The Inca Trail and Its Rainbow

Here is where I am supposed to rave about Machu Picchu, how its splendor is indescribable and too majestic for words. It was named one of the Seven Wonders of the World in 2007, for crying out loud. And I agree with all of these things, but I am aware there are only so many times we can read about these monuments and the grandiose fascination they bring us. And besides, getting there was 3/4 of the fun. 

Hiking for four days was beyond a breath of fresh air because it was perhaps the freshest air I have ever breathed in and, believe me, I was heaving it in. The thrill of the escape to a completely untouched environment where you are swallowed by mountains and suffocated by a sky of stars brought tears to my eyes and a new definition of awe to my knowledge. Yes, sometimes I would use my surrounding splendor as an excuse to stop on an uphill climb, but there were many times where I would stop and stand motionless, trying to remember this feeling of being lost in the best way possible. 

The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu is about the length of a marathon in total, with the second day climbing 1,200m with 90-degree staircases and hills that continue for about five hours. The trail is unique because of its mixture of microclimates: the Andes mountain and the Amazon jungle. A jungle in the clouds is a cloud forest, and the trees, flowers, mosses and views change every few minutes from a rushing waterfall in wet, forest green to bright pink flowers under the complete shade of moss-covered trees to coming up on peaks to views of bushy green. Just like hidden Easter eggs, Incan ruins pop up randomly. The fortresses lie in areas with amazing views, as the Incans needed look-out points. Looking up to always see snow peaks and sunshine gleaming through narrow valleys became a comfort, even if I was taken aback every time. 

We camped at night and would be in bed quite early. The days were filled with hiking, and the second day included crossing Dead Woman's Pass; the name gives the pass's threat away. Our trek group played Charades and grew with that camp-fire closeness, and Annie and I would snuggle in our sleeping bags after staring silently at the stars only to awake at 5am or earlier to a cup of tea and brisk mountain wind. Our layers would be off within the hour though, as the sun shines hard when you are up so high. Groups of alpacas and donkeys passed us, and the monarch butterflies had an army. And the thought of the views at the top pumped energy into us for the endless, tiring climbs. 

I'll save the last day for another day. I might have read a lot about it, but it still deserves a post of its own.