Whatever that means, however you got on that mountain, why not try to climb it? And do it in your own way.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
It's a heavy burden to look up at the mountain and want to start the climb.
I'm one of those people who always needs a mountain to climb. When I get up a mountain as far as I think I'm going to get, I try to find another mountain.
If you don't have a mountain, build one and then climb it. And after you climb it, build another one; otherwise you start to flatline in your life.
I'm the sort of person who needs a big mountain in front of me to climb.
There's intense personal gratification in finding a mountain and becoming inspired by the aesthetics of an unclimbed line on that mountain, especially if that line has been tried by a lot of people who couldn't do it, and you get to set yourself up against the history of it.
You have to know when you're at the top of your particular mountain, I guess. Maybe not the summit, but as high as you can go.
If I know I make this much trouble, I never climb Everest.
There's a constant tension in climbing, and really all exploration, between pushing yourself into the unknown but trying not to push too far. The best any of us can do is to tread that line carefully.
There's only one way to gain mountain sense, and that's to be in the mountains a lot. Unfortunately, when you're a young climber, you have none. You're out there, and your risk level is high.
When the sun is shining I can do anything; no mountain is too high, no trouble too difficult to overcome.