Personal Narrative: Alice Springs, Australia

It was getting steeper and steeper, and my heart started pounding faster with each little step that I took. My tired legs were weakening and dragging me back. I slid with each tenuous step and kept wishing my shoes would give me a better grip. I reached for the railings beside me and swore never to look back down the steep slopes of the largest marble found on earth, The Ayers Rock near Alice Springs, Australia. I was in Australia as an exchange student and the school had organized a three day tour for all the exchange students. I recalled the spontaneity with which I volunteered when the tour guide had asked us if anybody was willing to climb the rock and repented every moment of it. Apparently there was a superstition among the Aborigines that an Iceman existed at the peak of the rock and that he would chastise anyone who ascends it. Not one to abide by something that was beyond logic, and encouraged by my previous trekking experience in the Northern Himalayas, I decided to take on the challenge. And what followed was an experience I would never forget.
Halfway through the initial climb, my bravado abandoned me and I contemplated going back.
But as I cautiously looked down, making sure my neck was the only part of my body that turned; I felt that the way down looked scarier than the way up. And then there was my conscience that kept egging me on towards accomplishing something that very few have been able to. When I couldn't battle with it any longer, I gave into it. With a half empty water bottle and a soul strengthened with courage and vigour, I continued the
climb.

A number of strenuous steps later, I saw the railings end and thought I was at the top – only to discover a little longer that it was but a mirage. I still had a long way to go, and I didn't know whether to feel happy about the fact that the gradient was no longer steep, or sad about the fact that the railings had ended and there was nothing to hold on to. I continued to trudge, using the white markers on the ground as my sign posts for navigating. Soon, strong winds started coming my way and playing havoc with my movements. First, I lost my balance, then my cap was lifted off my head by its merciless claws, and before I could even begin to scramble for it, my spectacles fell to the ground. I held my water bottle tightly to my chest, and for a very brief moment, wondered if the iceman theory was true.

Thankfully, I found my briefly misplaced logic, and kept going, straining my eyes to find chalk marks on the ground. I was finally delighted to see a small gathering of people ahead and was confident that I had finally arrived at the apex of the rock. My jubilation was short-lived when I discovered that I had to tread the same path to reach down. But the climb up had given me courage to last me for a lifetime, so the way down really turned out to be a piece of cake. Only after I reached down, did I hear that more than twenty people die every year trying to climb the rock, and needless to say, that sent shudders down my spine

I look back on that day every time I take on new challenges. I remember the fear that I experienced the whispers of my inner voice, and the tugs of my conscience. And I get my strength back.