There is a myth that some like to tell: that mountains are there to be conquered. That people go up and over them in triumph, planting flags and claiming victories. This, however, is rooted more in human ego; it only takes a little self-reflection to see that’s not really how it works. The mountain is always in control whether we know it or not, and whether we like it or not. We don’t conquer mountains; they let us climb them; they permit our passage. And in doing so, they teach us the valuable lesson of humility.
The mountain will have formed over hundreds of millions of years, and will have seen things that we can’t even imagine. It will still be standing long after we are forgotten. In the scale of things, we are pretty insignificant.
The mountain teaches us that respect — both for the natural world and our own limits — is not optional. There’s no applause waiting at the summit – not from the mountain anyway – and no shortcuts carved for ambition. You take your first step not as a conqueror, but as a guest.
There’s simply no room for arrogance or ego on a mountain. Every step, breath and decision matters. If your concentration drifts, you stumble. If you show off, you suffer. The mountain invites you to be fully present — not to impress, not to win — but to survive, to witness and to grow as a person. Mountains don’t shout; you’re invited to listen, reflect and simply be you.
It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, famous or unknown, young or old. On a mountain, everyone is equal before the wind, the weather and the stone. It’s one of the few places where status and story fall away — and you’re just another person, trying to take the next step. Mountains don’t yield to human will, and in that defiance, they remind us we’re not in charge.
So if we’re not in control, does it matter anyway what plans and steps we take? Is it true that the mountain doesn’t care who we are; that we’re all equal? Well, we’re not equal in experience; some will have much more experience of the mountain than others, and they will have learned from it. I honestly believe that the mountain absorbs and reflects our mindset and character.
I’d like to think that the mountain observes us and accepts our smallness if we can accept it too, and likewise respects our honesty if we can too. Sometimes it’s enough to realize that as humans we’re part of something ancient and enormous, and sometimes, that’s enough.
And if the mountain allows, and if all the other factors align, we’ll get to the summit. And sometimes we can understand that it’s not just about getting to the top; it’s about who we were and who we became on the way up. The mountain itself doesn’t change, but with humility, we can. And that might mean that we don’t need to feel victorious; rather, we can feel grateful. Yes, grateful perhaps for the understanding that we were never conquering the mountain and that, in fact, we were never alone; we were walking with the mountain in some small way. Yes, this was the mountain that let us climb it.
It was Anatoli Boukreev who said: “The last word always belongs to the mountain.”