The Road To Machu Picchu: Part Six - Only Peace

I awoke on Day Three in high spirits.

I had just climbed Dead Woman's Pass the day before. The hardest part was over. In my mind, everything else would be icing on the cake. Or so I thought.

Turns out there are two more passes to climb on the third day. The first pass, which is really the Second Pass, is a steep hike (nowhere near as steep as DWP), and the Third Pass is an up and down trek through the absolutely stunning Cloud Forest. And after the Third Pass awaits a downhill stretch that is so brutal, so punishing, that it is affectionately known as "The Gringo Killer".

Oh by the way, Day Three is the longest day of the Inca Trail.

At this point, I should bring up the weather. Now, Day One was quite warm. Day Two was cloudy and eventually rainy (there was even hail). Day Three started out incredibly chilly. What do you expect when you're 13,000 feet up? And yes, rain did fall, and everyone busted out the backpack covers and ponchos...except me. All I had was my super thin rain slicker over my perspiration-soaked fleece and t-shirt. And as I trudged up the Second Pass, rain beating down on my face, my glasses fogged up so much that I could barely see, my hands nearly frozen, I thought to myself, "Well. It couldn't get any worse, could it?"And then it started to snow.

This is why Inca Trail is one of the most badass hikes around. What other trail gives you a mix of sun, wind, rain, hail, snow, along with horses, burros, sheep, llamas, stray dogs, and unsanitary public toilets? If you know of another trail like this, please let me know.

Because the elements were so chaotic and I was in "icing-on-the-cake" mode, I took my sweet time on Day Three. And because I was so laid-back this day, I found myself hiking alone. It can be quite daunting hiking the Inca Trail on your own. I admit, I would have like to have been in the company of my friends, or the guides, or the porters, or the stray dogs. Alas, I was on my own.


*Photo by: Allan Yu*

As I walked down from the Second Pass, away from the snow and right through the Cloud Forest, I would pause and take in the ambient sounds of the Andes. More often than not, I would hear silence. Absolute silence. It was unnerving. Not even the birds were chirping.

I continued to hike. More solitude. More thoughts to myself. More tranquilidad. And then suddenly, unknowingly, my thoughts turned to Dad.

My father loved the outdoors. He would take me and my family to various campgrounds around Southern California. Unfortunately, very little of that zest for nature and such rubbed off on me. He tried to teach me how to pitch a tent. I balked. He tried to get me to cast a fishing reel into the river. I chose to play my GameBoy.

Walking the Trail on Day Three, with nobody around, I found myself talking to Dad. I told him that I missed him. I told him that I wish he was there when I got to the top of Dead Woman's Pass. I told him that I wish he was here hiking the Inca Trail with me.

I said all these things aloud. I was met with silence. I wept more tears.

The Sacred Inca Trail means many things to many people. For some it's a chance to learn more about this civilization of centuries ago. For others it's a chance to see the majestic Andes and their vegetation and wildlife. But these moments of solitude on Day Three were what defined the hike for me. Dad passed away three years ago, and in those three years I found myself struggling to cope. I would think about him, but only as a passing thought, and then I would move on with my daily life. Here on the trail, there are no distractions. There are no project deadlines, no meetings. There is no TV, no DVDs, no emails to check, no blogs to read. Solamente La Tranquilidad. Only peace. Through the peace, I was able to reconnect with Dad. I was able to cope. I was able to heal.

That's why I hiked The Inca Trail.

More photos from Day Three can be found here.