very unusual steady rain had set in. One encounters such rain
normally only during the rainy season beginning in late October.
We began our trek on time that morning. What other choice did
we have? Even with ponchos on, we were all soon soaking wet from
head to toe.
The ascent proved as arduous as our guide had warned us it
would be. With every step I took, my hiking boots squished out
water, a feeling as unpleasant as almost any I'd ever experienced.
With every squish, I became more irritated at the situation. Sadly
enough, no beautiful flowers, exotic birds, breathtaking waterfalls
or valleys took my mind off my misery. Thick clouds covered up
just about everything.
Near Dead Woman's Pass, I
suddenly felt my face being
pelleted and looked up to see
that the rain had become sleet
mixed with snow. I turned
around and noticed the snow
capped peaks of the Andes to
my left seemingly not far above
me. Watching the snow swirl
near those peaks was truly
wondrous. I wish I could have
let myself go. I wish I could have surrendered to the moment,
lingered like Faust in that moment, because it was so beautiful, but
I was too exhausted and too anxious to do so. Until then, I had
Runkurakay (Quechuan spelling) at 13,123
feet. Most likely a tambo; a place where the
chasquis messengers would stop over for
food and rest for a while, until they could
continue their trip onward.
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