Neither myself or Gemma are ever likely to climb Mount Everest. We’re probably unlikely to climb any mountain. In fact, we booked a 3 day trek which reaches only 2000m the other day and we’re not sure we’re going to manage that.
But I’ll tell you what, we’d love to climb Everest. To conquer it. To sit at the top of the world and shout, well… to shout “We’re on top of the world!”
Realistically though I think if we made it to the summit, whilst attempting to shout we’d probably be sick and pass out in the same breath, so instead we booked a mountain flight.
We were assured that the earlier the flight the better the view so we booked to fly at 7.30am and were up ready at 6am. Some things can’t be helped though, and our plane was delayed until 9am.
Once we were up there the views were magnificent. Our tiny plane, shared with 7 others, rattled its way along several snow tipped peaks.
“Would you like to visit the cockpit?”
Our eyes lit up. We felt 6 again. Only this was better because this time there was something to see. The Daddy. Mount Everest. Actually, is that Everest? No, I think it’s that one… Or is it… Ok, so they all looked pretty similar. But they were all pretty big.
I honestly don’t think the delay to the flight made a difference to the views, as, short of landing on a mountain, I can’t see how they could have been any better. I liked it so much I videod it!
Once Everest had been pointed out to us (it was the biggest one), we nodded. And then we shouted. “We’re on top of the world!”. Only quietly, and in our heads.
… Sort of.