We rolled into and out of Cusco without ever seeing the sun. Only once our little cab had begun its winding descent into the valley outside of the city did my sleep deprived brain begin to churn into motion. This is what Peru is supposed to look like I thought to myself. Green valleys exploded in front of us, puffy clouds grey with impending rain scattered across the horizon, mountains in the distance. I’ve lived near mountains my entire life, but my mountains looked nothing like what I saw here. These were not mountains, but massive, sleeping giants that reached into the sky above us. We were nothing compared to these mountains. These mountains were strangers to me, and yet I loved them instantly.
After the cab we climbed into the back of a truck and set off up a dirt road, after the truck we began to walk. We would walk for the next four days.
Our legs carried us up and up through a lush green valley, above us stood these massive white faces that looked down on us. To the Peruvians Mother Earth is known as Pachamama. I wondered if Pachamama was looking down at her little gringo children. I wondered if she thought of us at all.
We climbed. 11,000 feet, 12,000 feet, 13,000 feet. Tomorrow we would go even higher. Tomorrow we would cross over Salkantay Pass which stood at 15,200 feet, more than 5,000 feet below the peak which bore it’s same name.
As we went to sleep that night, buried under fleece blankets to block out the cold, I wondered what it would be like at 15,200 feet. I couldn’t imagine it. I could only wait for morning to come. I guess I’ll find out I thought as I feel asleep.
And then it was morning. Or, at least, it was time to get up. We dressed in the dark, ate our breakfasts, and listened sleepily as our guide gave us the instructions for the day. I really hope I’m understanding him correctly I thought, knowing that I was the only one here who spoke even remedial Spanish.
Later we would come to find out that I actually hadn’t understood our guide fully. But in the grand scheme of things it didn’t really matter. My misinterpretation would cost us a few hours without our bags, about $100 american dollars, and a fair bit of sanity as I attempted to explain a rather complicated situation in Spanish. But then again, what is travel if not a series of memory-creating fuck ups?
Anyway. By 9am we had summited Salkantay pass, and although it was cold and crowded, and blindingly bright, I thought I should never want to leave this place. I feel like I’m being obtuse when I say that I literally cannot describe its beauty. But there you have it, that’s what pictures are for.
Besides, we still had to make it to Machu Picchu.
