To and From the Mountain

In 1967 I was swept across the world, finally landing in Katmandu, Nepal, where I lived for seven months. I joined the ragged band of global travelers who sang the praises of a small town in the mountains outside of the city where some of them had taken up residence. I decided to investigate so I climbed aboard the rickety bus to Dhulikhel where I was soon to become bedazzled. A short walk took me to a point above the town where a view of the Himalayan Mountain range was laid out in panoramic view. Really panoramic. Nothing but waves and waves of endless snow-covered peaks all the way to the horizon. A first encounter with the infinite universe. Even though it was concrete reality, the sensation of infinity was impossible to resist. Little did I know what was just ahead.

Several months later, Lorenzo, the leader of a band of boisterous Italian filmmakers, took us on a trek into the mountains neighboring Katmandu. We started climbing and enjoying the sunny day. We climbed more and the incline got steeper. It began to get uncomfortable. Onward he went, fast and furious. I wanted to stop but I had to keep up with the group as it got more and more uncomfortable. It felt like a mission after awhile and I resigned myself to the torment, which by now was excruciating. Nowhere to go but up. The sun set and after a frightfully long, hard day, we reached a tiny village on top of the mountain. The villagers took us in, brought us food, and bedded us down for the night. At sunrise the next morning, what met my eyes produced the most magnificent sensation in nature I'd ever experienced. At the edge of the village was another sea of snow-covered mountains, but this was so high and so far that I felt transported into another dimension, never to come down to the same reality. The villagers, of course, were matter of fact and charming as they usually are on high.

This is a mountain in the Hunza Valley where the people live to be 120 and live largely on apricots.
I traveled next door into the high peaks of Chitral, Pakistan. We lived on corn, walnuts, and pomegranates, dreaming about Hunza.

So the Sagittarian centaur shoots for the heavens with his torso rooted in human history. Sometimes movements are set in motion that can't be stopped. The American election is one of those. It reminds me of my mountain trek, which only took one day instead of two years. I'm wedded to mountains since they give me a heads-up for my Sagittarian climb. Count me in for the journey.
Castelrotto,Italy:John Elk Ill. Karakoram Range: John Mock