I’d like to tell you my journey to the summit of the 26th-most prominent peak in North America, was an easy one, but I’d be lying.

The Nevado de Colima stands at 14,015+ feet, and along with Volcán de Colima (one of the most active volcanoes in North America) and El Cantaro collectively forms the Colima Volcanic Complex (CVC), also known as the Volcán de Colima in Mexico.

As a dormant volcano, the terrain is entirely different to the terrain I witnessed during my climb to the Everest.

The trek itself began on a sunny Saturday, where our guide led a group of Mexicans and me, to the base camp. This trek lasted over six hours on the first day, but the views were stunning and the butterflies plenty.

The flora and fauna was really something to be admired, and often, I felt like I was in some sort of fairy tale forest.

The trek, however, was mostly upwards and so upon making it to the base camp, a sense of relief and joy washed over me, knowing I was one day closer to my goal, and could finally relax my exhausted body.

At the camp, our guides took care of everything from the tents to the bonfire in the middle of the forest. Our spot was idyllic, while we sat by the logs to keep warm, we could see the summit of Nevado de Colima so clearly. She was so close.

That night it rained on us, and as we carb-loaded in our tents, wearing all our layers to stay warm, my friend said to me, “do you realise you are stepping foot where no one from your country has before?”

While this was not new information to me, it suddenly inspired me but also, worried me.

I have always wanted to be the first at something, but I have also always wanted to show my patriotism in non-traditional ways.

As a Pakistani woman, who moved away from Pakistan some years ago, people have told me I am anything but patriotic, because the age-old belief is, if you love your country you must suffer with it, and within it.

I, however, choose to spend my days away from Pakistan. This is especially why I see myself as a sort of unofficial ambassador of Pakistan – representing my country, and its women in the best way possible, at work, at events, and during travel and the activities and goals I pursue.

Which is why when Sunday came, and the trek turned into a climb, hanging on to rocks and watching as some fell to the floor below me, panicking as the stones beneath my feet gave away, I knew as much as I wanted to, I could not give up.

For, if there’s one thing that’s true about Pakistanis, it is that we are relentless in pursuing what we believe in.

My guide stayed close to my side, as I maneuvered through the sand and silt and managed like a monkey on the rocks.

I gasped for air as it got less dense; I fumbled for a sturdy grip as the crevices became smaller, my backpack getting heavier, the summit seeming miles away.

At this point the terrain and the view started to look almost like another planet. The flowers and trees disappeared and butterflies no longer surrounded me. I felt fear and nervous excitement, not forgetting for a second why I was putting my mind and my body through this.

As I stumbled to the top, I heard shouts of encouragement and clapping, and as soon as I reached the summit, I sat down on the first rock I found, took of my bag, and cried my eyes out.

It was a mixture of letting go of the fear, and accomplishing my goal. All the while, thinking about my country.

After a few sips of water, I pulled out the Pakistani flag from my backpack and with the assistance of my new friends tied it to the pole at the summit.

I had done it. For myself and for the country that has made me this strong and resilient.

And so now, atop of the mighty Nevado de Colima, in Mexico, you will find the first and only Pakistani flag.