Color of Happiness

As you know, there are few things that get me going like exploring a new country. Peru was no exception, and was completely exceptional. I will try to summarize my weeklong trip with far too many photos and some highlights. For the more extended play-by-play version, check out: Cate and Krista’s blog.

Mishappenings
The unexpected and unplanned things that happen on trips always make for the best stories. Given that my plan consisted of…
•    Board plane
•    Find Krista and Cate
•    Hike to Machu Picchu
…I left a lot of room for good stories. Here are some photos to start you off. Stories after the jump!

Here is the short version: Lost bag, bought new Peruvian wardrobe, joined 16 people in 4 day trek to Machu Picchu in the rainy season, got pretty intense altitude sickness, passed out, lost my lunch, and dinner, fell off of a horse, twice. Saw 4 days worth of Andean beauty topped off with Machu Picchu in all of its ancient wonder complete with llamas and unreal cloudy mist. Got to spend a week with 2 of my favorite people doing my favorite thing.

Here is the slightly longer version: It began in Mexico City. That was the last time I saw my bag. The story of how this happened is much longer and probably not that interesting, but ended with me arriving in Cuzco sans bag full of all of my athletic and hiking wear that I own, plentiful amounts of medicine and all of my generally awesome preparedness. Things that I still did have: fleece jacket, clothes on my back, cameras (YAY!), passport, and one extra pair of underwear.

However, I was meeting up with Krista and Cate at their cute homestay attic apartment at the end of their two weeks of volunteering. So, between them clothing me and their homestay family that fed me, I was pretty happy.

Thus, for a few days we explored Cuzco, and had a night out on the town with Krista and Cate’s new friends—that’s right, after 2 weeks in the city, they had a group of about 10 people, both locals and gringos, that they were already friends with. If you know these two and their magnetic personalities and up for anything attitudes, this is not surprising at all. When no bag turned up by the day before our upcoming trek, I went on a mission to find a new wardrobe. Just a note here, in Peruvian sizes, I am an XL (in the US, I am a small. Awesome.), and even though they repeatedly assure you something is waterproof, it is, in fact, not. Enjoy the pictures of me in my ill-fitting clothes!

On my third day, we were picked up at 4:30 am for a 2 hour careening bus ride ascending another couple thousand feet in altitude to the starting point of our hike. Krista and Cate have done a great play-by-play over on their blog of the hike itself and some of our colorful trip-mates and guides. Thus, I would like to continue from this point forward to enlighten you on the lessons I took away from our trek:

Lessons Learned

Humility
I am a triathlete. I play ultimate Frisbee most warm sunny weekends. I’ve played most other sports, as well. I have hiked in the Tetons, the Rockies, the Shenandoahs, in Tasmania and Rwanda and skied in the Alps (okay, it was more like falling down the Alps because I don’t know how to ski, but either way, I was there). Thus, when by the afternoon of the first day of our trip I was a good twenty minutes behind our group and the guide had taken my pack from me to lighten my load, I was not only fighting with my body, but mostly with my mind. Altitude sickness affects people randomly and has nothing to do with your physical fitness. However, when I was gasping for air hugging Krista trying to put one foot in front of the other through the mud in the pouring rain, I was questioning why I had allowed myself to fall into such bad shape, and why I couldn’t just power through.

Friends cannot be overestimated
The following day, we decided it would be best for me to rent one of the packhorses to get through the grueling morning hours uphill to the summit we needed to reach that day. Again, no amount of sheer will power could get me to that summit. I had to rely on Krista—to repeatedly tell me I was actually sick and to let people help me, on Eduardo or Mary Luiz our guides—to lead my horse (no reins), on Cate—to make me laugh with her stories of digestive mishaps in the previous weeks, and on our whole group—to wait for me and my very stubborn horse at various points throughout the day. It was a great lesson in humility and trust for me and though it seems a small thing, when you are weak and literally breathless in the Andes, I couldn’t have been more grateful to have these people to carry me forward on our journey.

Beauty heals all ails
As we reached the summit and the highest point on our trek, I was happy to know it was all downhill from here and having had about 4 hours to “rest” on the back of a horse, I agreed that it would be fine to walk the remainder of the way downhill to lunch. I say “rest” on the horse because riding a horse is no small amount of work, especially when you haven’t ridden a horse in a few years and this particular horse is walking on steep, slippery, rocky inclines…talk about saddle sore. Anyway, it became apparent after an hour that I should not be walking, but it was too late. There was only one direction to go and the horse was long gone carrying our lunch ahead of us to be prepared.

Mary Luiz supported most of my weight in a slow plod down the trail until the group was so far ahead that we lost sight of them as they were tiny specks in the valley far below. We tried to distract each other by attempting to communicate in her broken English and my lame attempt at Spanish. Even talking was a struggle though, so we settled for soaking in the distant cacophony of the waterfalls flowing down the peaks around us into a maze of streams in the lush green valley below. Not a bad place to have to take your time through.

When we were almost down to the valley, I pretty much passed out, only to rouse myself enough to lose my breakfast on the side of the trail. Thankfully, that got my blood flowing enough to make the final push down. Once they saw me coming around the bend (everyone had cooked and eaten lunch by this point, and taken a nap), they sent the horse so that I could ride into the camp. However, we needed to ford a small river, about waist deep for a person, or knee deep for the horse, because the horse couldn’t cross the small stone path. With a lot of gesturing, due to my lack of Spanish skills, we finally came to the conclusion that they would hand me the lead rope (remember, no reins), which I would hand back at the opposite side of the water. The moment the horse noticed it was no longer being led, before the rope was even in my hand, he bolted. He picked up speed across the river, galloping into the field ahead. I frantically thrust my arms around his neck and held on yelling and trying not to bounce out of the saddle and under his pounding feet. As I slid off of his side and onto the grass, he came to a stop.

I stood up laughing and stumbling toward camp too nauseous for lunch, but curious what the rest of the day would bring. It was pretty hilarious and who can really complain about riding a horse through the high jungle of the Andes on a sunny day during the rainy season.

Just so you don’t miss out on any of the story and my second fall from the horse
That afternoon I got back on the horse to make it to the camp that night. This time the trail was on the edge of a ravine and I had to dismount for every steep section and one mudslide. The last dismount at the mudslide was in the dark and I landed on the ground instead of my feet. That’s right, off the side of the horse twice in one day. Well done me.

We finally reached camp, a good, warm meal and dry tents. The next morning I felt great and hiked with the group all day!

Ancient generations were smarter and stronger than we are
The morning we arrived at Machu Picchu, it had been raining a full force downpour for at least 12 hours and we weren’t sure if we would even get to see all of the ruins, much less document that we were there (the really important thing, of course). As the morning mist started to rise, the rain stopped and after an hour of slow feathery clouds floating up and dissolving, we had a clear view of the green terraced village with llamas roaming throughout. Mountains towered around and I reminded of the sheer physical power it would have taken to create such a place, albeit at altitude. Originally there were orchids and agriculture filling each terraced level. It is astounding as it is today, so to imagine it overflowing with colors and aromas of flowers and crops was absolutely unreal. I sat and soaked in the grandeur in the welcome sunlight proud of the effort it took to get myself here and even more impressed with the Incas than 4 days previous. Clearly, it is a place of indescribable beauty and history of which I probably only learned small pieces. Therefore, take a look at some photos to see more.

Things can be replaced, kind of. And when they can’t, be thankful you had them the first time. And always pack clean underwear in your carry on.
When I first realized I would never see my bag again, I felt that I should probably cry. Then I checked myself. Here I am traveling to a developing nation and I am starting off the trip sad and angry that I don’t have my expensive hiking pack and shoes and lightweight wicking hiking gear? So, I decided from that point on that I would not worry about it and move forward and enjoy my trip (complete with funny ill-fitting clothes!), because I can replace everything in that bag, but I would kick myself if I had a bad attitude the whole trip. Admittedly, I am pretty sad that my late grandmother’s New Balances were in that bag, and I miss my perfectly worn in running jacket. But, I will get over it, because really, they are just things.

The Sustainable Tourist (Learning the language)
While I was excited to hear that our tour company had a sustainability focus, I have to admit in my haste of arranging the trip, I left that up to my traveling buddies. One thing I have always felt though that is not sustainable about myself is that I am (shudder) that typical American that shows up in a foreign country without knowing the language. After taking 7 years of Latin and 2 of American Sign Language, I realize that I didn’t exactly prepare myself well for my love of international travel. However, I vowed that this will be my last trip in which I have to rely heavily on others for translation (Thanks Krista!)or on natives for their knowledge of English. Thus, during my commute I have been learning Spanish. Si, hablo espanol un poco.

Until the next adventure…

Photo via Flickr by kees straver

Tomorrow I leave for Peru to hike to Machu Picchu piggybacking on The Adventures of Cate and Krista. Some might say, um, you started a new job a week ago, and you are leaving the country? To them I shake my head in wonder and disappointment that they may never understand my need for travel fully.

I say need because it is a need. Not in a negative way, but in the way that you need air to breathe and water to drink. I need to travel. It wakens something in me that nothing else can. An unbridled sense of freedom, opportunity, adventure and wonder. You can never see “enough” or everything. Each travel experience shapes and forms my character, concerns, world view, friendships and self knowledge more than any day in the office has…yet.

So, I am off to travel. To dive into the next continent and culture and I hope to come back with a wealth of art and stories to share with you. (May they not include any large snakes or Montezuma’s revenge)