IV.II.III – Ascent
IV.II.III
ASCENT
The hike to the Rainbow Mountain was a sort of preamble to what I was about to embark on the following day. I’m talking about a journey that would lead me to one of the seven Wonders of the World – none other than Machu Picchu in all its glory!
Being overly ambitious and completely delusional, I opted for the five-day Salkantay trek that has you climb higher than the classic four-day Inca Trail . Difficulty aside, all I wanted was to experience something similar to the Ciudad Perdida trek once again. And let me tell you, the Salkantay trail did not disappoint… Rightfully named after the Quechuan word “sallqa” which roughly translates to savage or wild, the trail winds around the Eastern Cordillera – a harsh and unforgiving mountain range with peaks soaring above 6000 metres! The highest point we’d get to, as we were explained during a debriefing meeting held one day before the trek, would be at around 4600 metres at the Salkantay Pass.
The following day, after a three-hour ride, we arrived at Soraypampa, a lodge facing the imposing mountain we’d be climbing. There, along with some other ten trekkers I’d be climbing with, we got to relax and enjoy each other’s company – the ‘calm before the storm’ kinda fun. As we ate, laughed and recounted all our favourite tales, I remember thinking to myself how weird it is how I always stumble upon such groups. Ones that seem to have been destined to be together, ones that are kind of a perfect match. I felt the same thing in Colombia with the Ciudad Perdida family and again in Hungary with my fellow exchange students. Isn’t it weird how all these random strangers from all around the world would come together to form such an amazing group?
On our first day, we ambushed the sunrise as we prepared for one of the longest days of the trek. We were told to expect a steady, one hour and half uphill climb to what would be our first stop; Humantay Lagoon, at an altitude of around 4 kilometres. Our definition of ‘steady’ was quite different than theirs, as for us this implied tons of breaks and pit stops, which we oh so rightfully needed in order to regain our breaths given the scant amount of oxygen at high altitudes.
But slowly and surely, we managed. Awaiting us was one of the most spectacular views I had ever seen in my life. Nestled in between the snow-capped, icy peaks of the Humantay and Salkantay mountains, is this crystalline body of water coloured in every shade imaginable of blue and green. No photo could ever do it justice – it’s just that gorgeous. Legend has it that anyone who dares touch the lagoon’s freezing water will never age. We’ll see about that; not gonna give up on my skincare regimen quite yet though. On the lagoon’s edges, numerous stones piled on top of each other can be found. We were told these are offerings called ‘apacheta’ set up by shamans and travellers alike. These are usually dedicated to Pachamama; the Incan version of mother nature.
After taking it all in (or rather, taking in as much as possible), we proceeded with the trek. That first stop, much to our disbelief and dismay, marked only ten percent of the day’s progress. This was followed by some three hours of trekking on gradually ascending terrain, never wanting for all kinds of vistas and sceneries all throughout.
Couldn’t have said the same about oxygen in my lungs though. I mean seriously! Before heading out for this trek I was expecting things to be different from my trek to the Ciudad Perdida. Since then, I had quit smoking, started working out and was in the best shape of my life. I thought the Marius that would always be trudging behind everyone along with a sixty-year-old was long gone. Boy did I underestimate the powers of oxygen. Be that as it may, it was a different kind of shortness of breath. This was the kind that would go away after a few seconds of respite. And so I didn’t completely give up on this new, fit, albeit still out of breath Marius.
On the way to our first lunch spot, a new companion had suddenly shown up. Cue Pokémon battle music: A wild llama appeared! Come to think of it, why are there no llama Pokémon yet? Satoshi Tajiri and Ken Sugimori, I expect one in the next generation! Anyways. We named the llama Larry. Larry the llama acted as our interim guide, always one step ahead of us, occasionally looking back to see we were still behind him.
Turns out, Larry wasn’t guiding us so much as trying to get to his calves before us. Having failed to realise we were close to his den, I took a step too close – which, I concede to be my fault, and that’s when things went sour. He must have felt threatened and just as he was ready to pounce at me, I swung my trekking pole at it from afar with a cat-like reflex I never thought I could muster. Luckily, it successfully managed to scare Larry away without either of us getting hurt. Though safe, I had lost a travelling companion, a friend and a guide in one fell swoop. As distraught as I might have been, I persevered. We persevered. Until we got to Salkantay Pass; the highest point of the entire trail. There the group got to recoup and rest for a bit.
As well-rested as one can be after a thirty-minute break, our journey resumed. This time round, three hours of downhill were awaiting us, and boy, was I surprised. As we went down, it started getting easier to breathe. Like a lot easier.
That was when I realised how much I had actually improved since my trek in Colombia. I practically ran down the route and covered three hours’ worth of the trail in half as much time. Does that sound braggy? No? Well, what about this? At that moment, I could have crowned myself King of the Downhill, if I may brag so myself. I know, I know, I’m nowhere near being an athlete, I do know that. But I grew up believing I could never ever be one of those sporty, jock kinda guys. I used to think it’s either books or sports, no in betweens. And I was definitely on the book side. I mean seriously, ask anyone, I barely know how to walk. You might think I’m joking but I’m really not. Apparently, much like Jamie Dornan, I toe-walk (and this is where the comparisons stop); something which is commonly done by kids though most outgrow it.
I’m also incredibly clumsy and uncoordinated. Many a cups of hot java have been sinfully spilt from these hands. Oh and I remember tripping down every single staircase I’d climb back in my twelfth year of life. Again, you might say I’m exaggerating but let me give you some concrete proof. On most occasions, I’d be chosen second-to-last during team sports. True, being chosen last might make for a more melodramatic read, but I’m not gonna start making stuff up now. Anyways, this never made me feel like I‘m missing out or that I’m inept or that there’s something wrong with me. Whenever I play something my aim is to win; why would I want someone who’ll drag me down in my team? I was always resigned to the fact that I’m not good and that was that; I’d still play and have fun, but that’s it.
Being physically active and doing these kinds of things hadn’t been on my radar for a long, long time and when I started smoking and discovered chicken wings, the very idea of me ever being healthy was thrown out the window. Then came Colombia’s trek and then Hungary and things started to change. I started lifting weights and doing some running and jump rope and whatever and I proved myself that hey, at least I can do those things. And that was enough. Not when it comes to going downhill though. Hell, I can imagine doing that competitively. As long as there are no uphills in the mix of course.
As my shadow and my fellow trekkers caught up, we finally arrived at Wayracmachay; our first campsite. We managed to get there right before dusk, where one of the most gorgeous vistas awaited us. The rosy pink-coloured sky as the sun descended over the icy peaks of the Salkantay mountain… Being unable to move was a combination of being mesmerised by such a panorama and being so exhausted by a day’s worth of trekking alike.
