So proud of my girls- they are like little mountain goats bounding to the top of the passes first. I nearly didn’t’ do this trek because I thought they wouldn’t do very well with their questionable digestive health over the past month, and with a bunch of strapping 20 year olds in the group. I can’t imagine missing this. Aside from being with the kids at Puma Marca, this is the best experience of our trip. The beauty is beyond description because it is so different from anything I have seen. It reminds me of Alaska combined with what I imagine Scotland to look like, combined with someone’s superb imagination of the most beautiful place on earth. The girls and I are the first ones down this valley and we can’t help but run and leap in this verdant beauty. We are surrounded by high peaks, mist, pools of water, and a green, spongy, mat plant that completely covers the ground. We feel like we are the only people and it is the beginning of the world. It seems like a dinosaur could walk into the scene and we wouldn’t be surprised. We have trouble waiting for the rest of the group because we can’t stop walking and being filled by the raw beauty.

This is the land of the Incas. The land of the proud Quechua people, distinct from the Spanish. This landscape looks exactly as it did during the time of the Incas in the 1500’s, and then again exactly as it did with the first people. It is such a natural combination of people living with the environment. The llamas and alpacas are the same animals that have been here 6-7,000 years (domesticated from the vicunas and guanacos). The inconspicuous homes are made of the same rocks and Andes grass that is covering the hills. There are no roads here, only trails that lead up and over the high misty passes and down through the valleys. As we hike the trails we are suddenly joined by several young kids, or a mother and baby, or a lone man with a horse in tow. They are dressed in colorful hand-woven alpaca clothing that looks like their finest attire. Our guide explains that this is what they wear daily. It is like artwork and I devour its beauty as I pass in my drab head-to-toe REI hiking attire.

The people are curious, or passing by, or seeing what we might offer them. They are very humble, never imposing. On our second night after climbing our third and highest pass at over 15,000 feet, five women suddenly appear at our campsite and spread their beautiful hand-woven blankets near our tents. They display large bottles of Cusquena beer beside hand woven socks and alpaca hats. I really want a beer, but I hold off because I need to respect the altitude and instead buy a pair of socks. As dark approaches they pack up and head back to their homes that are hidden somewhere in the hills.