We spend years, even a lifetime, thinking we know ourselves: our limits, our strengths. Unknowingly, those limits are often self-imposed – beliefs we accepted as facts. The biggest belief I had about myself was that I was physically weak and inept. Physical stuff was just not for me. I saw myself as a bookworm, not made for the outdoors.
As a child, I was sickly. I have memories of doctors coming to our home, of being told to not even step outside for days and days, of my parents rushing me to the hospital. I was apparently always running a fever. I was called (and still am) in Portuguese “flor de estufa” which literally means “greenhouse flower”, as if I couldn’t flourish outside of very strict, comfortable conditions.
Then, growing up, my interest in sports was minimal – it still is. I was never sporty and I hated PE. I was always the last to be chosen for any team, and a burden for the poor person who had to have me. I was almost always benched. It did not help that I’ve always been very blind and I was not allowed to wear my glasses during PE – only in high school I had to say to my teacher I’m totally blind without them. At that stage, I wasn’t wearing contact lenses yet.
In my pre-teens – I believe I was almost 13 years old – my mum noticed something was odd with my left arm. And she was right. My forearm was not only curved inwards, but was also about 5 centimetres shorter than my right arm. It meant that when I was sixteen I had to undergo surgery that involved breaking my arm to straighten it, and to elongate it – I had to wear a metal thing for basically a year. Not going to go into details – it just didn’t make me, once again, look like the strongest kid on the block.
I’m still not sporty. But physical exercise has become an essential part of my routine, mostly to support my mental health and to ensure that I have the stamina for when I’m travelling. Plus, I love walking in nature. I love hiking, turns out. Yet, the idea I had developed of myself – sickly, weak, like a sensitive flower – had stopped me from doing a lot in my life. I would look at people going on long hikes and think that I would never be capable of doing so…
I took a chance on me and booked the Salkantay Trek with Salkantay Trekking. A 5 day long hike through the Andes, finishing in Aguas Calientes from where I’d visit Machu Picchu. The Salkantay Trek isn’t the hardest, but it certainly isn’t the easiest either. It means climbing up to 4,650 meters, long days of walking in uneven terrain, passing through freezing and hot temperatures.
Now there is a benefit of going with a company like Salkantay Trekking – I was not camping, I was glamping. We had cooks. At times, it felt like I was cheating, even though I walked the same route as everyone else who was camping or doing it by themselves. But why do I keep doing this? Minimising my achievements? I have never camped in my life. That is a limit I’m unsure I’ll ever be able to get over. But here I had a chance to do a hike, comfortably. And that was all right.
Spoiler alert: I made it. It was one of the best experiences of my life, and I suppose the struggle I find myself with at the moment is writing about it. Because how can words describe what the eyes can barely believe? How can I translate emotions into sentences, physical pain into grammar? Let’s try it.
4am was the time I got picked up. My suitcase stayed at the hotel, as I would be returning there after the trek. A duffel bag provided by the company carried the 5kg of clothes and amenities I would use for the next few days.
It was dark and cold. I entered the van, where I couldn’t see the faces of those other humans who were going to be my company for the next 5 days. I had met some of them the evening before in the briefing. We were given blankets to cover ourselves with, and told to try to sleep until we got to the spot where breakfast was going to be served.
Sadly, I knew sleep was not on the cards for me. I’m not a good sleeper, a skill I never mastered since childhood. Not a napper. Just an overthinker. Still, the darkness outside made it impossible to discern the views, so I covered myself with the blanket, attempting to rest.
When we finally got to breakfast, my muscles felt stiff. Truthfully I had had a mere 2 hours of sleep – the anxiety of the early pick up, of the trek, the constant flow of thoughts on whether I was forgetting something important – again, not a sleeper, an overthinker. But as caffeine finally touched the inner linings of my body, its familiar aroma reaching my brain, I looked around at my companions and immediately felt I was in great company. Our group was quite homogenous when it came to age, but we were still quite diverse – not just couples, not just me and an enormous group of friends. There were two solo travellers – myself, and a Brazilian guy. Three Brazilian girls – twins that I could not tell apart, and one of their friends; three Germans, a couple and their cousin and two Canadian girls, friends from Uni. Everyone was so friendly, and we immediately hit it off.
When we finally left the vans to officially start the hike, the sun was up there and strong. I had to take off a layer, and then we started walking. Immediately, my heart was racing and I was struggling to catch my breath. What was wrong with me? Was I really in that bad shape? But our guide reminded us it was normal – we were at high altitude. And he kept checking in on us to ensure he could catch the signs of altitude sickness as quickly as possible.
Now, the views… not my photos nor my words can do it justice. How can I explain the feeling of smallness amongst such greatness? How can I make you understand that the same slopes that seemed so threatening were also inviting? How, in a single view, you have the green fields where horses graze, and the snow at the top of the mountains?
Our guide’s name was Julio. He was twenty six. We talked about the environment, of course we did. But you know what I didn’t imagine we would be talking about? AI. He spoke of his own business idea, which I won’t reveal here. I didn’t want to talk shop, to be honest. AI is too close to work. In an attempt to stop it, I just said something along the lines of how the mountains would keep existing here, no matter what happened.
I immediately saw my mistake, but the words were out of my mouth. I brought on another uncomfortable topic. He told me about warmer temperatures are melting the glaciers. How not that long ago, a glacier melted, causing an avalanche that broke a lake basin, and ended up destroying a village and killing people. Of course the Andes are also suffering from climate change. The Andes and its inhabitants. I can’t be blind to it. I can only continue to live my life as ethically and sustainably as possible, so at least I’m one less human contributing to the problem.
Julio was a smart young man, thinking about his future – being a guide in such challenging hikes isn’t easy. He knew it was temporary. Which is why he is turning to entrepreneurship. I didn’t say so, but whilst his AI idea sounded great to me, I also worry about the environmental impact of data centres themselves. How strange it was to hear him speak about the devastating consequences of climate change in the same conversation where he was telling me his business plans around AI – something that is only accelerating the damage humans have been inflicting on this planet.
So yes, even amongst such beauty, such greatness, we were grappling with our own worries. But I was happy, so happy, I easily put these behind me. Camera hanging on my neck, hands busy with my walking sticks, one step after the other. Tik, tak, tik, tak, tik, tak…
As someone who speaks Portuguese (so I could communicate easily with the Brazilians), Spanish and English, Julio would call me many times to help him translate certain words from Spanish to English or even Portuguese. For most of the trek, I could help – but sometimes, there simply isn’t an English word. In our first day, that immediately happened – pointed out a purple flower, and said it is the flower of a typical flat white bean and he didn’t know the word in English. A flat, whitish bean… must be “tremoço”. There isn’t an english word for it. But I was intrigued, because I had no idea the flat white beans that are a very common snack in my hometown in Portugal came from such a beautiful flower. Of course in Peru it’s not a standalone snack – Julio mentioned how it’s eaten boiled as a side to a main dish.
But I was still curious. The name of the plant is lupin. Lupin is a latin word that means wolf. Why would a plant be called wolf? It seems the Greeks and Romans naturalists observed this plant growing vigorously even in barren solids, and because nothing else grew around them, they believed the plant “wolfed down” as in, devoured, all the nutrients in the soil. They were wrong – it’s the opposite. In fact, they have a special bacteria in their roots that is capable of fixing nitrogen from the air into the dirt – rather than devouring nutrients, they are actually doing the opposite: fertilising and restoring poor soil. In fact, these were planted in Iceland in the 20th century for this reason… and it seems now they are a pest there. Again, I love finding invisible threads in my life… and this is an interesting one. A plant in Peru taught me about the origin of an local delicacy in my hometown…taking me into Iceland, precisely where I’ll be in September…
But, let’s go back. Tik, tak, tik, tak…
We walked for about 3 hours until our basecamp for that night, Soraypampa, located at 3,900m of altitude. We had lunch there, and in the afternoon we were about to climb up to 4,200m, to the famous Humantay Lake, considered one of the most beautiful in the entire world. Now you hear these words, and probably sound empty to you – because that is exactly how I feel every time I see headlines, captions or labels with such deterministic adjectives about subjective things.
Getting there was not easy. I struggled, and at this point I was wondering what the damn hell had I been thinking, coming on this trek? Julio had said it was about 1h30 climbing, and I was pretty sure it was taking me a lot longer. The sun was blinding, which did not help, but the scariest was the feeling that my heart was about to burst. I was heaving. I would walk about 10 steps (or at least that’s what it felt) I had to stop for a few seconds – never more, as you don’t want to give your body a chance to cool down. What was wrong with me? I kept forgetting the answer. It was the altitude. But not just that… I had just slept 2 hours, and at lunch, my appetite was not great. With a few bites, my stomach was full, and I felt that insisting was not going to be a good idea.
Slowly, but surely, I kept whispering to myself. And then I got there. My breathing soon returned to normal, my heart slowed down. I would almost say that the view was a remedy in itself.
Before touching my camera, I just kept looking, staring. I wanted to make sure I was taking it all in. I allowed my eyes to close for a few seconds, and then to open them again, to ensure I was not dreaming. That was real. That turquoise existed in nature. Protected by the Humantay mountain, the lake was like a mirage after a strenuous climb. I couldn’t believe it.
What fantasy book was I in? That’s the stuff dreams are made of, we think. Only dreams. But there I was, in reality. At that moment, yes, Humantay Lake is definitely one of the most wonderful sights I’ve had the privilege to cast my eyes upon.
People sat and gathered, admiring one of the best shows of their life. No artifice. It’s just Nature’s masterpiece. I sat as well, after I believed I was truly there, in the flesh. I laughed, my muscles lacking the energy to help me keep a straight face. I felt mad with happiness. Almost drunk.
The descent was too easy. We say in Portuguese, when you’re going down, all the Saints help you. I say it was too easy, because it was too fast, and I got a headache due to the sudden change in altitude. It was getting cold then. That was the only camp where we didn’t have showers.
As the sun disappeared behind the mountains, a darkness like no other settled and the air turned crisp and icy. As we ate our dinner in the dining hall, I felt it was Christmas. All of us with jumpers, inside a wooden chalet, where some indoor fireplaces were on.
The food was filling me too quickly, my metabolism completely off with the altitude. But it was delicious food – especially the soups, hearty but not heavy. That was the only night I shared the hut with one of my fellow trekkers, one of the Brazilian girls. We found out we were the same age and had a good conversation about how we both struggled to find like minded people who would join in adventures like those. We both came from small places, where a woman is expected to marry, stay local, and grow a family. The only thing I continue to grow are my wings, even if it’s my feet who make me move.
Stay tuned for more. That was just the first day.
Love, Nic
The Winged Bone 