Preview: Mountain of a promise

The Mountain of a Promise

A birthday trek, a promise I nearly regretted, and the strange things discomfort quietly teaches us.

🕦 15 Min read

I am having my morning tea, thinking I'll continue reading the book I have been onto this week and finish it today. H looks at me and asks me what we are going to do this weekend. It was her birthday weekend, and we hadn't done anything really cool. Well, we had gone for coffee and lunch, but not anything cool.

H and I have always had one recurring conflict. I like my routine, but she likes disruption. I like to live by the clock, have my tea on time, do things with predictability.

She likes nature, surprise, and occasionally situations that feel life-threatening to me but strangely peaceful to her. Over the years, she has dragged me into adventures I resisted and later secretly loved.

My Papa told me men who achieved great things in their lives always did things on time.

So I made it my life's principle of sorts to be in a routine — live by a routine and avoid too much change in the day.

So I realised there is a pattern to my strife with adventure. I say yes to an adventure, thinking one day I will do it. Then finally that day comes, and I find reasons to escape it. Then H tells me that it's time, and then I take the leap.

Which is exactly how one Sunday morning found us at the foot of a mountain in Thailand.

Well, this question from H on doing something interesting requires me to think very hard, as I generally don't make plans unless I really have to. And I know the answer to this question — we will go somewhere in nature, H. So I told her we could go for a trek. She asked which one.

There was a small scenic lake near the foothills of the mountain. Other than some dogs on the side of the road and two guys sitting there with their fishing nets, there was no one else. For a moment, fishing looked like a good idea - safe, easy, and relaxing — aka routine.