Many years ago, I found myself standing at the edge of a rickety platform attached to a tree, high in the Costa Rican rainforest. The guide had just attached my harness to the zip line cable with an ominous metallic click. Above the forest canopy, I looked out over the tops of the trees and gauged the depth of the gorge below. I stepped back, knees trembling. Ever so sweetly, I snarled at Al, “Who’s stupid idea was this anyway? Let’s turn back.” Calmly, as always, Al replied “Your idea. Your turn. Now go.”  I took a deep breath and reminded myself that people go zip lining every day and almost no one dies in the process. I decided that statistics were on my side, and I stepped off the platform. The fear quickly dissipated, and I felt the exhilaration of flying.

Seven years later, I hatched a plan for to visit Peru. Time in Lima, time in the Amazon Rainforest, but most importantly time hiking in the Andes and seeing Machu Picchu. At that time, I was 59 years old. I was neither sedentary nor athletic, but especially not athletic. Somehow, I felt ready to tackle the Andes– really big mountains. REALLY. BIG. MOUNTAINS.

I booked our trip through an Australian agency called Intrepid Travel that provided the following description (and I quote) “The trip is recommended for those with a moderate level of fitness”

 Dear Intrepid Travel,  “Moderate Level of Fitness” may need further definition.  Just a thought.

We told our kids, Eric and Ellen, of our plans and let them know we’d probably be out of cell phone range for a while. Eric, then 29, said, “Great, have fun.” Ellen, then 25 and studying for the summer in Geneva, Switzerland, seemed to think that we were going to die. People do, you know.

Our Andes trek began with a flight to Cusco, the ancient Incan capital. Cusco is situated high in the mountains and approaching the runway between the imposing peaks gave us our first experience of the enormity of the Andes. At an elevation of 11,000 feet, this beautiful city is a common location for all sorts of intrepid hikers to adjust to the altitude.

It was in Cusco that we learned that many people don’t acclimate well to such high elevations. It seems that most people bring a prescription medication that prevents altitude sickness. Who knew?   Apparently, everyone in our tour group except us. Maybe we should have done some research.  But by then it was too late.   There were easily available herbal alternatives to prescription medication- coca candy, coca tea- both dispensed liberally by hotels and tour guides.  I am not entirely sure if they are legal in the U.S., but when in Cusco…

It was also in Cusco that we discovered that it would be cold at night in the Andes.  Even without research, we really SHOULD have realized that.  But that oversight was easy to fix and we bought alpaca wool hats and gloves from a little roadside stand.

Al and I had hoped to hike the famous Inca Trail so that we could walk into Machu Picchu through the Sun Gate. However, the Peruvian government limits the number of people on the Inca trail and we made our reservations too late. Instead, we settled for a few days exploring the Quarry Trail.

We spent some time in Cusco getting to know our fellow Quarry Trail hikers. Al and I were the only Americans. Greg and Sharon were world travelers from Australia. Maureen, the oldest of our bunch carried Paddington Bear stuffed toy everywhere. She was writing a children’s story about Paddington’s return to his homeland in the deepest, darkest Peru. The five of us were all between 59 and 65. The remaining hiker was the speed demon known as Ingrid, a super-fit 29 year-old physician.  But fortunately, a very kind and patient super-fit 29 year-old physician.

Our small group of hikers was supported by 2 guides, 2 cooks, a few horsemen and the horses that carried our tents, sleeping bags, food, cooking supplies, the port-a-potty tent and so on.  

Paulo and Tina, our two local guides, assured us that one of them would always be in front, to make sure that we didn’t get lost. The other would be behind, making sure we didn’t lose anyone.

Tina laughed, “We have been doing this for years and haven’t lost anyone yet.”

“We’ll leave early in the morning for Ollantaytambo” Paulo said, “ The bus will take us to the trailhead. The first day is a warm-up. Easy peasy. Don’t worry, the trail is rolly-rolly Inca flat.”

Paulo was a master of alternative facts.

He continued, “You’ll need trekking poles.”

We resisted. “Too much to carry,” I said, “I’ve already got camera gear, water… and besides they’ll interfere with my photography.”

“You’ll need trekking poles.”

We continued to push back, Greg said, “I’ve never used them before, why now?”

“You’ll need trekking poles. You can rent them for $5 for the whole hike.”

In the end we all decided to humor him.   This turned out to be a very good decision.  They helped somewhat on the climb, but were indispensable on the descent.

The next morning we set out, full of optimism and confidence.  We took a bus to Ollayantambo, about 2000 feet below Cusco- a mere 9000 feet above sea level.

We were eager to walk on top of the world.

      
First hour. Hmmm… this is steep, but no worries. Paulo said this is the easy warm up day. It will get easier soon.

Second hour: Well, ok, it is still steep, huff… puff… but this is the easy day.

Third hour: More huffing and puffing. Lots more. Easy Peasy? Jeez Louise…what will tomorrow be like? Is this even possible? I began to wonder if Paulo and Gina knew what they were doing taking a group of aging baby-boomers into the mountains. What would happen if I didn’t make it?

Fourth hour: Gasping… “Al, who’s stupid idea was this?” Raising one eyebrow, he just stared at me.

And so the morning continued.  Step.. huff.  Step… puff.  You get the idea.  Like I said–the Andes are big. REALLY. BIG. I was huffing and puffing.  Fighting the doubts.  Trying to ignore the screaming voices of my twin internal critics, Agnes and Agatha, as they nagged me mercilessly.  “What are you thinking?  Do you know how old you are? Why didn’t you train for this?  You’ll never make it.  What a moron!”  Those voices are the worst.

There was a lunch stop, but I couldn’t eat.  I felt nauseous — maybe from the exertion, maybe the altitude.   I rested in the grass and didn’t think I’d ever get up again.  But soon the call came and we set off.  

“Paulo,” I asked, “What happens if someone can’t make it?”

“Everyone will make it,” he replied, “you have to.”

“But, what if they can’t? Do they ride up on one of the horses?”

“No, the horses are needed to carry all the gear. They can’t carry people too.”

“But what if someone REALLY can’t do it?”

“I suppose they’d have to send a helicopter in.” He said, but rapidly added, “It has never happened before.”

I did not want to be the first. It sounded expensive, and humiliating.

The afternoon was much like the morning.  The trekking poles were helpful and I did find a bit of a rhythm. We finally arrived at our campsite.  We had hiked quite a few miles and climbed over 3000 feet that day.  We had certainly earned our dinner. The cooks and horsemen had arrived well ahead of us with all the gear, set up camp and prepared a miraculous dinner of fresh fish, avocado salad, and purple corn punch.  The six of us commiserated about our fatigue, expressed our gratitude for the cooks and the guides and the horses, and shared our awe of the mountains, but mostly we were ready, at 6:30 p.m., to sleep. 

It was already pitch dark.  And I mean dark.  And quiet. And cold.  There were no towns, no lights other than our flashlights, no noise other than the wind.  It was us and the crystal clear night sky.  That night, for the first time I saw the night sky as it was in the beginning, a sight that preceded sight.  The Milky Way galaxy is no vague concept.  It is not a picture in a textbook.  It is a brilliant river of light that stretches across and dominates the sky.  Much like we do, the Incas named constellations, but they also named the dark spots in that sparking band of light. Paulo showed us the frog, the snake, the llama.   We were tiny specks in the universe looking billions of years back into time and into the infinity of space. 

Bone-tired tiny specks. 

At 5 am the next morning, we were awakened by the guides knocking on our tent. Time to get up!  Really?  The cooks placed basins of warm water for washing up and two cups of coca tea outside our tent to help us get going.  

To our surprise, we never lost cell phone signal on that trek and we decided to call Ellen to let her know that we were doing fine. We told her that we had experienced no significant effects from the altitude, to which she replied, “Great. But really you two need to be more careful and plan better.”

“We’re fine. Don’t worry about us.” I said, thinking that she was already treating us like incompetent old people. Is that how she sees us? Is that what we are?

Nah.

“Everyone ready?” called Paulo as we began the second day of our journey.

“Is the hike easier today?” I asked him.

“Rolly-rolly Inca Flat” he replied smiling benevolently.

Ingrid laughed, “I don’t think the word flat applies to the Andes, but we’ll make it.”

“Easy for you to say,” I replied, secretly hoping I would not be the first person in recorded history be lifted out by helicopter.

We fell into our usual pattern—Ingrid, the 29 year-old speed demon in front, the rest of us, single file behind. Maureen was usually the last in the line. If we got too far ahead, we would stop and rest to wait for her. As soon as she arrived we set out again.

She was a good sport, definitely an intrepid hiker but eventually, she exclaimed, “I really appreciate you waiting for me, but I am the only one who never gets to rest.” She had a point.

At such high elevations, the vegetation was limited to grasses, already dried to shades of gold and brown by the summer sun and wind. The grasses blew gently against the massive red and black rock formations. The sky was cobalt blue and we were excited to see the very rare Andean Condor, but we saw no tourists, and little wildlife. 

Al observed, “I am so glad we took the Quarry Trail. We have the Andes to ourselves. So much better than following a line of people on the Inca Trail.”

Trying to concentrate on anything other than my aching legs and labored breathing, I focused on what was right in front of me—Al’s back and the red clay trail ahead.

One step.

Another.

“Will you Shut Up, Agnes”

One step.

Another.

Left.

Right.

“Agatha, can’t you find someone else to torture?”

Left.

Right.

“Ok, both of you, Pipe down. I’m busy.”

And then….

With no warning whatsoever we reached the Kuychicassa Pass, where heaven revealed herself. We found ourselves at 14,500 feet, face-to-face with the mountain Willka Weqe, standing guard over the Sacred Valley. Willka Weqe, Quechuan for “Holy Tear” evoked both holy tears and holy laughter as I experienced a joy that emanated from the deepest part of my exhausted being.

Willka Weqe, stayed with us for the next two days of our trek. Never again out of sight, always protecting and nourishing the Sacred Valley.

And us.

A couple days later, we were all sitting at a pizza place in Ollantaytambo, drinking beers and Pisco sours. We reflected on our sore muscles, our doubts, our collective victory, and our shared story. I called Ellen and let her know that we lived to tell the tale of our triumphant, if somewhat ill-prepared hike. She was glad to hear we were alive but took one more opportunity to remind us about the importance of planning.

People talk about travel as life-changing and transformative, broadening our global understanding with knowledge of other people and cultures. Fair enough. That is a big part of it. But my greatest transformations occur when I am most out of my comfort zone, when I am faced with the real possibility of failure, when I have no choice but to find a way forward. The Andes reminded me that doubts and challenges are a small price to pay for those unexpected, unanticipated moments that take root deeply in my soul. That night sky. That mountain. This valley. These are the moments that shape me and I am forever grateful for strong legs, stubborn tenacity, and an inquisitive spirit that leads to these moments of soul-changing happiness.

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