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My foot slipped as the rock my hand grasped crumbled, leaving me to slide further down the steep slope. My heart rocketed out of my chest like a cannon ball breaking through a brick wall, I was sure I’d die by bouncing off, rock after rock like a cartoon. I held on for dare life, stopping my slide towards the jaws of the mountain. Slowly, I crawled my way back a few feet towards the steep and narrow pathway, and ever so slightly made my way to safety. I was shocked with horror and excitement. I took a breath and yelled with adrenaline. The mountain yelled back with an echo. I was only barely halfway to my destination, a sizable house three fourth of the way up a mountain called Mitterhorn awaited my arrival. The mountain is just over 8,000 feet, with a dense forest at the base. I stayed in the valley in a little village called Ramseiden, Austria. When I arrived in Ramseiden all I could look at was the mountain before me. I arrived with my grandfather who used to come here with his family when he was a child. Now he was in his eighties, looked like Yoda, and was still very much a lady’s man. That last part baffles me still. When I stared at the vastness of this mountain, it was the first time I’ve ever witnessed such a magnificent structure in nature; I could only express absolute joy. My Grandfather had told me that I could only hike up if I were with a guide. However, to my dismay the guide who was supposed to take me was out of town and I was at that point saddened, but now desperate to hike up on my own. The feeling was alluring as if the mountain was a beautiful woman teasing me with her wonders. I don’t know why the idea of hiking a mountain attracted me so much, I think it was the thirst for adventure everyone has when daydreaming takes hold. I’m a massive day dreamer, and so I get lost in my little world when I don’t want to face reality. This was the time to merge my fantasies with reality and make a purpose for myself. During half of the days I was there I would spend with my Grandfather to explore his childhood summer vacation spot; we would pet cows, talk to his relatives in German (well a little bit of German for me), and bearing through all of his Shakespeare references and quotes. The valley, the people, the life was exuberant and resplendent, and everything I could have hoped for with my first trip to Europe. However, I am selfish and desired more. I desired to hike up the mountain to the Riemann Haus. I went alone without telling anyone where I was headed, the only water I had was the luscious streams running down the paths. The view was magnificent, and I felt truly on my own, having an adventure. Once I made it to that narrow path, I felt worried and wanted to turn around, but I didn’t. My stubbornness and ambition overtook me, and I traversed a path I would remember for the rest of my life. The rest of my way there, I would walk dangerously close to the cliff. The view from up there, even if it was barely a mile at that point, was humbling. I felt small, but I had a connection with nature more so on that mountain than I ever had in my life up to that point. My legs were yelling at me so much for hiking up a trail that steep, that when I made it to the house I flopped down on a nearby bench and laughed to myself. Surprisingly, they serve amazing noodles.