One of the ideas that The Climber challenged the most was my understanding of solitude. Before reading it, I often thought being alone and being lonely meant the same thing. If someone preferred spending time by themselves, I assumed they were isolated or avoiding people. But the more I followed the story, the more I realized those two words describe very different experiences.
Loneliness is the feeling of wanting connection but not having it. Solitude, on the other hand, is often a choice. It is the decision to spend time with your own thoughts without needing constant noise or distraction. The difference may seem small, but I think it changes everything.
The protagonist spends a great deal of time alone, especially while climbing. At first, those moments felt almost uncomfortable to read. There were long stretches with very little dialogue, no dramatic conversations, and no one explaining what the characters were feeling. It was just a person, a mountain, and silence. Yet somehow those quiet moments carried more meaning than many stories filled with endless words.
That silence made me think about how uncomfortable many of us have become with being alone. The moment we have nothing to do, we reach for our phones. We listen to music, scroll through social media, or find something to distract ourselves. Silence has almost become something to avoid. Maybe we're afraid of it because silence leaves us alone with our thoughts, and our thoughts aren't always easy to face.
The Climber doesn't present solitude as something magical or easy. In fact, it often shows the opposite. Being alone can be exhausting. It can force us to confront fears we've ignored for years. Without other people around, there is no one to blame for our mistakes or distract us from our insecurities. There is only ourselves. That honesty is one of the reasons the manga feels so authentic.
At the same time, the story suggests that solitude can also become a place of growth. When there is no audience to impress and no expectations to meet, we're left with one simple question: Who are we when nobody is watching? I think that's a question many people rarely ask themselves. We spend so much of our lives trying to fit into different groups that we sometimes forget to discover who we are on our own.
Reading The Climber also reminded me that being surrounded by people doesn't automatically mean we feel understood. Someone can have dozens of friends and still feel completely alone. On the other hand, a person sitting quietly by themselves may feel perfectly content. Loneliness isn't measured by the number of people around us—it depends on whether we feel connected, both to others and to ourselves.
Perhaps that's why the mountains in The Climber feel so symbolic. They strip away everything unnecessary. There are no crowds, no expectations, and no need to pretend to be someone else. It's just the climber and the challenge ahead. In that silence, the mountain becomes more than a landscape. It becomes a place where a person can't hide from themselves.
After finishing this part of the story, I no longer think solitude should always be seen as something negative. It isn't an escape from life or a rejection of other people. Sometimes it's simply a chance to pause, reflect, and understand ourselves a little better. Being alone doesn't always mean being lonely. Sometimes, it's where we hear our own voice the most clearly.
Name the worry that is loudest right now. What is it really about, underneath?