This quote really spoke to me because well, it’s exactly what happened. For almost two weeks post-hike I fumbled with my Machu Picchu pics, unhappy with my complete mental and physical exhaustion upon reaching the summit that caused me to not take as many pics, or high quality ones. Everyone you meet asks how it was, how was the trek, just how beautiful was it? I give the same answer every time, ‘it was beautiful,’ and I shrug my shoulders. It really does defy description. Anthony, (as always), is right… I suppose I am just happy to have lived to see it.

I won’t bore you with all the Incan trail details. It was 4 days of hiking; did I mention the Incans loved their stairs? Really, really loved them. I thought about just making my entire Machu Picchu album pictures of stairs, tbh.

The 2nd day of hike we awoke to our guide pointing at a speck of sky between two mountains. We will cross over there! He proclaimed. Our guide Marco had lots of jokes like this that turned out to not be jokes. I would find out later this pass is metaphorically named “Dead Woman’s Pass” and we had hiked 5 miles up, directly up. This was a big moment for me because well, in no shape or form or world did I believe my body could go up and over a mountain. You know when you are driving and you see a really big mountain in the distance and everyone’s like, ahhhh how pretty! Now imagine seeing that pretty mountain and someone saying, “NOW GO OVER IT!” Like that. “Haha, no but seriously. You’re gonna hike over it. Yes, today. Bring your things.”

(I talk about these moments irl a lot- these little windows of extreme clarity and awe that you only get when traveling. They are beautiful, and fleeting. They fill you with extreme gratuity. How can I be so lucky to be in this moment, right here, of all the places in the world? Seeing this? After pushing yourself to and through extreme environments and experiences, it's a moment of zen in a completely foreign land. They are rare and should be cherished as such.) 

Anyways, this one was one of those moments. I didn’t know I could climb over a mountain, (the word hike doesn’t really do it justice… Did I mention the stairs?). Well I didn’t know I could do that.

On our final day of hiking, wake up call was at 3am. We left the camp at 4, and began trudging downhill with our headlamps. Walking up big stone steps in broad daylight is challenging, but walking down them, in the dark, in the rain, was even more so. Every step on the slick uneven surface was a brush with certain death down the side of the cliff. Two hours, and two falls later, I was over it. I got in my really fun, “Coach’s tired and hangry”, which if you know me, is comically terrible and involves a sort of laugh/cry which makes everyone super uncomfortable to be laughing with a crying person. It had been four days of full body exhaustion, now you got me walking down the side of the mountain in the pouring rain? What’s the point of walking up to just walk down? Isn’t there a train that runs here? Why would anyone do this? Why? Why is the last set of steps called the Gringo Killer? You gotta be kidding me. Alas, life presented me with two options. Walk back to the ranger station and pay for a llama rescue, or eat a granola bar and finish this shit like the grown adventuring woman I am, (or know I can be). And you know what? The Gringo Killer wasn’t even really that bad. 

The trail was hard, in high altitude, with no electricity or running water, in hot days and colder nights, and I realize I am a spoiled American tourist who had porters carrying the tents, and cooking for me, and it was only 4 days... But for real. It was hard. It was also amazing, and one of my favorite accomplishments. I did it! Gold star! I’m never doing it again!  

(Hey family I did the hike with that are reading this- how bout that hike in? I love you guys. Thanks for planning it, Joanna. Everyone, thanks for the laughs and encouragement. Annapurna 2017.}

But let’s talk about the real gem and reason for the hike, Machu Picchu. 

When American adventurer Hiram Bingham went exploring for the lost city of the Incas in the high jungle forests of the Andes Mountains, a local farmer had his 11 year old son show him around their “backyard”. Pablito knew the area better from playing in it. Today we call Pablito's playground Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu in all of it’s mystic, panoramic glory, holds its special distinction or popularity over other ruins because it laid untouched by the Spanish conquistadors. It was never defaced and plundered. Oh, the Spaniards knew about it. They wrote about it. They just couldn't find it.

The thing about MaPi, (MAchu PIcchu- get it?) is, you can't describe it. You can't possible explain, or photograph, how it sits on the face of a mountain overlooking a never ending series of green, tall, jungly mountains that roll off into the distance. My rambling post does it a disservice. It’s breathtaking. And humbling. Everyone should add standing there, feeling it's awe, on their bucket list.

Anyways, remember how I told you Bingham was looking for the Lost City of the Incas when he found Machu Picchu? Well, as lovely as MP is, it's not the Lost City. The Lost City, with all the hidden gold and treasure and wonder, is still out there... hidden in those never ending Andes jungles and peaks. My guess is you have to walk up a few mountains of stairs to find it. It probably is worth it. Stay exploring, my friends.