Here or There

I like to look at pictures of mountains. Valleys and paths that wind off into the distance. I like to imagine myself on those trails, walking into the horizon. I wonder what's over there and how it must be so much better than that spot I am at now. I like looking at pictures of mountains so much that I started following a tumblr called fuckyeahhiking last night. It posts amazing pictures of mountains, valleys and paths winding off into the distance, all with a pleasant instagrammy hue.

But I have been on mountains before. In China with beautiful views all around me. And I have looked at those mountains as I drove towards them on big, unwieldy buses that wobbled precariously on dangerous roads that would be considered illegal in Australia. I've looked at those mountains with glee because I was about to climb them. But, after climbing up that mountain, I have gazed at beautiful views of forests and more mountains from the summit and thought about how amazing those mountains must be. How amazing it must be to hike that mountain. I forget I am on a mountain right now, the mountain I saw from that Chinese bus with the person two seats down from me that keeps spitting into a bag.

What do we like about looking at mountains? Is it imaging being on that mountain or is it the view we get when we're at the top? Because I am somehow never satisfied when I'm at the top of a mountain. I just want to climb more.

Similarly, I have thought about my perfect place. I imagine a beautiful green landscape with cool weather, still air and pockets of sunshine I can move to when I get goosebumps. What would I do in this perfect place? Go on Enid Blyton-esque adventures? No, I imagine myself sitting down with a good book and reading about someone else's adventures. What's up with that?

J