I don’t like thinking about the climbing of Dune 7 in Namibia, or at least the climbing up part, that is. It was painful and heavy climbing up a steep slope and needless to say, hot. Like, I mean really hot.

No, I was surprised to find that Dune 7 handed me a very different challenge- it was an emotional wall to conquer, a spiritual test of will, and somewhat of a physical hurdle to jump; one I’ll never forgive or forget.

The sand was hot underfoot, prickling my feet pleasantly at first but soon growing uncomfortable to near-steaming. My shoes fell off my feet or filled with sand, so I said to heck with it and dug my heels into the blistering fragments of rock smoothed to a liquid. With shoes for hands, all fours seemed to work until I swore I could feel the skin on my soles splitting apart and melting into the dune. The will power it took to not cry out with every step was the worst of all.

It’s so easy to turn around, not just give in, but also to just let your body stop and lie there. What dawned on me while I was smothering in sand was that lying there or sliding back down on my butt wouldn’t be a defeat for me. Climbing down would just not be good enough for me, and that reaching the top would be the only way for me to feel pleased by the end of the day. As an absolute perfectionist, I had to strive to reach the highest point possible or every step, every burning strain would be a waste.

I kept going, forming a strategic routine of climbing feverishly until my feet were magma under the boiling rock, resting on hands and knees until my feet cooled down enough, give a look down the hill, then start over.

Wash, rinse, and repeat.

I never kept track of how far I was from the top (or bottom), but somewhere caught between ‘I can survive up here on dung beetles and my own urine’ and ‘maybe if I die here I’ll be reincarnated into a bunny’, I stopped. Like in most stories, there’s a turning point or a crossroads for our hero, making a life changing decision, sealing their fate. Well, the sandy sweaty mess that was me was wondering, which way will my crossroads lead? There comes that weird feeling inside my head when I think there’s no one to help me way up here, so if I really want to do this, it’ll have to be on my own. I started thinking of how I could tell people that I had climbed Dune 7, how beautiful it will be when I reach the peak, and what a waste it would’ve been to get here and not taste victory. Those were somewhat superficial, selfish things, nothing at all what I earned in the end.


My ears picked up voices above the howling wind, and I heard my family calling to me, urging me on. My bravery surged through my muscles, renewing my spirit and got me going, cherry-red feet and all.

For a long time, I’ve been fighting the self-doubt that plagues every human being, listening to negative voices and feeding the seed of depression that I believed was born into me. I’ll always have depression and anxiety; it’s not something a pill or a psychologist can change. Hearing far away shouts of “keep going!” once or twice didn’t erase the physical pain and fatigue, but renewed my emotional grip on the dune. Knowing that someone was waiting all the way down there, whether I reached the sky or not, was rejuvenating.

I didn’t even know that I had cleared the lip until I heard nearby voices, and saw a group of locals laughing and cheering on their own comrades, some grinning at me as well. Unknowingly, I was gripping the loose sand as I realized that I was looking over the edge and down the other side, instinct anchoring me. Like the adrenaline told me, I told myself that I was a winner, an exhausted winner with sand in uncomfortable places.

I won’t say what the other side looks like, because despite the cliché-ness of it, the other side wasn’t the point. I looked up later and said to myself “I didn’t climb that, I survived it.”

Climbing down was the most satisfying thing, mentally knowing I succeeded and physically cooling my feet as they waded through the sand. Fatigue wins over after said adrenaline ditches, but I let it take over. The world is a little repetitive in the sense of story morals, so I won’t say “never give up” or “you can do whatever you put your mind to. Some people have the mental will and emotional strength to climb a mountain, while others use the physical to accomplish the task. All I can tell is the story of a girl getting back up on her feet, a dune, and a whole lot of sand to shake off.