At one moment our feet touched earth's skeleton, and the next, our heads were in the clouds. We found it strangely satisfying to encounter such wide open spaces, where even GPS devices often couldn't help us find our destination. And just when my husband, Terry, and I thought we had seen it all the mystery of Gros Morne: big lone Mountain took our breath away - quite literally. It was not the romanced version you see in the Hollywood movies with people yodeling and dancing their way to the summit, like in The Sound of Music. Terry and I sweated and complained as we hurdled over rocks, sank our hiking boots into mud, and slapped mosquitoes and black flies off our bodies. And although it was only 4 kilometers to the base of Gros Morne Mountain, it seemed so much longer hiking the James Callaghan Trail, at an elevation of 320 meters, on this sticky summer afternoon. Moving through the Arctic-alpine environment I couldn't help but think, "There is no way I can finish this trail in this heat." But then I thought, "Well, I can take one more step." And I did. Then I told myself, "Okay, just one more." And again, I did. Then I took one more after that, and then another; and another; until eventually I found myself, along with Terry, at the base. We rested for a moment, sipped our rationed water, and watched an old man make his way down. How? What? Did he just come from? No way. Terry and I looked at each other puzzled. Then our eyes skimmed over a big warning sign. And we questioned each other. Are we carrying over 1 litre of water? Yes. Do we have good weatherproof jackets? Yes. Wearing hiking boots? Yes. Is the weather looking good? Well, it's windy and clouds are gathering, but not too bad. Are we feeling physically fit? No, but that old man just came down from there. Feeling undeterred, we commenced. "We can do it!" I yelled to Terry. The mountain at its highest point is 806 meters above sea level. Now that doesn'™t sound like much. But the climb is over rock and boulders that move under your feet. The climb also rises 500 meters, and at certain parts you are exposed to gushes of strong wind. However, your efforts will be rewarded by breathtaking views. And every now and then I would stop, balance my body on a boulder, and let the beauty sink in, before continuing to climb. My climbing technique was a little different to Terry's. I managed to traverse my way over the rocks using all fours. In fact, I compared myself to the strange black spiders you see scurrying under the rocks - I was Spiderman, err woman! Terry, on the other hand, stepped over the rocks in a more civilized manner. "œWe'™re almost at the top!" I called to my husband below. His face showed an overwhelming sense of relief. But as I twisted round the corner and looked up, I realized the mountain had tricked me. There were many bends and twists before we would finally reach the summit. Terry straddled the rocks exhausted. About an hour in we made it to the summit. "œHurrah!" I waved triumphantly. Reaching the summit gave me an empowering feeling. You look down at the most panoramic view - the ridges in the Long Range Mountains, the vastness of the sky, and the turquoise-coloured Ten Mile Pond gorge. It'™s as if there'™s nothing else on earth. And all the trivial problems of the world below, they were forgotten in that glorious moment. We snapped a few scenic photos. Then descended the path that loops around through Ferry Gulch, where the mountain vistas are soul-stirring. The gradual descend through the rugged terrain seemed effortless now. We passed three back-country campsites that overlooked a peaceful lake - rippled only by a baby breath of wind. It took us around 6 hours to conquer the mountain and descend to the parking lot, with a total distance hiked of 16.9 kilometers. And the lesson I learned on this trail was that humans can endure far more "physically and mentally" than what anyone might think possible, as long as they don't give up.   Submitted By: Desiree Anstey