Climb Every Mountain
Admiral Biscuit
It was called Mount Fairweather, but that name was a lie. Fran wasn't even halfway up the mountain when the clouds began to close in.
At first, they just obscured her vision, forcing her to backtrack every now and then. She'd pick a careful path, cautiously moving forward one hoof at a time, ever mindful of the loose fractured rocks that would slip free at the slightest provocation, only to have to retreat when her chosen path terminated in an unclimbable wall or a dropoff.
She'd gingerly pick her way back, and try a second time.
The lower parts of Mount Fairweather had been thoroughly explored, nearly all the way to the treeline. Ponies lived on the flatter parts of its slope, and over on the south side there was a small logging encampment filled with hearty ponies who made their living off the mountain's natural bounty, felling the sick trees for timber and planting new trees in their place.
They'd thought she was mad to want to climb all the way to the top.
Every now and then, the clouds would break slightly, and she caught a glimpse of the dense evergreen forest that she'd left behind. Mostly, though, there was nothing to see but the rocks all around her and the misty whiteness behind that.
As she picked her way over a spine of rock that jutted out from the mountain, she wondered if she'd get to what she thought was the top, and then the clouds would clear away and she'd discover that there was another, taller peak that she'd missed in the fog.
Well, if there is, I'll just climb over to it. Her hoof knocked a chunk of shale loose, and she skidded down the backside of the ridge, landing in an inglorious tangle on a small ledge.
Fran shifted into a more comfortable position and took a sip of water as the last bits of loose rock bounced down the scarp and landed around her.
Even though it was summertime, she'd gotten high enough that the shadowy recesses of the mountain still held small drifts of snow. That shouldn't have been a surprise; when the clouds cooperated she could see the snowy cap of the mountain from the ground, but it still felt odd to have it right at hoof like that.
She wiped her lips and put her water bottle back into her saddlebags and then eyed the chimney of rock in front of her.
•••
Fran flopped onto another ledge, her rope trailing behind her into the mists. There wasn't enough air to breathe up here, and what would have been foal's play on the ground had nearly done her in—she hadn't had a moment to relax on the ascent. She'd managed to wedge herself against the rock face as she pounded pitons in to make a crude ladder. Luckily, she'd brought plenty, so she hadn't had to pull them back out behind her.
Plus, leaving them behind would make the descent much easier.
She rummaged around in her saddlebags for a chocolate biscuit and nibbled on that while she considered the terrain in front of her. Now she'd gotten high enough up that the snow was covering everything it could stick to, and she knew as she got further aloft, it would be thick enough to hide crevasses, which was another thing she'd have to watch out for.
The ground was sloping up at a fairly gentle angle—the next portion of her ascent would be easy enough, so she finished her biscuit and coiled the rope and set off again.
•••
She pushed her way through barrel-deep snow, testing the ground with a forehoof before she put any weight on it. The feral clouds around her had decided that there wasn't enough snow, so they were adding more to the already deep piles, blowing it into her face and completely obscuring her vision for minutes at a time.
She'd already had a couple of close calls. Her forehoof would press down into nothing at all, or even worse, the snowpack would take some weight, and then crumble underneath her. One time the clouds had parted just as the rotten edge of the mountain had crumbled off and she'd seen the rocks tumble downward into oblivion below her.
She hadn't heard them hit anything before they vanished into the mist.
Fran knew she was getting close to the top, though. Her path had taken her on one circuit of the summit, and she'd looked below her to see her own ragged path through the snow a few hundred feet below her.
She ducked into a small crevasse in the rocks, which provided a bit of shelter against the blowing winds, and had another drink of water. It had gotten cold enough that she could hear ice rattling around inside her canteen, and she wished that she'd thought to bring a scarf and a hat. That had seemed foalish when she'd been down in the lumber camp, but now that she was up near the windblown peak it didn't seem so stupid after all.
A sharp gust of wind whipped a blast of snow into her little crevasse, and she ducked her head down until it had passed.
When she looked back up, it was as if the mountain had finally given up the fight. The snow had stopped, and the clouds were breaking up, leaving only the summit of the mountain obscured. Below her, Equestria spread out like a panorama, and she moved as close to the edge as she dared to drink in the view.
The logging village was completely obscured by the trees, but she could see the chimney rock she'd painfully ascended far below, and off to the south was the tiny hamlet of Springwood Creek. She waved at it, even though nopony there could possibly see her.
Now Fran was reinvigorated, and the path forward was obvious. She pushed her way back into the snow drifts and started climbing back up, her fatigue falling away at the nearness of the summit.
Her destination was so close that the last few hundred feet to the peak just flew by. She was quickly back into the clouds that wreathed the top, but that didn't matter. Fran knew what path she needed to take.
There was but one more ledge that stood in her way, so she stretched out her climber's axe one more time, hooking it over the edge and pulling herself up.
It was a moment before her hooves got a good bite on the slippery rock, and all her attention was focused on them and not what was around her, but once she'd gotten her hoof-hold established, she looked up at the vast sky above her, her heart swelling with pride.
“I did it!” she proudly announced to the heavens.
“Did what?” a voice answered back.
Fran blinked, suddenly noticing the gaggle of ponies crowded on the summit. She'd just interrupted a pegasus family picnic.
Author's Note
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