Pico Blanco

By Samuel Ryter

Since he was a boy, twenty-year-old Pablo dreamed of standing on top of the greatest mountain in the country. The only problem: Everyone thought that he was crazy, stupid, or silly.

He had everything. A beautiful girl who loved him, a family that cared for him, a peaceful life in a beautiful secluded village, and the pain and desire of creating something remarkable in his life.

On a spring morning in 1892, the young man takes a chance and decides to leave. Despite the warnings of his family, fellow villagers, and fiancé, he sets off onto a dangerous journey to follow his dream.

Very soon he realizes that life does not always play out as planned. And so, the circumstances, the road and the people he meets become his teachers. What he slowly discovers on his quest to the top is, that the greatest strength may not be in his muscles or intellect, but somewhere else. And that there would lie the power that could help him to accomplish all of his goals - even to get to the top of the 'greatest of all mountains.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samuel Ryter
• Release date: Apr 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463368848

Samuel Ryter

I'm a Swiss writer and author, currently living in Mexico. I love books that hide a deeper meaning between the lines.Stories have been used for millenniums, in cultures around the world, to comfort, provoke thoughts, inspire and essentially to elevate consciousness. I believe in stories, and I believe that we all can find our own story within a book - if we dare to listen.It is, therefore, my wish that each reader of my books can take something from the stories onto their life-paths. If that's a different viewpoint to life, relief, inspiration, encouragement or just a feeling of gratitude.Thank you for stopping by here.My best wishes,Sam

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PICO BLANCO

A story of a young man who followed his dreams.

By Samuel Ryter

Published by Samuel Ryter

Copyright 2019, Samuel Ryter

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author’s Note

Since the beginning of time, human beings have told stories. Stories to comfort the soul, stories to educate, stories to enlighten. Stories. If they were true or not, stories were the gate to the infinite world of our own imagination.

And they still are.

This book is a fictional story, in a fictional world, with a fictional character. And yet, I believe, it is far away from being untrue. It is a story in which we shall find ourselves. In each character and in each difficult situation Pablo, our protagonist, will face.

This work is about a boy who has a dream to climb the Pico Blanco, the greatest mountain, the white peak, the top of the world. The place human beings strive for. The place of clarity, where we are able to see the world as a whole, from the top. The place where everything starts to make sense and all questions are answered.

It might also seem to be the place of ultimate peace. Of love and acceptance. Heaven. The place-less place we are constantly feeling our way towards. Every day, a little closer. And sometimes, we get lost. And sometimes, we feel lost. And sometimes, we suffer, have to learn and readjust. And some other times, we are joyful. We savor the trail, the sun shines, the flowers blossom. We are inspired, exhilarated, in love.

Writing this book taught me that there are day and night on all our paths. There is summer, autumn, winter, and spring. There are highs and lows. There are ascends and descends. Discoveries and similarities.

And so, I believe, we do all have a little of Pablo within us. We dream and wake up. We experience hell and heaven. And if we want it or not, we are all slowly, going our own way.

This story, at times, will lead us into supernatural waters. I first resisted entering them, as I personally have had prejudices. But how could I block the inspiring, creative force which is responsible for all the art ever made?

Right, wrong, reality, fiction, good, bad, black, white… Who is the judge?

The abnormal might be nothing else than something which we haven't yet explored. Something unknown. And so, I believe, do reality and fiction change their places with each perspective we take.

Therefore, I hope that the story will inspire you. That you may find yourself within it. And, perhaps, gain new perspectives. Because, in my humble, current opinion, it’s the perspectives that bring us closer to our own truth, to our own calling, to our own Pico Blanco.

With love,

Samuel Ryter

Dedicated to:

My beloved Orsi, the woman who taught me more than any book ever could.

My close friend Tomi who changed my life when I was twenty-three years old.

My parents, my brother Lukas, and my sister Lea because I love them very, very much.

"To climb a mountain is meditation. It’s the act in which mind, body, and spirit come together.

The man who masters the art of climbing is forever free."

Part One: Spring

The beginning

Pablo had a dream to climb the greatest of all mountains. But everyone he knew, told him to forget about it.

Pablo was born in 1872, and already as a small boy, he felt a pleasant tingling in his belly when he closed his eyes and imagined the lives of foreign people and the unexplored lands, far away from home.

He grew up in a little and secluded village named Almada. And Almada dwelled in the hills, not far from steep, ascending cliffs, and a morning’s march from the shore of a vast lake, further down, in the vale.

Peaceful and quiet was the life in the village, and green were the hills, and marvelous was the view from the village onto the great, blue lake in the east.

When the sun rose, it rose far in the distance, behind the lake, and behind the greatest mountain in the country. And when the sun set, it set very closely, behind Almada and behind the steep cliffs, that protected the secluded village from strong winds and from foreign travelers.

Only an old and rocky road led from Almada down to the shore of the lake, and that made the life in the village very quiet. And only one path led from Almada to the cliffs behind the village, and that made the life of Pablo different from all others.

When Pablo was still a small boy, he discovered that one could climb up the cliffs and then have a wonderful view onto the vast lake and onto the distant lands. And each time, he managed to get to the top, he was astonished to see the whole country beneath him, and he dreamed of traveling as far as the eye could see, and of discovering new lands, meeting new people and eventually climbing the greatest of all mountains. Eventually, climbing the Pico Blanco – the mountain with the white peak, in the far, on the other side of the vast lake, where the morning sun rose.

Now, Pablo was a young man. A handsome young man, with the brown eyes of his father, the dark, curly hair of his mother, and the tanned skin from the sun. Strong was he, in his arms and legs, but skinny did he always appear from a distance. His early interests in climbing had long ago turned into a passion. A passion so different from other peoples’ passions, and yet, it was climbing that gave him a perspective to a life outside of the lonely hills, and it were the cliffs that taught him things about life, that nobody else in the village could have ever taught him.

He loved the challenge and the excitement, the danger, and the adventure that the art of climbing brought him. He learned to be persistent and to trust his instincts. And the more he climbed, the stronger his urge to leave grew within him – and the sooner he wanted to see, experience and do, what nobody else in his village had done before. Because never had Pablo left the hills of Almada. And rarely had anyone else, from the peaceful little village, ever left them.

But for many years the young man had stayed in the secluded village. And for many years he had tried to suppress his urges and tried to live in accordance with his parents’ traditional expectations. Who was he to leave? He had work, he had a good, loving family, friends, and he had fallen in love with the most beautiful woman he knew.

Her name was Anna, and it was Anna who taught him how it felt to be close to a woman. And it was Anna, too, who helped him to feel so split and lost between two worlds. The world of love, and the world of adventure and freedom.

But then winter came in 1891 and left in 1892, and spring made the flowers grow again, and flourish, and made the air smell fresh and made the country in the hills look beautiful and colorful.

It was a warm and a quiet evening and Pablo sat on the porch with his father, an old man who didn’t have hair on his head but a big heart in his chest. Together they watched how the setting sun shone onto the lake and beyond. And as Pablo looked at the white walls of the greatest of all mountains, in the far distance, he gathered all his courage to speak with his father about his dearest dreams.

Father, have you ever dreamed of achieving something great in your life? said Pablo, and held his breath and looked at his father who raised his eyebrows.

Of course, I did, my son, he said and smiled. Every young person has dreams.

What was your dream then?

Well, when I was young, I wanted to travel, said his father proudly, I wanted to see the distant lands, and explore the life that was beyond the lake and then go further and taste the foreign foods and see the foreign women, he then laughed. His voice was deep, and his stomach was rather round like the sun.

And, said Pablo, did your dreams ever come true?

I was young, and wanted many things, he said and chuckled. But, you know, dreams are just dreams. And they are not real. And maybe, one day, when you grow older, you will realize that there are more important things in life than dreams.

But, father, what could be more important for someone than his dreams?

Many things, said his father. For example, the family.

And so, you have never seen the distant lands, and never explored the life beyond the lake, and never tasted the foreign foods and never seen the women?

I have never seen them, said his father. "But I was fortunate to meet your mother. And glad was I to inherit the forge from your grandfather – and maybe, one day, you will become inspired by the craft of a blacksmith too, and you will inherit my forge."

Maybe, one day, said Pablo, drooped his head, and gazed down, between his legs, into the nothingness of the wooden porch. And still, I am sad for you that you have never seen the distant lands.

Don’t you worry, my son, said his father. I found happiness here instead, at home. And I found the best woman I could have ever dreamed of, and I have the best son in the whole world. Who knows, we might already live in paradise and there is no need for us to travel far.

But how can someone know what paradise is, when he has never seen the opposite?

For this question, his father didn’t answer but stayed quiet. And so, both sat in silence for a while and watched how the land got darker.

Can you imagine how it must be on top of the Pico Blanco? said Pablo when darkness had almost taken away the daylight, and when one could already see the first bright stars in the evening sky.

It must be cold, that is for sure, said his father.

No, father, I mean the feeling one gets when he reaches the peak. I wonder how it must feel like to see the whole country, and how it must feel like to have accomplished something so big in your life, that there is nothing bigger to accomplish.

I know what you mean, son. And I’d love to give you a satisfying answer, but I simply don’t know. And perhaps, the feeling one gets who reaches the top can’t be described anyways - like so many things in life.

I’ll have to experience it by myself then, said Pablo, and his father chuckled.

You don’t have to do anything, Pablo, said he. I admire your passion for climbing. But you can climb the cliffs near Almada. They are safer, they are close to the village, and you can focus on becoming a good husband for Anna. Is that not good enough for you?

I don’t know father, said Pablo, sighed and again felt split into two parts. He felt that urge within him, that wanted him to break away, follow his dream, climb the mountain. And, at the same time, he felt guilty for having such extravagant demands from life when he already had everything he needed and could be close to Anna, and close to his family.

You know, it’s one of the first spring evenings. I have been thinking a lot about leaving Almada and climbing the Pico Blanco. I even saved some money. I could leave now and come back in two or three months. And I could then become the husband of Anna and learn how to be a blacksmith.

Don’t talk such nonsense, boy. You must take care of Anna now, and work hard and build a life. You are young and strong, and you could have a bright future here in Almada.

I am young and strong. It is true, said Pablo, and it is perhaps the only time that I could leave for such an adventure, don’t you think?

No, I don’t think, son. It is a bad time to travel anywhere. Think about the government’s war with the bandits around the lake. And think about all the problems with the pirates, they have. Not even boats are permitted on the lake. Tell me, how could you ever get from here to the foot of the mountain?

If no boats are permitted, said Pablo, then I’ll walk around the lake.

His father chuckled more, don’t be silly. This could take you weeks, said his father. "And the paths at the shores are dangerous. You could be robbed or even murdered. Hear me, son; it’s not a good time to leave. There will be other times, and I don’t know any other place that would be safer and more peaceful than Almada right now.

I will find a way around the bandits then, said Pablo.

You think your journey will be painless and smooth, do you? And how about Anna?

If she loves me, she’ll wait for me.

And then his father sighed, and there was a long silence between the two – a silence where Pablo realized that there was nothing that could convince him not to follow his dream.

There’s nothing that could convince you, is there?

I don’t know, father. I only know that there is something within me that wants to leave. And it is within me since I was a little boy. I feel an urge for adventure, and every additional day, in which I keep ignoring this urge, hurts me more.

I think it is good that you want to accomplish something and be a hero, my son. But you can do this here, in Almada. Opportunities for great things are everywhere – if you open your eyes.

But maybe I’m meant to go, said Pablo who drooped his head again and looked sad in his face. You always say that I should trust my heart. And I say that I should go before I have children and before I am married.

You may want to leave from here, said his father. But look at the land, look how beautiful it all is here. Why do you want to be on the other side of the lake? Don’t you have the most beautiful view from here already?

I will know the answer, dear father. When I saw it from the other side, he said, and there was another silence until his father took Pablo by the hand and looked deep into his eyes.

I know that it is not in my power anymore to tell you what to do. You are old enough. But I want you to be clear about what you are risking. And if you are unwilling to listen to me, then it is perhaps best if you meet Catherina tomorrow, and talk with her about these matters. She may be able to clear your head from all that nonsense.

I will do that father.

And I will hope that she helps you to see how good of a life you have here.

The woman of wisdom

The first time Pablo had met Catherina, was a few years earlier when the woman moved to Almada. Without children, without a husband, but with herbs, and something about her, which made Pablo immediately like her. Maybe even love her. In a different way.

They said that Catherina was a woman of wisdom. Pablo didn’t know what that meant, but he trusted her, and the people of Almada seemed to do so too. They came to visit her with all sorts of pains and illnesses – emotional or physical. Always was she able to help. And always was she able to show people, what they already knew deep inside their hearts.

It was on the next morning when Pablo walked down the road, through the alleyways of the small village to the house of Catherina. It had been raining the whole night so that the paths turned into streams and the roads turned into mud, and when Pablo visited the old woman, it was still raining so that one could not see the sunrise beyond the lake but only dark clouds in the sky.

Catherina had snow white, long hair and she laughed when she saw Pablo approaching. The young man’s cloak was drenched from the rain, but he smiled too because some people’s laughter is contagious. Catherina’s brown skin was soft, beautiful, but marked by the sun of the many days she had lived. And her face always looked kind, and each time Pablo met the old woman, he felt warm in his chest