Climbing a Mountain

If you have ever climbed a mountain, you know how exciting it is to realize you are about to get on top of
one of the world’s roofs—especially for the first time when you do not yet know what to expect or how it
is going to be like.

I can remember my first ascension to a mountain top well. It happened about three years ago, when it
was autumn, and the weather in the mountains was gloomy. My friends offered me to travel to the
western Carpathian Mountains, and after a short period of hesitation, I accepted their invitation. There
was nothing much to do for me at the time, so I thought a change of surrounding would only be of use to
me.

The Carpathian Mountains are not too high. If you compare them to, say, the Caucasian Mountains, the
Carpathians look more like hills—although on average, they are about 4500 feet high. Anyways, this is
more than enough for a novice, and I am glad my experience of climbing mountains started there.
The Most Memorable Experience in My Life

Since I am a high school student, somebody might say I have my entire life ahead of me, with all of its
beautiful experiences. But despite being so young, I already have a personal breathtaking experience,
which I am sure I will carry with me until my last days: my first hike to the mountains.

Though traveling is not a big deal for me today, before my trip to the mountains, I used to be a
homebody. I had friends to hang out with, several hobbies, and I felt completely comfortable spending
weeks or even months in my hometown—or sometimes even on my block—without going anywhere. All
my demands of novelty were satisfied by the Discovery and National Geographic channels, and I
seriously thought there was no difference between seeing something on the TV or with one’s own eyes.

The situation changed when one day David, my best pal who always has a couple of colorful bugs in his
head (or, in other words, was always carrying out several crazy plans at once) tumbled into my room and
proclaimed his disgust for civilization. I will not describe how he managed to persuade
Ultimate Chess Match
I was the fool at school, a member of the “dumb class,” the mentally challenged. I was branded as
incompetent in a politically-correct way: a special needs student. Apparently, because I was not
interested in school, did not care for my grades, and took a more creative approach to homework, I was
termed as such.

Over time, I started to believe in my stupidity. I absorbed the fact that I was in special needs classes in
high school and regurgitated it out as anger and depression. But one activity changed this view of myself:
chess.

I started to play chess with my father after school because I wanted to beat him at something. It was as
simple as that. My father was a smart man, fond of physics, writing, spirituality—almost every discipline.
He was called a walking dictionary. So, winning in chess against my father would be a sign that I had
intellectual power. In that limited field, 64 squares, I had a chance to overcome my so-called inability.

Game after game, I wanted to beat my father even more. I started to study chess books and play against a
chess computer to beef up my skills. One weekend, I checkmated my father while we were on a ferry ride
to Port Townsend. It made me feel ecstatic.

Fast forward two years and some months, and I am the second board on my high school chess team, with
our top board being the best high school player in the state. There was an exhibition match held before
the tournament season, and our top player could not come. It was my chance to play as top board against
the best high school players in the state.

I was determined to show who I had become: an intelligent person able to win with calculation, logic, and
will. My most memorable game came in the fourth round. Our team was facing a preparatory school
where only elite students attended. It was essentially a match up between a special needs student and a
rich valedictorian. I was playing the black pieces and played my usual double fianchetto King’s Indian
Defense. The valedictorian was playing well and I was holding onto a little less than equality in the
position. He kept attacking and I kept defending, finding hidden resources to keep my king safe. After he
thought long about how to take me down, his clock was almost spent. He tried to break down my kingside
defense, but could not find the final push. His time was almost up and he started to make rapid moves. I
returned with more defensive maneuvers and tried to make it as difficult for him as possible. Before he
could make the final deliberation, he lost on time. Honest to God, as his clock flag fell, I leaped up out of
my seat and kissed the floor out of excitement. Of course it was not the most sportsmen-like behavior, but
I could not contain my emotions.

I went on to draw my last game against the first board from the top-standing high school for chess in the
state, and had achieved a lossless result with three wins and two draws. While holding my winner’s
trophy at the end, I knew I was not stupid. The stigmatization had melted away, and I realized that
underneath our thoughts, each person is a genius.