I dream all night long about all kinds of random things. As I wake, my hazy memory attempts to piece it all back together, most notably the part of my dream where I applied self-tanner, but only to the right side of my face and body. I think that part happened just before my long-time friend made a guest appearance to tell me it was time for us to run that 5K we had been planning together except, I of course had no runnings shoes. Oh well, no problem. We head out for the race anyway, but that scene quickly turned into a new one where he was urging me to get moving because we were going for pancakes. So this morning, when we all gathered for breakfast in the mess tent and real pancakes were actually served, my mind was a bit blown.

Today, we will hike approximately 12 miles descending over 4,500’, but we are told it will not be as steep as yesterday. I hear knees all around me giving thanks! As we are briefed by our guides, the day ahead sounds leisurely, almost walk in the park like as compared to what we have experienced. I welcome the change of pace and am excited at the opportunity to explore as we go.

Before we head out of camp, the perfect sitting rock calls my name and so, I take a seat and reach my hands down to touch the Earth. The sun is shining down from above, warming me from the outside in and just next to me, the waterfall gives way to a flowing stream, tiny specks of water splashing up onto the grass nearby still wet with morning dew. I make my offering to Pachamama and give thanks once again before starting our trek for the day. As I look around, I feel a small lump forming in my throat, a lump of overwhelming gratitude for the beauty surrounding me. Before any tears can form, I close my eyes, blink them three times, and then perform some self Reiki on the rock. I can’t think of a more perfect way to start this phenomenal day.

We are only just half way through this journey and each and every day I find myself thinking it can’t possibly get better, but I am wrong. It keeps getting better. Each day that passes, around every bend a new, mind blowing view comes into sight, a new epic experience is had, a new life-long memory is made. The further we trek, the more spiritually connected I feel to the natives, both human and more than human, the land, and the history and depth of these places I am simply a visitor to. How lucky am I to be here now, to have traveled here, to be experiencing THIS?

As we head out from camp, we begin our descent of the Pamacahuana Valley on a grassy, wet path following an ancient Inca canal that is still used by scattered farmers. The landscape is beautiful. So beautiful in fact that Uri, our guide leading us today, misses the right turn to veer us onto the dirt trail that we will follow next. Even the guides can get mesmerized from all this beauty! Thankfully, Nep gives a yell to redirect us all back onto the trail.

We pass through an area with huts scattered, a type of small community, and there are piles of straw in the distance as well as smaller piles nearby in the field. We learn that both are used to grow potatoes, the main crop and food for the families here. I find myself looking around with curiosity at the nearby huts which have only recently gained access to electricity for use after dark, thinking about how the villagers here were likely born here and will likely die here. I think about how they know the valley and the surrounding mountains like the backs of their hands. I think about how they know the weather, wet season and dry season, the flow of the canal, the water levels from one season to the next. I think about how they know their crops and the livestock and how to work their land. They know their family and fellow villagers, perhaps meeting passers by here and there. This is life as they know it. How interesting it is that our lives, our lifestyles, our experiences are in large part determined by where we are born. Coming from the states where the theme seems to be earn more, get more, hoard more, bigger is by far better and seeing the contrast of how the natives here live coupled with their happiness and pure joy, I have to wonder how we seem to be getting it so wrong back home. Many of the people here at first glance seem to have next to nothing when in fact, they have everything they need. As I observe and think and take this all in, I make a mental note to take THIS realization back home with me.

Less IS more.

The pace today is definitely slower and feels more relaxed than the norm. As we continue on, I find myself becoming more mindful of the plants, the flowers, the rocks, all of the edges around me on the trail. I worry less and less about moving quickly and focus more and more on the small details of the here and now, the flowing river to my left, the giant swaying Eucalyptus trees off in the distance, the near 84 heart rocks I have seen before even arriving to lunch. It is hot and dry and the trail is covered in dirt that kicks up with every single step each one of us takes. I am covered in thick, caked on layers of dirt, sweat, sunblock, and deet, all of it a type of war paint from this journey. I wear it proudly while at the same time thinking I may need to go through a car wash to remove it all in the end.

After a few hours of hiking, we pass by the town of Wayllabamba, marking the start of the Inca Trail on our journey. Shortly after, we arrive to Paucarcancha, a historic Incan archaeological site. This Incan citadel, situated between Salkantay Mountain and Machu Picchu, is known for being a strategic military guard post as well as a religious center. With its eleven terraces used for growing various crops, such as corn and potatoes, it felt massive at first sight. Little did I know how small it would wind up feeling as compared to future historical sites we would visit. As we arrived and began to explore, I quickly realized the higher I went, the better the views, and so up, up, and up I climbed. The site was marked by not only massive terraces, but also ruins, high walls, and various sections that at one time were occupied by the Inca people. Harry, our guide that I dubbed “the walking encyclopedia”, shared so much history with us that I found myself overwhelmed by it all, only grasping small pieces at a time. I wished that he would write it all down and compile it into a nice, neat book that would be gifted to us at the end of this adventure. No such luck would be had.

After exploring the site, we headed downhill on the dirt trail toward lunch. After a short walk, we came upon the river and as we turned to the right, a small bridge allowing us to cross. There, in front of my eyes, stood an archway made of beautiful greenery through which were our mess tents, set up and ready to go. We had entered a small area that felt like someone’s back yard and we were greeted by a Peruvian woman with a bucket of cold beverages, including cervezas. I don’t even love drinking beer, but when I locked eyes with those cold bottles, my mouth watered and that was that.

After getting some help to remove the cap, I sat in the sunshine with a friend enjoying that cold beer, like a reward for the work of the day thus far. We wound up in deep conversation about life, death, the loss of loved ones, and the fact that if you are open to it, there are signs of those that have passed all around you just waiting to be seen. It was emotional, raw, and real. I appreciated every second of that conversation, the connection formed, and the comfort of spiritual presence felt all around.

After yet another phenomenal lunch and some time spent resting in the shade, we continued on to make our way to our camp for the night. We had not come in contact with more than a handful of other humans along the trek to this point and the ones that we did, they were all natives. We had been spoiled really to be off on a remote trek for days, far away from all other humans, just our group exploring and experiencing these seemingly untouched lands. But today, after reaching the original Inca Trail, we began to see many other groups beginning their trek, still in clean clothes with fresh legs, their crews trekking ahead of them with their gear. The trail got busier for a brief period of time until we headed off track toward camp and back into the solitude of our own little world.

Just before stopping for the day, we took a break at a site overlooking the Llactapata ruins below as well as Chamana, our camp for the evening ahead. We would be lucky enough to sleep at the foot of these ruins this evening, watch the sun set beyond them and wake to their views in the morning. Pinch me. I must be dreaming!

At our break point, we were given the chance to climb a steep set of small stone steps up to what was once a religious offering site. Little did I know that these steep and small stone steps would be my precursor to the Stairs of Death at Huayna Picchu in the coming days. The wind was whipping pretty good, but I was all in on this so I turned my hat backwards to avoid it blowing away and began making my way up. I thought the views from our break point were good, but they were nothing compared to this lookout spot. Just WOW!

We had heard there would be showers at the Chamana camp, and after arriving we learned that was a fact. About half of the group quickly lined up to clean up, the first opportunity we had been given to shower in days now. I think just a few of the group were gifted with warm water and so by the time I made my way down only cold water remained. After the heat and sweat of the day, I welcomed the chance to immerse myself in the ice cold water and begin to remove at least some of the layers of war paint. It had been years since I appreciated taking a shower as much as I did today!

Lucky for us, there was a local home nearby that served as a store complete with local wine and beer. And so, we gathered around in a circle of camp chairs set on this majestic spot in the world, views of the ruins in site, shared stories of the trek and had ourselves some drinks. We passed around cancha, a type of Andean toasted corn, and some tequenos, and one by one, empty bottles of cerveza and wine began piling up. Eventually, we had DJ’s swapping control of the music, a type of mini battle with cheering from all sides, and a dance party that broke out, beginning with us each, one by one, taking our turn to make our way to the middle of the circle and show off our moves. Laughter erupted, loud singing emerged, and at some point, just in time for dinner, we bought the local store out of all of their red wine. The stars lit up the sky as we wobbled our way to the mess tents for dinner and I looked up in awe, my face cracking from smiling so hard. What a night!

As I climbed into my tent for the night, I found myself in a sea of snores, something I had yet to experience. I quickly realized that at this camp site, our tents had been set up in a different order than all the nights before, placing me smack dab in the center of four buzzsaws. Thank God for that wine and my earplugs. I closed my eyes and before I knew it, was fast asleep. Tomorrow would bring a whole set of new adventures.