Summer of 2023, I took a snapshot of my life: one year in New York City, office girl. My Osprey backpack had been collecting dusts for over 8 months; suitcase and Hyatt hotel beds quietly took over as i traveled to client sites, with people i shared nothing in common. I needed a proper escape.
In August, I booked myself a little over 2 weeks of solo vacation. Nothing is planned except for the agenda for my last 5 days: hiking the salkantay trekk to Macchu Picchu. Compared to the Inca trail, the Salkantay offers more solitude and wildlife, also more physically strenuous.
I landed in Lima on the first day. Used to traveling with spontaneity, I made no plan and city hopped along the way. I filled myself with lake ceviche and lomo saltado; drank pisco sour with friends in the pool before and after each sunset sand boarding in Huacachina; did a mini two-day hike prior arrival as warm-up in Arequipa. 10 nights of sleeping on a moving bus and 1770 miles later, i got to Cusco on my 11th day. By 4am the next day, I was on a tuk tuk driving towards Soraypampa, with a starting elevation of 2900m (peak of hike is 5036m). I remember grasping tightly onto a secret pack of cigarette in my side pocket, telling myself, this will be my reward after.
5 days, 4 nights. As I stumbled my way forward each and every day, I was swiped away by the beauty perceived and the joy of conquering the fears unforeseen. My random outbursts of energy carried me through slippery hills and rocky ways, preparing me for another day of overtime.
Me and my group of 14 found joy in sharing some of the tougher moments together: we drank cold ‘hot” chocolate at basecamp, swallowed hardly chewable alpaca meat with water, tasted compact wheat cookies like the ones astronauts eat. I drank teethbrushing water while half asleep, peed in bushes with my butt frozen, and slept under the stars in a stardome that leaked wind and i ended up awake all night sneezing my eyeballs out.
The friendship i made along the way weighs more than anything, but also made the shits i packed on my back feel weightless. With every 10-hour spent on the slippery mountain roads, I had gotten to know a group of 14 from all over the world, trad dust and snows, stumble the path under our half ruined soles (OMG IT RHYMS). Some of them i still message and visit up until this day. They helped me discover something new in me: the perseverance in crisis, quick adjustment to altitude, sense of direction in the wild, ability to remain upbeat no matter what, and… the fact that i snore, and quite loudly too.
5 days rounded out like it never happened. Physcially it left a mark that went away after 1 day of soup drinking and bed rotting; mentally, i dont know what else to say besides “i had a great time.” It also taught me 3 important lessons:
Core memories won’t flee even if they aren’t captured. On this trip, whenever i treid to take photographs, i tried to write, I fell short. Half roll of my film didnt turn out well in the dark room, so i guess lots of them have turned imaginaried, too. The mountains were dwarfed by the sky in my survived images, and my thoughts and feelings were left on the bed side, in the stardome, murmured away.
Find joy in big and small victories. Sometimes I look at the 20miles of elevation behind me and go “wow you really did that in a day,” sometimes I celebrated suffering only minor pains - cuts on the finger, sprained ankle, slightly conjested chest. Both felt like big wins.
One must be truly immersed, challenged, dirted, put under discomfort, to become one with nature and to appreciate its beauty. I can’t wait to recap my next chapter in this book.
