Pilgrimage to Machu Picchu: Part Seven - The Road Goes Ever On

[shanmonster]

When we woke up, we were on the periphery of cloud. The morning was chilly, but not nearly as cold as we'd been prepared for. The porters had placed bowls of hot, steaming water just outside everyone's tents so we could clean and warm ourselves before breakfast. When I got out of my tent, I was confronted by this intimidating beauty:



The snow-covered pass nestled up between the two mountains hadn't been snowy last night. That's Warmihuañusca (Dead Woman's Pass). We would be ascending and crossing it today. Although the distance travelled isn't huge (about 10 km), the climb is steep and Warmihuañusca tops out at 4,215 meters above sea level. It would be our most physically demanding day of the trip. In a state of conflicted excitement, I both looked forward to the climb and dreaded it. Physically, I felt pretty good. The hike yesterday hadn't tired me out, and despite the thunderstorm during the night, I was well rested. Kyle, however, was tired, wet, and sore. He was about to amplify all that.

The cloud cover was ominous. I hoped it wouldn't rain. The path is treacherous enough without having to deal with slippery, wet footing. My hiking shoes aren't waterproof, so I put my wool-socked feet in plastic bags before putting the shoes on. I was lucky the shoes didn't get soaked in the downpour. Kyle and I dug out our sexy plastic ponchos and put them in our pockets. I stowed the wet cameras in my bag and hoped beyond hope that my iPhone's charge would last 3 more days. It was the only usable camera I had, and there are no places to charge the battery on the trail.

We ate our breakfast of quinoa porridge and coca tea, then ascended the steep cliff-edge trail into the clouds. The dampness had a cold, clammy way of permeating to our marrow. I was glad I had wool gloves to keep my fingers warm.



The moisture in the air grew thicker and thicker until it passed the border from mist to full-on rain, and we all donned our ponchos. Kyle and I were at the front of the expedition with David. This would not last. As the climb became steeper, Kyle and I decelerated steadily. By our first short break, Kyle was tired, sweaty, and cranky, and we were at the back of the pack with Jesus.



A few hours in, I was still feeling ok. The climb was hard, but all my physical training was paying off. My legs and back felt strong; my breathing was steady and controlled; I didn't need to pee frequently. As the trail becomes steeper, it becomes less pathway and more crooked, uneven, and sometimes slippery stone steps. I walked a bit faster than Kyle, but always kept him in view. I would pause ahead of him to take photos, and share water with him when he caught up with me.

We continued ascending into our first of the cloud forests. It was around here that the stairs began to take their toll on me. The irregularity of the steps necessitated my always looking down at my feet while on the move. One misstep could mean a sprained ankle or worse, and as we became more exhausted, the risk of taking that misstep increased. Because I was looking downward while lugging a heavy backpack, my neck and shoulders had mutated into a hot, aching mass of tension. I concentrated on rolling my shoulders back and pulling them down, on not crunching through my neck, and on keeping my abs engaged and back strong. It helped me keep going, but I still felt the strain.



It was around then, while I had entered the first stages of fatigue, that Jesus informed us we were halfway up the mountain to the pass.

Halfway.

Only halfway.

It couldn't be halfway. We must've hiked for a million hours, and already climbed a gajillion meters. How could we possibly go for twice as long? And then that wasn't even halfway for the day's hiking. That was only halfway to the summit. We still had to go down the other side of the mountain.

On the inside, I was saying, "Kill me now." On the outside, I took a big breath of air, squared my shoulders, and said, "Bring it."

All around us, the forest was verdant with moss and foliage. Bromeliads nested on tree branches. The air was so clean it smelled freshly scrubbed. Birdsong and the sound of rushing water filled our ears. We were far from motorized vehicles of any sort. There were no trains, planes, or automobiles in earshot. There wouldn't be for another two days.




The sun still hadn't completely crested the mountain tops, but it soon would. In the meantime, the cool air made hiking more manageable, and it had stopped raining. I enjoyed the shady side of the mountain. The chiaroscuro effect showcases the austere drama of rock and sky.



While the shady mountains are cold and stark, the cloud forest is vibrant with life and colour and water. Even though it wasn't the rainy season during our visit, high-speed rivulets and waterfalls ricocheted down through the greenery. The trail has drainage trenches built in every so often. I expect they're white-water sluiceways during the rainy season. They are significant tripping hazards in any season.

The mountain wilderness is ancient and primal. It's inexplicable to me that some tourists mar this by tossing candy wrappers and beverage bottles out into it. I wanted to pick up all the litter, but I had nowhere to stow it. I plodded onward, awed by the beauty, and saddened by the blight of plastic garbage.



The end was still nowhere in sight. It was exhausting and disheartening. My shoulders were having occasional spasms. My traps were rocks made of hot pain. We would have no lunch break until we got to our camp on the other side of the mountain.



And then the sun started to come out--burning its way over mountaintop and through cloud cover--and I was utterly pooched. What residual energy I held evaporated as soon as the sun's merciless white rays bored into my skin. All of a sudden, the heat, altitude, and muscle soreness hit me with a triple whammy.

The mountain did not care how tired we were. It continued on being beautiful and glorious.



My legs were exhausted. Lifting my foot high enough to put it on the next step took everything out of me each and every time. I was already going slowly to begin with, but now I was moving at a snail's pace, and a moseying snail, at that.

Kyle passed me. I think he thought I was waiting for him. I wasn't. His slow and steady pace was kicking my ass.

And then it got harder.

We left the cloud forest and entered the highlands. We could finally see our big goal: Warmihuañusca loomed over us, a huge stone alp spackled with snow. Llamas grazed in the pastures above us. We paused briefly to have a meagre snack and sip of water on a meadow. I took my backpack off for a bit. Although it was a relief, my neck and shoulders remained in pain. I took a look around. There were squat toilets here. I used one, and for the first time, felt a bit wobbly while squatting. My legs vibrated with the effort.



I didn't dare sit down while at the meadow. If I sat down, I might not be able to get back up. I teetered and wobbled around a little bit. Kyle didn't say much. He looked shellshocked. He refused to go to the bathroom, even though he needed to go. He had a legitimate worry he wouldn't be able to hold the squat without falling.

We stared up at the looming mountain.



It ignored us.

We took a big breath and started the final ascent.

I thought the mountain was trying to kill us, but it wasn't even toying with us. We were far beneath its notice.

The air is so thin at this altitude, that even at a slow walk, I was breathing like I was being chased by an angry bear. I fought to steady my breathing. I didn't dare let it get too far out of control. I did not want to deal with an asthma attack. The woman we called Lovely was already struggling with one. I'd seen her taking her puffer on several occasions, and she had a nasty, persistent cough. I concentrated on slow, full exhalations, and inhaled through my nose. It didn't matter. I was still sucking air long, hard, and fast. I felt like next to no oxygen was getting into my system. The sun continued to bore down on me, and the sparcity of oxygen left me enervated.

Somehow, I plodded on.



And somehow, I managed to bend down, make a snowball, and lob it at Kyle.

I kept going, one painful, terrible step at a time. It was mercifully beginning to cool off now that we'd passed the snow line. I was wearing just a thin t-shirt. I paused and put my jacket on, and that's when Kyle nailed me with his own snowball.

I looked up at the tor. I saw a human skyline. I was almost there.



People waved to me, calling out encouragement.

They were watching.

Augh! I couldn't let them see me be all weak and pathetic! And so I pulled a total miracle out of my ass and sprinted the last 200 meters or so. When I reached the top, everyone was cheering. I staggered around on the summit and found something to lean on. I was sobbing for breath, and each inhalation felt like flesh being torn from my trachea. Concentration brought the breathing back down to a semblance of normal, and I joined in on the cheering for Kyle, Lovely, and Jesus.

We all made it!



We rested for only a couple of minutes, and then it was time to descend. As soon as we crossed to the other side, the wind became vicious and brisk. The cold stiffened us up, and we quickly put on all the layers we could. I wore a couple of sweaters, my toque, my jacket, my scarf, and two pairs of gloves. It helped a lot.

This side of the mountain was far more perilous. The stones were awash in slush. Our walking poles became even more useful. They helped with footing and grip. I slipped a few times, but just managed to keep my footing. Despite the biting wind, concentrating on not taking a tumble was making me sweat buckets.

I was grateful I'd thought to line my shoes with plastic bags. The slush was unavoidable, and although I could feel the cold creeping into my shoes, my feet were neither freezing nor wet.

There was a moment of terror when Kyle lost his footing and fell, landing on his ass. "Are you ok?" I gasped. I was worried he'd wrenched his knee in the fall.

It took him a moment to be sure that he was. We were both hugely relieved.

But now Kyle had decided he couldn't ignore biology any longer. We could see some squat toilets further down the mountain. A long river of slush led to them. I could see no dry path. And the toilets also looked like they were surrounded by a moat filled with slush.



I shall not speak of what transpired there. Just know that it was not very good, and took a long, long time. Jesus waited back on the trail for us. We were the last people in the group. I think we were the last people in any of the groups that day.

We waded back out to the trail and continued downward. The pain in my neck and shoulders remained as intense as ever, but now it was being eclipsed by the pain in my left knee. Going down this many stairs is hell on the knees.

I could see a couple of figures heading our way. It was David and a porter. They didn't even look tired.

I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that these porters are superheroes. While we dragged our tired asses up the mountain, porters trotted by. While we limped and stumbled down this jeapardous slope, the porters were running. I don't mean figuratively. They were literally running down this mountain while carrying enormous packs.

They are gods, and the gods were about to take mercy upon us. David was worried about us, because we were so far behind. At our current pace, he was afraid that we wouldn't reach our camp in time for lunch. He and a porter wanted to carry our backpacks, so we could devote all our attention to the descent without having to deal with the imbalance and extra weight of our packs.

Wow.

I felt bad that they'd come all this way back for us, but at the same time, I felt relief. If looking downward while going up the mountain was hard, looking downward while descending was even more brutal on my neck. I accepted with enormous gratitude.

These guys are awesome. They go above and beyond.

So off they went with our packs...at a run, of course.

Eventually, we did make it to the camp. This one was a large camp, with several tour groups using it. Once again, porters lined up to cheer for us. I wanted to cheer for them. "Gracias, muchas gracias," I murmured, and staggered to the dining tent. I ate my lunch quietly, and then I dragged myself to my tent and stared out at the mountains.



In total, it had taken us about nine hours to hike ten kilometres. I dragged myself back out again when tea time was announced.

Today was the birthday of Kerry, one of the women in our group. While we all sat slumped on our stools, the chef walked into the tent with an enormous grin and a birthday cake. Yes, just to cement their permanent standing as gods, the cooks had somehow magicked up a proper birthday cake in their kitchen tent. And all this after carrying ridiculous amounts of gear over the mountain pass. Kerry was so moved that she cried. I very nearly did, too.



Later, over supper, David told us ghost stories about the area we were in. He spoke of how the ghost of an old man haunted the bathroom. He told us the even more disturbing tale of how a woman had dropped her expensive sunglasses down the hole of a squat toilet and had fished them back out.

These bathrooms were the worst ones on the entire trail. Because there were so many tour groups using this campsite at the same time, the bathroom was receiving heavy use. Now, bear in mind that everyone had just crossed that mountain today and their legs were exhausted. Now add on to that that majority of the people aren't comfortable with squatting to go to the bathroom in the first place. Much horribleness and terrible aim ensue. I would've written those sunglasses off. Adios.

The terrible tease is that at this campsite, there are showers. However, there is no hot water, and the cold water is very cold, indeed.

I don't think anyone braved it.

The sun was slipping behind the mountains, and I gazed up at the sky. Maybe I'd see the southern cross and all those other constellations of the southern hemisphere tonight.

Nope.

The sky was clouding over again.



I went to my tent, crawled into my sleeping bag, and dreamed of climbing mountains.



(To be continued....)

Comments

[robert t wilson (from livejournal.com)]

cool writeup Shan!

[shanmonster.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

[clevermanka.livejournal.com]

Holy shit.

[sidruid.livejournal.com]

Hey, first just wanted to say I'm loving the photo-enhanced storytelling. Great stuff.

As for your day on the mountain, reminds me of my first major hike (70lb pack, i weighed 95lbs), 3Kft up, 1Kft down to camp. I was in the back group the whole way, and I've no idea how I made it (I did sit down at lunch, and really wasn't going to get back up -- totally ready to turn back). The last 1/4 mile one of the instructors (a tall, bearded guy) came back, slung my pack over one shoulder and I trudged after him to camp. That was day one of 7 days; I became a much better hiker as a result of that experience.