The Most Stupid Thing I Ever Did...

...Was try to hike a mountain, by myself, in the rain, wearing sandals.

Let me expound.

So I'm in Edinburgh, Scotland, with Billy and Negeen, and we decide to climb up this nature path/huge-ass hill that gives you a 360 degree view of Edinburgh and the surrounding countryside. It's call Holyrood Park. Billy goes into warp speed, and Negeen goes into really really slow speed, and I'm somewhere in the middle, walking up this hill. Well, the hill takes you up high and then spits you out at the bottom again, and at the bottom of this hill is a rocky mountain. I get to the bottom of the rocky mountain, Billy's nowhere in sight, and Negeen's with me. This rocky mountain had two sets of steep stairs you could follow up to the top.

Steep? These fuckers were ridiculous. I don't know if there's a word for these kind of stairs, but it was as if someone carved 2-foot high stairs into the side of the mountain, and then put a piece of wood on the top of each stair where you could step to climb.

I decided I would do this, and picked what I thought was the easiest path.

I picked the hardest path.

There were about a hundred of these 2-foot high stairs, leading up to a ledge. I shimmied across the ledge, to continue up, when I came across a part of the mountain that had no stairs, rather a steep, muddy looking bend in the side of the mountain.

By now, I could see the top.

It was getting colder the higher I got up, and the wind had picked up as well. It was obviously about to storm. But I came this far, hamstrings and upper thighs burning, thank you, so I wasn't about to turn back just because the stairs ended. I thought, I will probably never get to do this ever again. Ever. So I better fucking do this now.

So I take my first step, and make it almost to the top. The walking up wasn't that difficult, but when I got near the top I saw what I couldn't see earlier - there's no easy way to pull yourself up to the top of the mountain, as the top of this craggy-valley thing had a lip jutting out about a foot. So I looked down.

I shouldn't have looked down. My heart started pumping - faster than it already was - my breathing was already shallow due to the altitude, and, to add a little drama to things, the wind chose that point to pick up speed, and the rain began. The rain was really, really cold.

I thought, my God, I'm going to die. I'm going to die right here. I'm alone, I'm wearing sandals, I'm carrying a purse for fuck's sake, and I'm going to die. So I started giving myself an oral pep talk.

"You can do this, Nina. You got this, one foot in front of the other, just go down the mountain, go to the bottom, you got this, Nina..."

I didn't got this. I started to slip. Then I started to pray. Again, orally.

"Please, God, please let me live. Please God, please let me live. Just let me get down the side of this mountain thing. Please!"

I'm talking to myself. I'm sitting on my butt, trying to slide down this crag of the mountain, while not tearing my jeans, because if I die, no way will it be with a gaping hole in the pants of my jeans, and if I make it, no way will I walk the 2 miles back to the hostel with a gaping hole in the pants of my jeans.

I get down the mountain crag, take a sigh, and thank God for not letting me fall on the now rain-slicked rocks.

The next step was also difficult - getting down those 2-foot high stairs.

They're so high, I can't really step down. I have to hop.

So I'm hopping down the side of this mountain, and every hop has a "Thank you" or a "God" or a "for letting me" or a "live" attached to it.

And that's how I made it down the mountain.

Next up - the fictitious story of how I spent the night in a train station.

P. I. Staker