydney and a day trip to hike up one of the summits in his honor.   

This was a much better idea in my head, before I had to leave the beach and come inland and actually realize I was going to hike 13+ km [Ed. note: uphill!] the next day.   Again, my hobby is wine and great, long doses of nature and physical activity totally compete with that.

Thankfully, Mt. Kosciuszko is nestled within a ski resort.   And ski resorts mean chair lifts (and cozy restaurants with wine, but that’s for after the climb I’m told…)   If you actually are crazy enough to want to climb a mountain, make sure you find one that takes you up several thousand feet via a comfy chairlift.   It really takes some of the pressure off that whole altitude acclimation and camping with sherpa crap.   Also, only hike a mountain that can be considered a day trip, it really cuts the need for any camping and then you have much less stuff for your husband to have to sherpa.   

We set off as early as the chairlift opened in hopes of beating the heat (ha!) and allowing enough time for what my husband had considered [Ed. note: I read somewhere during my 15 minutes of mountain climbing research] to be an 8 hour round trip.   Side note, while Australia has been very interesting and quite an experience, it has taught me to ignore him when he says “he’s got this” regarding any planning or research.   Also, how the hell did he get me to agree to climb a mountain when I still thought it would take 8 hours?  As the lift chugged along up half the mountain side, I realized that riding this contraption when the ground below you is rugged mountain biking terrain and huge rocks makes the drop look a much more terrifying than the powdery white that has only ever awaited me previously…

Safely off the lift, we started the trek up the hillside…and I had flashbacks to the Great Wall.   Had the relief of getting away from the sketchy food and toilets of Asia blurred my mind to forget that I don’t like walking uphill?  Shit.   I can’t turn back now, the chairlift lady will laugh at me.   Plus, this was for our friend.   I pressed on.   

Half an hour later and we were at the start.  Yup, the real chairlift that takes you to the start was under maintenance so we had to go up the farther and slightly lower lift and then hike.   I feel a little raged.   I’m already slightly winded and I haven’t even started on the promised 13km.   The Boy just wants to make it to the top, so he asks me to try as far as the lookout (2km away) and see how I feel.  [Ed. note: I saw her face, I was worried about not getting to the summit…] Okay, I can at least make that effort since the chairlift pass cost should get us a little view for our buck…

Here’s the thing I never realized about mountain climbing.   It’s windy…all the time.   Not just a gentle sea breeze I loved so much a week ago in Cairns, but a full on gusting wind that makes you curse the front desk clerk for mentioning the current heat wave that led you to start your hike in just a t-shirt…   The gusts were already so strong it was pushing me off the path and sensing my chagrin, the husband upped the anti…he promised wine when I came back down.   Yup, he knows my trump card.  I will do a lot of unpleasant things for wine.  [Ed. note: I knew about the wind – predicted to be 50+km/h, and decided that would be something to “experience” instead of warning her…]

Finally, the lookout.   Truthfully, it was a little disappointing.   Don’t get me wrong, there was definitely a pretty view, but the lookout was at 2,000m and the summit is at 2,228m, so the 4.5km distance between the 2 isn’t that much uphill and the view isn’t like peering up at the towering peaks of the Great Andes or anything…it’s just some gentle rolling hills ahead.  Not quite worth the price of admission, there had to be more up top to make this place so amazing right?   I wasn’t convinced, and I had a stitch in my side making me look longingly at that chairlift an hour’s walk back down.   But then the grannies showed up.   Three sweet old ladies with ski poles as walking sticks who we passed early on our walk up joined us at the lookout to pause from the wind.   And they spoke the words that should have been music to my husband’s ears.  They told us they were going to summit.   I might hate most things nature and outdoors and sporty, but there was no way in hell I could let 3 grannies beat me to the summit of a mountain.   Just like that, I had a renewed purpose (sorry, friend, but you weren’t quite cutting it anymore at this point…) and I knew I had to plug on to get up this hill no matter what…

The wind gets worse the higher you go towards a mountain summit, did you know that?  And then there’s the snow.   Reminder, I was on the beach a week ago, and was heading to another beach the next day.  Also, I’m in Australia in their summer.   How the hell is there snow around still? [Ed. note: we’re at the top of a mountain, duh!] To cheer myself up, I hit my husband with a snowball.   I’m not going to lie, it made me feel A LOT better.   Especially because the snow stuck in his fluffy travel beard for a bit.  It’s the little things that convince you to get up the damn mountain.   

And suddenly (or a few hours later…) we wound our way up to the top.   We were finally there, with a giant stone structure ahead to take pictures with.   And my husband stopped and hung out so I did what any normal person would do, I ran up the rest of the summit and yelled “FIRST” while laughing back at him….and then almost fell off the summit due to the unbelievable wind trying to push me back down the side.   Those pictures you see of people happy at the top of a mountain?  Did you ever notice their death grip on whatever rock is closest to them?  Look again, because they are gripping anything to try to stay upright, I promise.

So here comes the great surprise.   We didn’t climb the mountain alone.   We were the first people up there today and had the mountain top solo for about 15 minutes but it wasn’t just the husband and I, we had brought along our friend and proudly taped his head-shot to the top of the mountain so that he can now claim that he has reached the summit of 6 of 7 and give Everest the top honor it deserves next year as the triumphant accomplishment it is. 

You’re welcome, friend.   And you’re crazy. [Ed. note: awww yeah!]