I hiked up Mount Mitchell thinking the view would make the climb worth it. Instead, the summit was swallowed by fog—no sweeping vistas, just a wall of gray and the sound of my own breath. I waited, hoping the clouds would break, but they didn’t. Other hikers passed, snapped photos, left. I stayed, stubborn or maybe just tired, staring into nothing. It felt like a metaphor I didn’t want: sometimes you do everything right and still get nothing but mist. On the way down, my shoes were soaked, my mood heavier than my pack. I didn’t get the view, but I remember the silence more than any postcard shot. #Travel #TravelLetdown #SoloHiking