As I hike up and up and up along Mt Olympus trail in Salt Lake’s Mountainous Backyard, pushing higher and higher above the inversion, I turn around…

What I stand and soak in is appalling and mesmerizing, a flat lake of pollution and cold, trapped air floating above the city.

I can hear the traffic below, a steady hum like an AC running in the background of a summer home. It is loud enough almost to drive you crazy but soft sufficient to drown out exhaustion.

I reach the part of the trail covered in packed snow and greet fellow enthusiasts sliding down with crampons and much more sense than I.

The sun is getting cautiously low, hovering just above the mountains in the distance, and I get cautiously close to turning around, without the proper gear and light to push me much further.

I eventually let my inner voice win, pause to take a sip of water, sit on the blanketed trail, and cautiously begin my descent back down, darkness closing in.

With what light is left, I write to get crampons, a life straw, begin earlier, and return to conquer the mountain soon, and cautiously.