I Climbed a Mountain in Bare Feet

I climbed a mountain in bare feet. My trekking shoes broke and so I wore my flip-flops but then those broke.

Ben and I wanted to do it without a guide…he had hopped on the back of some guy’s motorbike the night before to be shown the trailhead.

He bushwhacked in front of me to find the trail, kept handing me back different walking sticks.

“This is holy,” he said in his casual Australian mumble.

“What?”

“Like Christmas holy.”

At the top we could see the little town we would go to later that day and the river we would use to get there. There were mosquitos as big as baby mice. “Good way to get Dengue,” Ben mumbled. We climbed down.

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