A few years ago, someone once came
to me about a movie they had just watched and said that while they were
watching the movie they kept thinking of me. The film was called Into The Wild. In the same week that the
film was released on DVD I had heard that statement once again from a different
associate and it was then that my
interest was sparked. I had never
seen the film at the time, or read the book, but I knew that it was based on a
true and tragic story about a man who, upon graduating college, abandoned his
possessions, donated all of his money to charity and took on a journey to
Alaska to live in the wild with nothing more than his wit and the produce of nature
around him for survival. Apparently, that wit of his wasn't as astute as he
thought, because he died of starvation, all alone in the wilderness of Alaska.
However, I suppose it was the similarities of the man's nature that people were
seeing in me. I didn't know the whys behind the man's journey and that felt
important to know. So one night I ran home with a copy of the film and I watched
it. When the film was over I was filled with mixed emotions. I wasn't really
well acquainted with the people who made the statements to me. They had no real
insight to my inner desires and dilemmas, but their correlation told me that
they somehow saw me as an adventurous, free spirit who looked outside the box. It
was the greatest complement I could have received. However, it could have also
been interpreted to say that I was really just a crazy extremist who didn't
know what on earth she doing with her life. But, I've decided that it was
actually the former that was implied. Ever since then I began to see myself in
the same way they did, although, I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I was
letting people down. I really wasn't living up to that image people saw me as and
up till then I hadn't really done anything at all that adventurous. If they had
only known how much of a homebody I really was most of the time, they would
have told me I was more like Homer Simpson instead. It was then that I decided
I was going to push a little harder to be that person. I had been dreaming more
than I was actually doing and the pressure of time was weighing heavy on those
dreams. It was then that I really began to hit the ground running.
Standing on the edge of a mountainside
in the middle of Peru, I can now see that I've finally dived head first into
the wild and have lived up to those expectations. I was finally that person they
saw in me when I was still dreaming about it and had yet to be aware I was. I
like this version of me. I'm the happiest when I'm in my traveling skin. I'm a
little bolder, a little sharper, a little more receptive and selfless. It's
hard to be those things when you're surrounded by eight million people fighting
to be noticed, for a position at a job, an identity, a future, a mate or even a
seat on the train everyday. When I'm wandering the globe, meeting new people,
learning new things and I have a minute the listen to the voice in me, that's
when I'm the happiest.
On the last leg of our trip, I was
struggling to get up at 3:30 in the morning. Not because it was an abominable
time to be waking up in the first place, but because this would be the last
time I would ever get to do this again with the same group of people. It had
rained all night but once we were up, the sky was cloudy but free of falling moisture...for
now. Our camp was a dangerous two-meter free fall away from the edge of the mountain
and all night I imagined a mudslide wiping me off the side while I slept. The
unwanted image was put there last night when Gerson told us a the story of a similar
mudslide that happened at this very camp two years ago, which took out two
girls and landed a large rock on their guide, killing him instantly. That was
the worst thing he could have told us during a rainstorm. I didn't get much of
a restful night's sleep after that bedtime story. We were up at stupid o'clock
in the morning this time because we were trying to reach the Sun Gate of the
Incas for the sunrise. It was supposed to be a spectacular view from the last
pass overlooking Machu Picchu. When everyone was up, we started our hike
through the dark mountainside like three blind seniors with our walking canes.
Our searching eyes dilated to the lack of light, stepping gingerly on our feet desperately
trying to keep from putting any more pressure on our aching leg muscles as
possible or from stepping into thin air. By some miracle we made it down a
winding path to a checkpoint starting us on the trail that would lead us to the
gate. A line ran down the path where stamp happy Peruvians whacked passports
and kept a running count of the number of hikers entering the final leg of the
trail. Not long after passing the
checkpoint, the rain began to pour down over our last change of dry clothes,
but before the rain had a chance to soak up any of the water, ponchos of all the
colors of the rainbow were over our heads and the mountainside trail was dotted
like skittles rolling through an ant farm. Alister got a little confident in
his stride and decided to walk briskly ahead of us, as always, mumbling
something about the path, when suddenly I hear SWISH, WHACK and look up to see
Alister balancing his weight on the mountain, trying to keep himself upright. Oh my God! I think I stopped breathing,
convinced he was already halfway down the mountain before I could look up from
my position.
"Bah
ha ha" I hear Erica burst out. Once I saw that he was still on the
mountain my next instinct was to join Erica in a burst of laughter.
"Did
you just hear what he said before he slipped?"
"Ah
ha ha, n-o."
"'This
is a nice path, you could run through this portion', he said. It's too slippy
but you go right ahead, I'll be right behind. I told him."
"Ah
ha ha!"
Alister's
sheepish grin and obvious embarrassment just made us laugh harder. Throughout
the entire journey he has been the "master of the trail". No one was
going to out hike Alister. Seeing him in this vulnerable state of embarrassment
was just so out of character for him and it caught us unaware. We couldn't keep
from laughing at him. He was a good sport about it though. Even he found the
humor in the whole thing.
Most of the journey was a constant spiral around steep
mountainsides where the clouds literally passed right through us. The sweet
thickness ran through our hair and brushed our faces like we were stepping into
the sky and walking through a forest of clouds. I imagined myself as Peter Pan
going to Neverland with the lost boys by my side. Nothing else mattered here,
and life...was only as important as where your next step landed. Pain, pride,
hunger, sorrow, work, family and obligations belonged to a different world.
Here, it was just you and the clouds.
A few hundred feet above I could already
see the stone threshold of the Sun Gate after a few minutes walk. Impatient to
get a look at Machu Picchu for the first time, I picked up my stride until I
was at the top panting like a large dog after a long distance run, holding my aching
side. This was it. This was what I
struggled four days to experience. When I was climbing up to Warmiwanusqa
Pass on the second day, clutching the side of the mountain, thinking I was
going to rot in the sun on that massive hunk of rock and cursing myself for
even thinking I could attempt this journey, this was the moment it was all for.
What an unforgettable sweep of natural beauty and human artistry. We were still
a two-hour hike from Machu Picchu, but from where we stood, I could see the
magical city in one take, one draw of the eye and it was breathtaking. Nothing
a person could ever describe in words or try to capture in a picture could ever
do it justice. It was clouds puffing around the lush green mountain peaks, a
backdrop of twisting gorge and snow capped mountains in the far distance. It
was almost unbearable to look at. It was too much beauty to convince me it was
real, but it was. Mother nature and mankind erupted in all its creative
transcendental ability and gave birth to this place. If I had a flag I would
have staked it right in the spot where I stood. Marcy was here. Perched on a narrow ridge between two earthquake
fault lines nearly 8,000 feet up on the Andes Mountains of Peru, rested this
little city with hundreds of terraces used for farming and draining water from
the torrential rain falls. Rain falls that take place somewhere as much as two
times more than dreary Seattle, WA would get. This brilliant civilization built
a city with mind bending engineering abilities without the use of a written
language, iron tools, mortar or a wheel. It was a heaping dish of mind over
matter, with a sprinkle of blood sweat and tears really.
After a two-hour gradual walk down,
the amazing race was over. We had finally reached the mystical village that was
known as Machu Picchu, together. Our group and those groups, who had
challenged, supported and struggled with us from the start. When we stepped in
front of the last checkpoint at the entrance of the ancient village, something
very strange happened. That feeling that was so euphoric and peaceful just two
hours ago, suddenly seemed to vanish. One look at the half dozen tour buses
unloading tourists who flooded the line with us, the locals selling ponchos and
postcards, and the souvenir stands lining the entrances, my smile dissolved
completely. Looking around at Erica, Alister and a few of my fellow hikers who
I had never formally met, it was apparent by their stoic faces that they too were
feeling my sentiments exactly. It suddenly didn't feel like we were explorers
and archaeologists on a grand expedition anymore. As we began to merge with the
flowing river of other tourists, that was the very same moment that our
four-day journey together ended. We were all changed people after this
experience. We realized what we were made of after this and learned something
of ourselves and of others along the way. The sudden drop back into
civilization was almost a shock to our senses. Here among the sea of new faces,
it suddenly seemed to matter that we hadn't showered in four days, our hair was
a matted mess on our heads and the large packs on our backs were wet and soiled
monstrosities. All the stuff that didn't matter, shouldn't matter, suddenly
became very apparently prominent. The fact that all of these people were
flocking here on air conditioned, luxury buses with reclining seats, made me
want to call out CHEATERS! You don't
deserve to see this place if you just strolled up to it on a bus! This place
wasn't meant to be easy to get to! The Incas would be rolling around in their
graves if they saw this assembly line of invaders strolling up on wheels. However,
there we all were, at Machu Picchu together, the crazy and the lazy.
Our little group following Gerson as
he gave us the grand tour of the premises like he was a real estate agent,
impressing his clients with the awesome engineering abilities of the Incas and
fung shui design of their interior decorators. It surely was prime real estate,
that was a given. It was magnificent and one of the most impressive things that
I've seen in my lifetime. Snaking in and out of the many rooms and terraces I
would often spot one familiar face or another from our trails. We would look at
each other with a knowing smile and a slight nod that said, I see you. I know who you are, and what you
went through to get here. We are one and the same and we made it. And then,
we would move on to the next building or the next room until the open house was
seen. Looking at Gerson, I could tell that he was tired of this part of his
job. For Erika, Alister and I, this was all very surreal and we were amazed by
everything. Gerson grew up in Peru, had done this hike and toured this site
more times than he could count, so I was sure that this was the last place he
wanted to be right now, but he was a great guide and very patient with our
curiosity and our myriad of questions he tried very hard to answer. However,
after a few hours of exploration, even we were tired of it all and food was the
only thing we wanted to look at then.
Just outside of Machu Picchu's
entrance, we filed into a restaurant where the four of us sat with a lovely buffet
of local dishes and I had my first taste of ceviche. This dish, consisting of
sushi style trout pieces with slivers of red onion and cilantro soaked in tangy
lime juice, was one of the most delicious things I've eaten in Peru so far.
Here, I also had my first taste of Inca Cola. The Mountain Dew/pineapple-like
soda with a little extra kick of sugar (if that's possible) was a little too
tasty for my wellbeing. It's a good thing we don't have this stuff in the
States or I would be in big trouble.
When we finished our meals, it was
decided that we would make the journey to the small town of Aguas Calientes,
about twenty to thirty minutes away from the site. Waiting for our transport to
take us there, Gerson asked us if we had brought our bathing suits for the hot
springs. For some reason, his attention was directly diverted to me and I was
suddenly grateful that I had the excuse to say I didn't. As nice as it would
have been to go to the hot springs after a four day trek like we had just
experienced, the last thing I wanted to do was don a bathing suit in front of
the general public after not shaving for four days, sporting a very uneven
sunburn across the top of my back and a slew Morse code of bruises down my arms
and legs. I'll wait until I can hit the aguas
calientes of my shower at the hotel later. Thanks.
The bus ride to Agua Calientes was like driving on a tight rope
down hill. On roads the size of alleyways in New York City, large buses
squeezed a zigzag up and down the mountain’s cliffs with their wheels scraping
the crumbling edges of the road. Around corners the buses would have to take
turns letting each other go or both were going to fall over the edge together.
As frightening as it was, I couldn't help but feel the adrenalin rush of
danger.
"Have
you seen many bus accidents on this road?" I asked Gerson who made himself
comfortable in the seat next to me.
"A
few."
"What!"
"Ha
ha, just mirrors getting knocked off and minor scrapes when the busses get too
close."
"Oh."
Not funny. But I laughed awkwardly
anyway. This is going to be interesting.
I have a feeling Peru isn't quite done testing me just yet.
To
be continued...
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