Climbing Samsara

It was said that climbing the mighty Samsara would give you enlightenment.

Betsy Jones wasn’t sure how much enlightenment she needed, but she’d already climbed every other mountain worth it’s weight. Everest had been a joke. Denali had been a breeze. K2 had come the closest to killing her, not that Betsy would ever tell anyone that. She liked to tell the story of nearly dying on Annapurna because at least that one had some mustard, made her seem like some heroic fighting a mountain and winning. On K2 she’d simply come down with a cold, which she had ignored until it was pneumonia. Rather embarrassing, actually.

The only mountain left in the world for Betsy Jones was Samsara. A volcanic peak rising up all on its lonesome, surrounded by hundreds of miles of dense jungle in every direction, rising up high enough that its peak was constantly shrouded in clouds. She’d heard tales of other climbers bringing back little bottles of still-cold snow from the top in the deepest heat of summer.

Not many people even bothered to try Samsara. Not because it was the hardest in the world – from what little she could glean from whispers and passed notes it was perhaps a little harder than Denali – but because it was the hardest to get to. Not only was there the jungle, there were the native tribes and cartels hidden in the jungle, two groups of people who generally weren’t friendly to idiot climbers just trying to get through. They made it very hard for the government of the country surrounding Samsara to make a buck off tourists, so instead the government forbid climbing at all. Not only that, they had connections. To the governments that held other mountains. Being caught on Samsara could mean being blacklisted from eight other of the largest peaks on the planet.

And that, friends, was the real reason many did not climb Samsara. There could be no bragging. No press conference. No selfies from the summit. Climbing Samsara had to be done in secret. It had to be done for yourself.

So, which came first: the secrecy of the climb or the rumor of enlightenment? Betsy Jones didn’t know nor care. She didn’t climb for the publicity. She climbed because every time she looked at a mountain she heard it’s voice on the wind, calling her to come see what it held. A true call of the mountains.

“I don’t like this,” her publicist, Greg, had said.

Just because she didn’t do it for the publicity didn’t mean the publicity was bad. It kept her climbing gear, after all.

“I don’t care. I’ve already climbed every other steep set of rocks on the planet. My knees need to be replaced. I’m done after this.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Greg lied. “There’s a reason Samsara is blacklisted. It’s dangerous. Just getting there is dangerous!”

“And every climb I’ve done has been, what, a walk on the beach?”

Betsy hated the beach.

Greg had given her The Eye. “You know what I mean, Betsy.”

It was true. She did. She also didn’t care. Samsara was calling her. She could hear it all the way from her barely-used apartment. In a way, it had been calling her her entire life. She couldn’t refuse.

That conversation had been eighty-five days ago. Nearly three months. The first four weeks had been navigating the jungle. Getting around government barriers. Creeping through thicket and heavy vines. Avoiding snakes, cats, and humans alike. Once she had been spotted, and forced to run. If she had not found that rock, about the size of a car, overgrown with vines she had managed to wiggle under, she would have been caught. And then what?

Actually, Betsy didn’t even know. She didn’t want to know. The jungle wasn’t what mattered.

The actual climb up Samsara hadn’t been easier, but at least it had been a type of difficult she understood. Sliding rocks, thinning air, winds that threatened to blow right off the side.

The moments she felt most alive.

After packing up her camp, it took Betsy another six hours to finally reached what she thought was the top. It was hard to tell. Soon after starting she’d climbed directly into the clouds. She had hoped the peak was tall enough to poke through, get her onto the roof of the planet, but when the climbing abruptly ended she found herself still shrouded in a cool, dark mist.

Huffing like she’d never breathed air a day in her life, Betsy checked her GPS. She was at the correct elevation, according to the records online. She’d made it.

Betsy paced a bit, stamping down frosted dirt underneath her boots. It didn’t feel like she had made it. Perhaps it was the lack of view. Or the lack of, well…

“I don’t feel very enlightened.”

She hadn’t gone all the way up. That must be it. This must be a plateau just below the actual peak. If she walked forward, through the misty clouds, she’d surely find it.

Bolstered her by her new assumption, Betsy headed forward.

It did not take long at long for something new to break through the shroud. Something colorful. Something bright. Something that initially reminded her of the lines of flags found at temples in India and Nepal. Samsara will give you enlightenment, it said. Had she found a lost  Buddhist enclave? Finding undiscovered ruins wouldn’t give her enlightenment, but it would give her the subject for a new book. Yes, that’s why she had never heard of ruins at the top of Samsara, because everyone else who had climbed was too afraid to admit it. But she was out! She was done! She could write-

It was a 7-Eleven.

Betsy stopped in her tracks and stared at the familiar sign shining through the relentless fog. The orange and red 7, the green ‘ELEVEN.’ Exactly as she had seen so many times before. Only, every other time she had seen it, it was on a street corner surrounded by the most depressing streets and architecture ever produced on humans. Not at the top of Annapurna. Not at the top of Baintha Brakk.

“Maybe…some…carried a sign up?”

It was a ridiculous notion, but far less ridiculous than having an actual 7-Eleven attached to the sign.

And yet, there it was. As she got closer, the mists parted and revealed the same square little building she’d seen a thousand times before.

The lights were on.

Not seeing any other choice on the matter, Betsy opened the door and walked in.

Somewhere behind the front counter a chime went off.

“Welcome in!”

Betsy might have responded. She wasn’t really sure. She was too engrossed in looking around the little store. If she positioned herself so she couldn’t see out the window, she could actually convince herself she was back in the States, some six lane monstrosity right outside. It was all there. The potato chips and the chocolate bars and the rack of scratchers on the counter and the coffee station and the Slurpee machine and that squat little machine that makes the hot dogs roll and roll and roll and roll and roll and-

“What’s that?” Betsy asked.

The man behind the counter grinned at her. “I asked, how’s your day going so far?”

Betsy nodded slowly, like he had made some grand statement about the universe.

“Well, I thought I was having a very good day. Only, now I’m starting to think I might have died and gone to purgatory.”

The man chuckled. He was wearing a brightly colored 7-Eleven polo and a name tag that said HERMAN.

“If you’re dead I guess that means I’m dead, and I don’t remember dying.”

“Then, can I ask, if you don’t mind…”

“How is there a 7-Eleven at the top of Samsara? Well, you see, I climbed Samsara myself about, oh, twelve or thirteen years ago. And after I got up here I realized I had left half my pack at my last camp, and I thought, man, you know what would be convenient right about now?”

Despite the insanity of the situation trying to nestle in her brain, Betsy smiled back at the man. “A convenience store?”

He made a snap that turned into a finger gun. “Bingo-bango! And I thought, well, if I would like a little shop, maybe others would! So I built this place. And then the government shut climbing down. But I was already up here, so I figured I’d stay. Lots of people still show up. Not as many as I’d like, but lots.”

“I’ve heard other people talking,” she said, stepping up to the counter. “They say that climbing Samsara will give you enlightenment.”

“Oh, yeah, heard that, too. Not sure what that’s about,” Herman said, scratching the back of his head. “Maybe that’s somewhere else on the summit. I ain’t found it.”

“I certainly wasn’t expecting this, but, to be honest, it is nice.”

Betsy hadn’t realized how soaked she’d become, walking through the clouds. They pressed against the windows, making it look like the store was simply floating through the sky. A nice, dry, well lit place was just the thing she needed before starting back down.

Her stomach rumbled. Usually her pack carried everything she needed to get through a climb like this, but the smells of the food at the hot bar were getting her hungry again.

“Ah, I heard that!” Herman said. “You need a little pick-me-up before you go back down, huh? What can I get you?”

Betsy pointed. “How long have those hot dogs been there?”

“Put them out myself an hour ago.”

Relief! She hadn’t had a hot dog in ages, and suddenly they seemed like the best thing humans had ever created.

Herman picked up the tongs, tapped them a couple of times, and asked, “What do you want on it?”

And Betsy said, “Make me one with everything.”

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