EPIC.

On the second day of five on our route to Machu Picchu, the snow-capped Salkantay peak stabbed through the misty clouds into the pale sun-lit sky. It was sunny and I posed for a picture that marked the altitude at 3800 meters. I headed up towards the steep pass with two others, leaving a few behind and thought nothing of the drifting snow flurries in the air. But the flurries collected capacity, and after a few minutes I was huddled under a rock, looking for my gloves, a hat, and some way to protect my pack. After listening to new zealand John's unhappiness over not having remembered his waterproof pants, I realized that my 100 percent cotton beach-slacks, were entirely soaked through. Luckily I had remembered to put on my thermals, but those were becoming more and more like a wet napkin stuck to my skin. My private area was particularly chilled. In short, I was on the side of a lush green mountain, with jagged red rocks breaking through a damp ground and all the time freezing my nuts off.

Within 30 minutes I reached the highest point of our pass, covered in snow and fog at over 4000 meters. Alex snapped a shot of John and I building small, balanced, temples as offers to ancient inca gods, all along thinking, if you get me down off this mountain and dry again I'll sacrifice a calf, a cat, a small child, whatever you want, so long as I dont have to sacrifice myself to hypothermia. It was merciless, and it wasn´t just my thinking weakly. Alex said at one point, I just thought, Im getting down, sorry Erin, Holly, 13 year old Kear, I'll come back for you if and when I get down and back into the light of day. ITs every trekker for himself.

Actually, I think Alex and I enjoyed it the most. As we trugged down the other end, out of the falling slush and mist, we momentarily looked back to make sure Golum himself wasnt at our toes. I thought I was a hobbit, it was entirely epic. And a couple of days later my feet were so swollen you'd have to believe the story. By the end of the day we hiked past a peak, through snow, and down into a muggy, wet jungle setting. Our camp ground that night, like every other, was stunning, surrounded by mountains and pure air.

The hike itself was magnificent, but perhaps the truely epic journey was our 24 hour 5th day. After walking up over 1400 twisting, broken, uneven steps beginning at 430 AM we had made it to the world wonder that is Machu Picchu. Aside from the lost city, the setting itself is more than enough to take your breath away, with a few small peaks jutting out of the ground like stalagtites out of the cave floor. After another 45 minutes hiking up one of these narrow nolls your can lie under the clouds and look down on that classic view of the ruins.

That night we had to say our goodbyes to the group and we ended up out in Cuzco till 430, again, and by this time the light looked about the same, blue, hazy, and like a lagoon I could have fell right in, off the curb into puddles. Luckily I kept my balance and danced shamelessly to reggaeton and whatever american hip-hop that was tossed into the mix. Alex had the six step, and I was surely inventing a new slide move. Never got into the syncronized salsa, with the timed claps and syncopated steps, but the micky mouse club of peru seemed to enjoy it.
We finally took a vacation from our vaction on the last day in cuzco, dropped out pants and got all lathered up. ´Mesaje, masaje, good price for you my friend´ and for an hour 10 dollars was an excellent price.

Moving on its back to the daily bus grind to get to montanita before christmas. I´ll be in a bungalo but my mother told me santa always knows where you are. Hopefully he hasnt been paying too much attention to whether Ive been bad or good. I miss all the people from pisco, the sledgehammer and even the wheelbarrows. If you´d like to send something donate some money to Hands On. Because the Lord and Santa know Id just spend it on a bottle of rum and a book.
Feliz Navidad