Himalaya Odyssey (5/6)

한국어 버전을 보고 싶거나, 이야기를 계속해서 받아보길 원하시는 경우 아래 페이지로 이동해주세요.
(작가 블로그 가기)

“This is the last one.”

That single fact gave us the strength to wring out one final drop of energy—a strength we didn’t have back at Tilicho Lake.

Altitude: over 5,000 meters.
Oxygen levels were half that of sea level.
Perhaps because I was running on half the usual fuel, with every step, my heart pounded as if to shatter my ribs. My breath didn’t just catch in my throat; it rose to the top of my skull, and my mind began to go blank.

My father was walking ahead of me.

His ragged breathing sounded like bellows. His pace slowed, and his legs wobbled as if they might give way at any moment. But he did not stop.

Sixty-six. An age when no one would blame him for resting in a comfortable armchair. Yet, he had chosen this path of pain himself, fighting a desperate battle against his own limits.

In his back, I seemed to see the most primal human weakness, and at the same time, something on the exact opposite end of the spectrum.

What word fits best? Yes, Awe.

The fighting spirit of the entrepreneur I respect, who had built a company and survived countless crises, was right there.

The Highest Place. A Ritual Toward It.

It felt like a scene from an ancient, sacred ritual. It looked like a sublime gesture: burning up one’s last energy to reach the highest point, only to pass the ember to the next generation. My father was teaching me something with his entire body.

Every moment was a limit.
My legs were numb.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t feel it because I was dazed; it was closer to an unbearable pain. Just as I wanted to collapse, I shouted without thinking.

“Dad, you can do it! We’re almost there. Just a little more!”

It was encouragement for him, but wasn’t it also a vow to myself? Like a mantra I was repeating to cast a spell on myself.

Being Each Other’s Support

We were not protector and protected. We were each other’s support. He held onto my young will, and I held onto his seasoned tenacity. Leaning on each other’s breath, we walked and walked.

A fierce, biting wind began to blow. The closer we got to the summit, the harder the wind tried to push us back. We bowed our heads lower and pushed through. Like people entering a sanctuary cut off from the world, to exchange a spiritual baton.

And finally. Where the five-colored Lung-ta flags fluttered wildly. The numbers on the sign came clearly into view.

Thorong La Pass, 5416m

We were there. Together.

(End of Part 5. To be continued in Part 6)

• On Monday, a <Special Edition: Singing in Yokohama After Sending Off a 20-Year Friend> will be published.

A World Traveler’s Small Stories & Insights Published every Monday and Friday.

Are you an entrepreneur? Struggling with an unsolvable problem?
Check out the travel content below for more problem-solving insights:

The Pilgrimage: Content from the Footsteps of Famous Figures