Trekking Machu Picchu is easier said than done. Up, down, up, down, steeper and steeper steps. You turn a corner and suddenly you find you are on a step at the side of the mountain, with nothing between you and the great beyond, If you fall, say a prayer, you'll be off to meet your maker.
The next mountain over from Machu Picchu, called Huyana Picchu, meaing greater peak, is even scarier. Several members of our tour group decided to climb it. It's a sheer climb up the rock face.
George and I discussed it for about 30 seconds. He claimed he wasn't game (I think he was, but he knew I wasn't. I'm terribly afraid of heights. So why you ask yourself am I climbing Machu Picchu in the first place. Because of the thrill. And to be able to say I did it. But Huyana Picchu is much more challenging, taller, and includes the prospect of having to watch ever step as you climb back down if you make it up. That's the part that terrifies me.
So we simply continuing climbing Machu Picchu. At parts my breath gets stuck in my chest. George gets ahead of me, looks back and a dot of worry frowns his face. He comes back toward me. "Ok?" he asks. "Yes," I whisper, "but will you hold my hand around this next part?"
My strong and loving husband helped to ensure that an anxiety attack didn't keep me from progressing.
It's not like the U.S. Spots like this would be roped off, corralling you down a very narrow center pathway, with something to hold on to. Not in Machu Picchu. It's you and the gods and the great beyond, as you climb higher, teetering in some places on the very edge of the mountain.
Machu Picchu is a deeply spiritual place. (Do you remember Shirley Maclaine's out-of-body experience in the Temple of the Sun in Machu Picchu. I like Shirley, but didn't put much stock in any of that until I stood in the place where she stood. It's a deeply moving experience. Incas worshipped here, building temples to the sun and the moon. You feel that spirt suurounding you. At one point I found tears dropping down my face in both joy and sadness -- joy to have made it so far -- and sadness that my son was not here to see it with us.
It was the year after the death of my only child but I felt his presence with me just as surely as if he were physically there. There is somethig mystical and magical about this place.
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