of air …
Up, up the long, delirious burning
blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights
with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew –
And, while with silent, lifting mind
I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of
space,
Put out my hand, and touched the
face of God.
Back down the mountain twisties
we rode, opening throttle wide on the
plains to chase the rest of our group.
We regrouped short of Juliaca
as the evening gloom settled. The
tidy tarmac ended, and an unruly
dirt road begun. It was a wild ride
through a contraband war zone,
dodging potholes and concrete
lumps, with unregulated intersections
crowded with trucks, pedestrians,
donkey carts. It set me up for all
that was to follow.
I survived Juliaca
thing.
The border post
involved paperwork
officials, and an ho
at a dog sleeping in
road as customs clo
only we knew then
ing, a mere two hou
cy.
We rode our mot
narrow ramp onto
to cross Lake Titica
Alan, made me take
improve my chance
the freezing water s
or sink. Did I ment
assessing risk?
We reached La P
city lies in a ravine,
arrive on the altipla
about and lane spli
in the peak hour tra
the car next to me o
swerved but couldn
he hurled onto the
TRAVERSE