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The usual sounds of a city at night echoed through our small hostel room. A dog was barking in the distance and a car was idling nearby. The bed felt firm below my body- I sometimes wonder if all hostels use the same brand of extra hard mattress. The minutes ticked past becoming hours as I lay there impatiently waiting for sleep to whisk me away. Too soon, I heard the familiar sounds of my 3 A.M. alarm. My eyelids were heavy and it took every effort to pry them open. Reluctantly, I jumped out of bed and dressed in the clothes I had laid out the night before. I had a brief flash back to saying goodbye to my husband in the city square the day before. I wondered what part of the world he was in as I shook my daughter, Gaia, awake. I was met with groans of resistance but was able to gently roll her tiny body out of bed. We slipped out of our room and quietly made our way down to the street where a van waited for us. The van was filled with weary travellers ready to visit the insta-famous Rainbow Mountain. Gaia settled into the chair next to me with her head on my lap and I did my best to find a comfortable position. I could feel the sunlight on my face but I tried to cling to a few more minutes of sleep despite the stiffness in my neck. It was to no avail, for the second time that day I pried my eyelids open. We were deep in the countryside now. Women in traditional clothes dotted the countryside, going about their morning routine, tending to their animals and preparing their children for the days events. “Wear lots of layers and don’t forget your bags,” called out our tour guide in rough English, then repeating herself in Spanish. We were faced with a wave of cool air as soon as the van doors opened. The first few steps up the trail were laborious and my daughter asked why it was so hard to breathe. I gave her a brief scientific explanation then told her to save her breath as we hiked toward where the horses stood. At an elevation of 16,000 ft, I knew that this hike would be difficult for Gaia’s 6-year old legs so I hired a horse for her and we started the climb. Though not long in distance, the dangers of elevation sickness were every real. We pushed onward, everyone in our group at a different pace. Gaia, her horse, and lead slowly becoming silhouettes as I stopped for photos along the way. I crested the hill to a whirlwind of snow and Gaia a small speck on the horizon. A moment of panic sucked at my soul since I had the warm clothes in my backpack, but a member from my group said that he had given her his extra coat. Now it was up to me to catch them. The air burned at my lungs as I passed groups of people weak from pushing their bodies too hard. No amount of climbing could have me prepared for this. My mind wanting to continue, but my body struggling to adapt. I hailed a local down and hopped on his horse. We rushed up the mountain, my daughter being the only thing on my mind. As we approached the final staging area, I saw a figure on the ground wrapped in blankets and surrounded by adults. Instinctively, I knew it was her. I jumped off my horse and scooped her up. The early morning travel had caught up to her. She nodded off in my arms for a short period of time and awoke slightly cheerier. We had less than 100 meters to go. I bribed Gaia with the promise of a lego set and half-carried/half-pushed her to the top. Standing among the colourful display revelling in the beauty of the mountain ridges I asked her what she thought of this amazing landscape. “It’s okay,” she replied. Later that night we laughed about the ordeal as we lay in bed snuggled safe under our warm duvet.