“The scenic route, taken up and then down, with so much of a frown as it was so damned hot!” Gun Roswell
Up and down the steep hill
The only way up, to really see what was on the very top, was to climb the steep and dangerous and totally narrow path, with the crowds so packed, that you could not take a break without loosing your step. But what the heck, it was a holiday trek after all, and it was time to see it all. The history, or rather rate old rocks, once a magnificent fort, but now only a sad sack of stones, but hey, I was willing to climb with these old bones, even if it killed me in the process.
So climbing, climbing, never stopping, sweating, gasping for air, this was hardly fair. It was supposed to be a fun holiday and not a time to slave. Still, I had made the decision, to make my way up there, almost touching the stratosphere, as the mountain was certainly that high, and I was not stating this with an easy smile, rather a grind of my teeth. But there was no defeat, only on choice, to make it up there or die trying, well, guess not, but still, it was hard.
That was until I reached the bloody top and then, I stopped, for a breather, a drink, a snap of the views I think. And then, there was only one more thing remaining for me to do, and that was to climb back down again! And hey, that was another feat notch onto my proverbial belt! As I stared on my way, the bad blood and hatred felt, on my skin as those still on their way up there, were silently cursing all their way.