You probably don’t remember who I am. In the 5 minutes we knew each other, I doubt I made an impact on your life. The first time we met, you walked out of the cabin by the Lake of Clouds and with your wild, dark hair and beard you embodied the stereotypical image of an Appalachian Trail (AT) hiker. We didn’t know what to expect from you at first, but that day you made an irrevocable impact on my life.

It was the summer of 2017 at Mt. Washington, and to make a long story short, this hike was the worst thing that ever happened to me. It was 9.5 hours of hiking, and in the beginning, I wasn’t sure if we would ever see the top.

My mom was unable to climb and carry her backpack without being tired and the rest of us took turns carrying not only our backpack but hers as well. My hiking boot broke, with the sole coming clean off. Our muscles burned and it was so hot I thought I would have a heat stroke.

And the most annoying part? I’m sure you remember seeing the railway that was built onto the side of the mountain for those who didn’t want to make the hike. All they had to do was pay $50 per person to take a train up. You would be standing on top of the summit in ten minutes.

“What a bunch of squids,” my dad would mumble. What he meant by that, no one knew. But we all agreed.

At one point, my siblings and I left my parents behind in a desperate attempt to make it up the mountain faster and get this day over with. In our endeavor, we eventually hit the point of the mountain where we were completely surrounded by clouds and could not see a thing in front of us.

The elevation changed, and a hiker near us got a bloody nose, causing everyone to bring their hand up to their face to see if that happened to them. We then found a huge cabin filled with food and beds. That is where we met you.

You walked out and our faces dropped. My dad, having caught up with us and being the socialite that he is, struck up a conversation with you and we found out that you were hiking the entire Appalachian Trail and had been doing so for months now. This cabin, you explained, is where AT hikers are able to eat and take breaks in between hikes.

We all shook our heads in bewilderment. To do a hike like this one every day seemed insane.

My dad stated that he could never do that, especially after experiencing a hike like this. You gave us a big, white-toothed smile, and offhandedly stated that it really isn’t as bad as it seems. That definitely made us feel like a bunch of weak squids.

We asked you if you ever wanted to stop and just go home like we had so many times that day. And with a shrug of your shoulder, you said, “Sometimes, I curse these mountains. But you know what? They’re still here.”

My dad laughed, shook your hand, and said that was the best thing he’s heard all day. I stood there thinking the same. It was an odd answer, but at the same time, I don’t think we could have asked for a better one.

It gave us all the motivation to continue moving. You taught us something that stands true, and will for the rest of my life: That there will be some days you want to just give up, but you need to keep on moving forward.

That day, I cursed the mountains, but after talking to you, I realized that giving up was not an option. I continued on, made it to the top, and the sight was unreal.

I saw a sight that pictures would never do justice. There were miles of green topped mountains, with the peaks going right through the clouds. Known for its erratic weather, the wind whipped around us at almost 30 mph and the temperature dropped to 20°F.

The most transient feeling went through me as I gazed upon the mountains, with my head literally in the clouds. I felt invincible because I, an un-athletic and lanky 19-year-old, made it to the top of a mountain that has killed almost 150 people since 1849.

I did it.

I realized that after doing this, I could do anything if I put my mind to it. And it’s all thanks to you.

You probably didn’t think much of what you said, but that just shows how powerful words can be. I want you to know that I will never forget what you said, and I am going to heed your advice and refrain from cursing any more mountains.

Because, after all, complaining wasn’t what got me to the top.