Our asses may be sore and our clothes may smell like five days of sweat and bug spray, but we are alive and well and loving all up on each other for our last day here in South America. To close out the semester, we spent our final week trekking the Salkantay trail through the Andes to visit the Incan treasure, Machu Picchu.
Bright and early Monday morning, our guide Antonio and his sister Mary picked us up from our hostel and thus began our journey. An hour out of Cusco, we stopped for a delicious breakfast set out for us on the mountainside below an Incan moon shrine where Antonio gave us a brief history of the Quechua civilization and their use of this ruin. Two hours further and we reached the trailhead. Piling out of the van into trickling rain, we giggled at being able to put our big blue ponchos to use and snapped a few photos in our sexy attire.
The valley was filled with fog for the majority of that morning, but at one point I looked up to see the top of a towering mountain peeking out behind a cloud. Tilting my head all the way back to see its peak, I gasped and fell dizzy at the sight of its stature—probably the most skyscraping mountain I had ever seen.
We arrived at our lunch spot a few hours in, where we pulled out all of our coziest layers and sipped on some coca tea and café to keep us warm. I quickly learned that fashion over function is a foolish principle, as my fingerless gloves were worthless against that chill. We snuggled up to our tea mugs for warmth and shivered our way through our meal, until we continued along the trail and our aerobic body heat came to the rescue. We continued a few hours further along a river that ran through a gorgeous green meadow with little yellow flowers and grazing horses sprinkled throughout. This brought us up to the mountain side where we climbed up and up until we reached flat land. Looking out at that viewpoint was an incredibly empowering moment, as we could see the point where we ate lunch and the tough terrain we had just conquered. About a half hour more and we arrived at our camp site nestled in between mountain ranges from every side. The sun promptly set as we bundled up, pooped, and waited for dinner. The stigma of blatant bowel movements was quickly abandoned (more so than it has been the entirety of the semester) as we realized it was going to be an intimate few days in that regard. We enjoyed tea and coffee before our meal, and in that time sat together, teeth chattering, and brought back one of the first group-bonding activities we did at the start of the trip. Drawing a name from Matt’s fuzzy, very beautiful, worth-the-money hat, we each shared an appreciation and gratitude for the person we pulled. After dinner we crawled into our tents, snuggled up to our bunk-mates and did our best to stay warm throughout the night.
I awoke the next morning to oooohs and ahhhhs, and unzipping the door to my tent, my own gasps joined the choir. That night may have been ass-chillingly cold, but the view of those huge mountains surrounding our site freshly powdered with snow was well worth those few hours of discomfort. As many of us jumped around doing giddy little dances, Casey got out her camera and filmed all of our excitement. After a brief breakfast and packing up our things, we continued along for day two, reaching the highest point of the trek at 4600 meters above sea level.
From here we were headed to Turquoise Lake—something I don’t think any of us expected to be so accurate to its title. But that lake was most definitely turquoise. We sat on the rocky cliff overlooking the lake, clutching three coca leaves level with our hearts as we made a wish while Antonio whistled an Andean tune that echoed among the mountains. We then found a special place for our leaves amidst the rocks and had time to just sit and reflect before we continued on. Back on the trail, we walked to our lunch spot that was situated at the bottom of the valley along the river. Despite the still chilly air, Arturo and Robbe took a quick dip in the water and even though they deny it, I’m sure regretted it a bit upon having to dry off in the wind. Walking just a little longer we got to our next camp site where we put our tents up and enjoyed another happy hour in which we did two more little ceremonies. Arturo led a brief meditation where we focused on the gratitude we have for our friends and family. We were then each asked to write a short bit of wisdom that we’ve really connected with over the semester—something we wanted to share with everyone—on a piece of paper. Again drawing from the magic hat, we each picked out a slip and read off the wise words of our peers. The spin? We had to guess which of us wrote each sentiment. A beautiful way to see one’s spirit.
Our third day was somewhat of a break from the long days of walking we had had in those preceding. We walked for about four hours total, at one point painting our faces like warriors with berries that grew along the side of the trail. We zip lined across the river to where our bus was waiting and were driven to where we would camp for the night. We watched the preparation of our lunch—a traditional Peruvian dish called Pachamanca—for which they throw different types of potatoes, vegetables, meats, plantains, and literally every kind of delicious food you could imagine into a stone stove that they then collapse and cover with banana leaves, a tarp, and dirt. They leave this to cook for about half an hour, and when uncovered, everything is perfect and ready to eat. Ohhh boy did we feast. I was in heaven. We were all in heaven. After lunch we took a bus ride to the Santa Teresa hot springs, during which the driver blasted the worst pop tunes from back home that strangely became our JAMS overseas. The dance party ceased upon our arrival to the springs, where we enjoyed the warm water for a few hours. Back at the campsite we had a light dinner and went to bed early to be well rested for the long day ahead of us.
We were awoken by knock, knocks on our tents and some hot coca tea to get our asses out of our sleeping bags. We headed out bright and early—three hours up to the top of the mountain where we stopped to explore another ruin and lay in the sunshine while our heart rates recovered. After another hour and a half down the other side’s steep slope, our knees were incapable of straightening back out once we returned to flat ground. Some folks stopped to dip in the glacial river to cool off from the hot hot sun, while I collected pieces of mica rock along the trail to our lunch spot. We enjoyed our final lunch with the cooks and thanked them greatly for having taken such great care of us. Then on we went once more. We walked for what seemed like a thousand hours alongside the train tracks. At one point Antonio pointed to the peak of one of the mountains to our right—“There’s Machu Picchu,” he said. We could see two tiny windows cut out within a stone wall that just barely protruded beyond the tip of the mountain. But there it was. I wondered why it hadn’t been discovered earlier if it was visible from a route that’s been used for hundreds of years. I later learned that it was because the site had been completely covered in foliage before it was discovered by Hiram Bingham in 1911. Just before I felt like my legs would refuse to bring me one step further, we finally reached the town of Aguas Calientes—Machu Picchu’s tourist haven. Antonio led us up a block, to the left and up a flight of stairs at which we all groaned, around another corner, and then started up another flight that was, I’m not kidding, probably a thousand steps long—this time all of us in unison—“Antonio, heeeellllllll no.” To this he gave us a giddy smirk and turned a sharp right into the hostel door just ten steps up. We could deal.
430am—today’s the day. Grabbed our cameras, grabbed our water, our lunches, and woke ourselves up enough to be able to walk to the bus, get on, and fall right back asleep until we reached the entrance point to Machu Picchu. It was amazing. One of those things that doesn’t seem real no matter how long you look at it; no matter how long you stand right in the middle; no matter how long you sit on a high terrace to enjoy a picnic while overlooking its magic.
We boarded our train at around 3pm, then met a van that drove us back to our hostel in Cusco in time for dinner. Like every other night, we went on a hunt for chicken, bought some kiwicha pop and soy milk, then went back to munch and head to dreamland.
These last two days are certainly bittersweet. We had a discussion last night about what it will be like to go home, the effects of reverse culture shock, and different ways to handle readjusting into a lifestyle we’ve been separated from for three months. As much as I am ready to be able to throw my toilet paper into the toilet and to cuddle with my parents, there is no denying that I will miss this adventure and these beautiful people with whom I have been able to grow.
Thank you, thank you, a thousand times to all the forces that came together to make this semester something I have learned beautiful things from.
Con todo mi amor,
Olivia