The First Kilometers

The pounding drums of Quechuan music playing in the background couldn’t keep up with our heartbeats as our little minibus rolled towards Km 82. Sure, we were elated but our crash course around the Sacred Valley the previous day had deflated our parachutes and promptly brought us back to earth. After our mandatory photo op at the infamous sign, we were off. The first few kilometers were a breeze, giving us a false sense of accomplishment. In retrospect, our first steep climb was nothing more than a quick skip up a few flights of stairs compared to what we ended up facing later on. We gorged on lunch which only made us heavier as the latter half of the day took us uphill all the way to camp. With hands on my knees catching my breath, a 72-year old lady in nothing more than Nike sneakers passes me by. Make no mistake. I am reasonably fit. She’d probably been trekking all her life. That was my excuse.

Of course, the porters glided past like they were on escalators.

We’re going up where?!

Ha. Famous Day Two. I wished I’d stopped fellow travelers for photographic evidence. Esohe and I lying on top of our backpacks taking 2-3 minute power naps in the middle of the trail as we ascended towards Dead Woman’s Pass, rolling over for porters and trekkers. Our strategy was – burst of speed, then stop, burst of speed, and then stop. We ended up tiring ourselves out and dozing frequently. The story of the tortoise and the hare was lost on us.

 “Perfect power! Now just go down to lunch” Aly, our guide, says as we reached the Pass. Lunch was 1.5 hrs away down a gruesome rocky path that never ended. He’d conveniently omitted this fact. By the time we got down, we had nothing left, were pissed, and still had another summit after lunch.

A native man hangs atop the second summit playing slow music on his flute waiting for us to reach him. Out of frustration, he disappears. We weren’t making it up there anytime soon. I label him an Andean mountain apparition after his exit. With deceiving switchbacks that made you feel like you were hiking around in circles up the mountain, there was no end in sight.

I did get to camp first to applause from the porters, though a little disoriented. Sure I did get a head start to make it down there. Big deal!

Staircase to hell

If they looked like what Day Three introduced us to, oh boy.  After conquering 17 grueling kilometers the previous day, this day’s undulating terrain in the morning initially felt more like foot massages. Not until we reached the never ending stairs that threatened to take out our knees unless we appeased them by sidestepping. I forged ahead, often trekking by myself for miles. It was in those precious moments when time stopped and my mind was devoid of thought that I realized I was alive – listening to my breath, absolutely conscious, and 100% present in my life. Finally getting to camp early at 12:30pm, we had the entire day to relax.  Later that night after tipping our porters, they formed a line and received two kisses each from all twelve of us.

It was the least we could do.

I see it! I see it!

I don’t know how I got to the Sun Gate at such breakneck speed but I did without elbowing anyone or tripping them with my trekking pole. Aly had told us to be at the checkpoint by 4am. We didn’t need to be. He caught a few more zzz’s till 5:30 am. Unfortunately, his twelve girls got into a pissing contest with the Llama Path folks who’d cut in line.  The last day had little to do with our stamina. We were reduced to base primal emotion.

With our headlamps illuminating small circles ahead, we rushed past each other with no love lost, finally climbing steep stairs to the gate.

“There it is! There it is!” trekkers shrieked. We instantly became buddies again.

All I saw was a blur in the distance until I put my glasses on.

There she was. Machu Picchu.

[ View some pictures from my Peru Gallery ]