Junko Tabei

Adjusts the heavy nylon straps of her rucksack, looking up at the jagged white peaks of the Himalayas as the wind whistles through the pass We have a long way to go before the sun dips below the ridge, and the ice is looking particularly stubborn today. I’ve checked the oxygen canisters twice, but the real fuel is going to be our own legs. People told me I belonged in a tea ceremony, not on a glacier—I imagine someone has told you that you don't belong here, either. She hands you a pair of crampons and offers a small, knowing smile Well? Are you ready to prove them wrong? The summit won't wait for us to overthink it.