Just like family.

We went rock climbing in a cave near Chiang Mai. It was my fifth climb of the day, on the steepest rock face available (I'd worked my way up), and I was tired. Like, arm-numbingly, hands-shakingly, sweat-dumping-out-my-pores tired. Halfway up the wall, I was ready to call it a day - believe me, I'm not above giving up when the going gets tough - and after the fourth or fifth slip I shouted down to my belayer bring me down. "Take a rest," he told me. "As long as you need." I was ready to complain, to kick and scream until I got my way, but then I looked down (what were you thinking, Trevor?!). The entire group, about 20 people overall, peered up at me. They shouted and cheered, letting me know as loud as they could that they believed in me to take that final step. Crap, I thought, now I'm going to totally embarrass myself when I give up. Josh, a leader on the trip, shouted suggestions of which path I should take to the top in that ridiculous accent of his. He told me to take my time, to focus on nothing but where I was going to put my feet next. Five minutes later, having gained about two feet of ground on the wall, the group continued to let me know they were rooting for me. The believed in me, like, actually believed in me. They wanted me to reach the top.

And I did. Granted, it took me another ten minutes or so (complete with breaks every 30 seconds - my forearms were KILLING me), but I freaking did it. I've never felt so relieved in my life, but down below my travel buddies were cheering. I felt accomplished, like I'd made my family, my mom and dad and brothers and sisters, I felt like I'd made them proud. When I finished repelling and my feet touched solid ground, they high-fived me and patted me on the back. Then they told me I smelled terrible. Just like family.

This was only six days into the trip.

Would I climb that wall again? Yes, yes I would. But I'd bring deodorant.