Just Trust Me…

mountain.

After arriving at the ruins, they stopped for a much-needed drink, protein-energy bar, and picture-taking break.

They then prepared to continue on toward the next stop, Llulluchapampa, an isolated village in a flat meadow.

“This next leg of our journey is approximately a two-hour climb, after which we will stop for lunch,” Paolo said as they left the ruins. “It is strenuous, but the cloud forest and extraordinary valley views make it well worth the effort.”

“You holding up okay?” Brett asked, shrugging his backpack onto his broad shoulders.

“Not too bad. I feel better since I ate something.”

“Me, too.”

“It’s weird, but just when I start to think ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ we see something else amazing. Another species of orchid or bird or these latest ruins, and it hits me what an incredible experience this is.” She rolled her sore shoulders and grimaced at the deep ache radiating down her back. “Of course there have also been plenty of moments when I’ve thought I’d be just as happy, if not happier, looking at pictures of this place while in the comfort of my own bathroom-equipped apartment.”

The hike resumed, and Paolo had not exaggerated about the difficulty of the climb. There was little conversation, for which she was grateful, as ignoring the growing ache in her legs and back required all her concentration. Yet, as hard as the going was, the sights were astounding. They literally walked through clouds, fingers of white vapor brushing over them, dissipating as they passed.

The views of the verdant valley and churning river below brought exclamations of wonder, and camera shutters clicked at regular intervals. When they finally stopped for lunch, the entire group released a collective groan of relief. Kayla shrugged off her backpack, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud. She then plopped down beside it, closed her eyes and groaned.

She felt the thud of Brett’s backpack landing next to hers. Heard his long release of breath as he sat next to her. Felt his hand settle on hers.

“I used to think my yoga and spinning classes were brutal,” she murmured, “but those last two hours really kicked my ass. I think I need a transfusion.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, princess, everyone’s ass is kicked.”

She peeked her eyes open and noticed that all the other hikers were also sprawled on the ground. It offered little comfort that Ashley, who was probably a good ten years younger than her, looked as wrung-out as Kayla felt. They exchanged weak smiles, then Kayla’s gaze fell upon their guide.

“Everyone’s ass is kicked except Paolo’s. And his siblings.” She regarded the four Trucero siblings with a baleful, yet grudgingly respectful look. “They all appear fresh and energetic and probably could have sprinted up the damn trail.”

“They’re used to the altitude.”

“Right. It’s solely the altitude that has my thighs screaming and my back weeping.”

“Well, that’s my excuse. And I’m sticking to it.”

After a simple but delicious lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches, the group started out once again. Before picking up her backpack, Kayla rubbed her lower back and shot the heavy load of crap-as she not so affectionately called it-a dirty look.

“If all this damn hiking doesn’t make my ass smaller, I’m going to write a very strongly worded letter of complaint to the Inca Trail authorities.”

“There is nothing wrong with your ass,” Brett assured her.

“Right. Except that it feels like it’s dragging on the ground. And, according to Paolo, aka Mr. Susie Sunshine, we haven’t yet even hit the most difficult part of the day’s hike.”

“We’re now about to embark on the most rigorous and punishing segment of our journey,” said Mr. Susie Sunshine, and Kayla barely managed not to groan. Rigorous and punishing. Sooo not the two words her already abused muscles wanted to hear.

“The terrain will change from light woodland to scrub, and then to grassland and bare slope, growing ever more rugged until we reach the highest point on the trail at nearly fourteen thousand feet, Abra de Huarmihuanusqa, or Dead Woman’s Pass. The origin of the name is unknown.”

“Seems self-explanatory to me,” Kayla said, in an undertone to Brett. “Unfortunately.”

They started off and Kayla quickly realized that punishing and rigorous were understatements. She would have used torturous and grueling. The going was slow, the thin air forcing numerous thirty-second breaks. The sun scorched down in brutal, relentless rays, baking them, only for the weather to abruptly change to freezing winds as they neared the summit.

She might have voiced her misery out loud, but she simply didn’t have the energy or lung power to do so. All her efforts and strength were required to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Yet, despite the harshly exhausting conditions, everyone in the group took comfort in that they were all in this together. Clearly misery did love company, and it made it easier to bear the hardship knowing she wasn’t alone.

When they finally reached the summit, the bedraggled, exhausted hikers all exchanged hugs and high fives. After a well-deserved rest complete with another light snack, they readied themselves to begin the steep descent into the valley toward Pacamayo, where they’d camp for the night.

Kayla took one last look back at the trail from which they’d come. “Never in my life have I done anything that draining or intense,” she told Brett.

“Same here. I’m proud of you, princess. I didn’t hear a single complaint.”

“Who had air to spare to complain? And I’m proud of you, too. Of all of us. Including myself. When I get home, I’m going to have a custom T-shirt made-I hiked to Dead Woman’s Pass and it didn’t kill me. At least not completely.”

Any hope she’d harbored that the descent into the valley would be less strenuous evaporated within minutes. The path descended sharply, on uneven, complicated stone steps that required close concentration. The only part that was noticeably easier was that the air became a bit less thin as they approached the valley.

By the time they arrived in Pacamayo, they’d hiked nearly seven miles-about the same distance as the day before. But today’s journey felt like seventy miles in comparison.

When they finally stopped, Kayla shrugged off her backpack, allowing it simply to thump to the ground. She instantly followed suit then curled into a fetal position and whimpered, “I am one with the dirt. Go on without me. Save yourself.”

She heard Brett chuckle, then hiss out a curse. “Please, do not make me laugh.” A long, deep groan followed, and she pried open one eye and watched him lower himself to the ground next to her. Using his backpack as a back rest, he reached out and plucked up her limp form with an ease that majorly impressed her. She couldn’t have plucked up so much as a daisy if her life had depended on it. He settled her in his lap, and she curled against him, her head flopping like a rag doll’s on his chest.

“Why aren’t you half-dead like me?” she asked.

“I’m pretty tired.”

“Pretty tired? I left ‘pretty tired’ behind about six miles ago. I don’t want to be a whiner, but my God, everything hurts. My hair hurts. My eyebrows hurt. Even my earlobes hurt. Parts of me I didn’t even know I had ache. There is not one bit of balance in my life-only profound soreness. Whose crazy idea was this anyway?” A moan escaped her. “I knew I should have gone to the Caribbean to find my balance. No change, no gain? What a pile of pain-filled hooey.”

His chuckle shook his chest. “Poor princess. You’ve really been a trooper. I haven’t heard a complaint all day. Of course, you’re making up for it now, but since everybody’s lying on the ground in various stages of moaning and groaning, I won’t hold it against you. And lucky for you, I know just the thing to make you feel better.”

“You have a morphine drip handy?”

“’Fraid not. But I do have what you need.”

“I’d ask what that is, but I’m too busy trying to remember how to say ‘Where’s the hospital?’ in Spanish.”

“As luck would have it, I’m a doctor. And I give excellent physical therapy.”