by Murielle La Mont
PureTravel Writing Competition 2024
As the first rays of dawn began to pierce the thick morning mist, I found myself standing at the entrance of a journey that had long captivated my imagination: the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. The anticipation of what lay ahead was palpable, tinged with a blend of excitement and reverence for the ancient path beneath my feet. This trek was more than a physical journey; it was a pilgrimage to a place that held centuries of mystery and wonder.
The trail began in the lush, verdant landscapes of the Sacred Valley. As we ascended, the air grew thinner, and the vegetation gradually transformed from tropical forest to alpine scrub. The journey was arduous, yet every step was rewarded with breathtaking vistas. Towering mountains, cloaked in green, rose majestically against the sky, their peaks often shrouded in clouds. The landscape seemed almost otherworldly, as if we had stepped into a different realm where nature reigned supreme.
The trail itself was a marvel of Inca engineering. Stone paths, some worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, snaked through the mountains, occasionally interrupted by stone staircases that seemed to climb endlessly into the sky. Along the way, we encountered several ruins, each with its own story to tell. Intipata, with its terraced slopes, offered a glimpse into the agricultural prowess of the Incas. Winay Wayna, perched on a steep mountainside, felt like a secret city hidden away from the world. These ancient sites, nestled in the midst of nature’s grandeur, were silent witnesses to a bygone era.
For me, this journey held a special significance. As a teacher and recent widow, I had spent the past year grappling with profound loss and a search for meaning. The death of my husband had left a void in my life, and I sought solace in the ancient wisdom and natural beauty of the Andes. The Inca Trail became more than just a path to Machu Picchu; it was a path to healing and rediscovery.
As we approached the final stretch of the Inca Trail, the air was thick with anticipation. Our guide, a local Quechua man whose knowledge of the region’s history and culture was profound, urged us to push on, despite the fatigue that weighed on our limbs. We reached the Sun Gate (Inti Punku) just as the first light of dawn began to illuminate the landscape. The view that unfolded before us was nothing short of magical.
There, in the distance, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun, was Machu Picchu. The sight took my breath away. The ancient city, believed to have been founded around 1450 during the height of the Inca Empire, nestled high in the Andes, appeared like a dream. Its stone structures, meticulously constructed, stood in stark contrast to the rugged natural surroundings. The terraces cascaded down the mountainside, blending seamlessly with the landscape. It was a moment of profound awe, one that felt almost surreal after days of trekking.
Walking down from the Sun Gate, I felt a sense of reverence. The closer we got to the city, the more tangible its presence became. Entering Machu Picchu itself was like stepping into another world. The stone walls, finely cut and perfectly aligned, spoke of a civilization that had mastered the art of building in harmony with nature. The city’s layout was intricate, with temples, plazas, and residential areas seamlessly integrated into the rugged terrain. It was easy to see why this place had remained hidden from the world for so long.
Exploring Machu Picchu, I was struck by the silence. Despite the presence of other visitors, there was a palpable sense of tranquility. The air was crisp and fresh, the only sounds being the distant call of birds and the whisper of the wind through the stone corridors. It was a place that invited contemplation, a sanctuary where one could reflect on the mysteries of the past and the beauty of the present. In those quiet moments, I felt a connection not just with the history around me, but with my own journey of personal growth and resilience.
One of the most striking features of Machu Picchu is the Temple of the Sun. This semi-circular building, perched on a rocky outcrop, is thought to have been a place of worship and astronomical observation. The precision with which the stones were cut and fitted together is astounding, a testament to the skill and knowledge of the Inca builders. Standing there, with the sun rising over the mountains, I felt a deep connection to the ancient people who once called this place home. For a teacher like me, fascinated by history and culture, this was an invaluable experience, offering lessons in perseverance and ingenuity.
Another highlight was the Intihuatana Stone, often referred to as the “Hitching Post of the Sun.” This carved rock is believed to have been used as a solar clock or calendar, aligning perfectly with the sun’s position during solstices. The ingenuity of the Incas in creating such an advanced system of timekeeping, integrated seamlessly with their spiritual beliefs, was truly inspiring.
As the day wore on, the mist lifted completely, revealing the full majesty of the surrounding landscape. The steep cliffs, the lush green valleys, and the distant snow-capped peaks all combined to create a scene of unparalleled beauty. Machu Picchu, in its isolated splendor, seemed to float above the earth, a relic of a time long past yet timeless in its allure. For me, it was more than a historical site; it was a place of renewal, where I found the strength to embrace a future without my beloved husband.
Leaving Machu Picchu was bittersweet. The experience had been more than just a physical journey; it had been a journey of the soul. The Inca Trail had challenged me, pushing me to my limits, but it had also rewarded me with moments of breathtaking beauty and profound reflection. Machu Picchu itself was the culmination of that journey, a place where history, culture, and nature converged in a harmonious dance.
As I descended the mountain, I took one last look at the ancient city, now bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. It was a sight that would stay with me forever, a reminder of the incredible journey I had undertaken and the timeless beauty of the world we live in. Machu Picchu is not just a destination; it is a symbol of the enduring spirit of exploration and discovery, a place where the past and present coexist in perfect harmony. This pilgrimage, made in memory of my husband, had brought me peace and a renewed sense of purpose.
The significance of Machu Picchu to the world was cemented in 1911 when Hiram Bingham, an American explorer, brought international attention to the site. Although local Indigenous people had known about the city, Bingham’s rediscovery marked a pivotal moment in the modern understanding of the Inca civilization. The story of Machu Picchu’s founding and rediscovery resonated deeply with me, reflecting themes of lost and found, endurance, and the search for meaning—elements that paralleled my own life’s journey.
Photo by Willian Justen de Vasconcellos on Unsplash
