I had a rough night. Not only was it below freezing (there was frost in the tent, where the moisture from our breath had frozen to the inside of the outer shell) but the mountain stream we were camped next to roared like the ocean all night and roosters set about crowing well before sunrise; plus the dogs that followed the groups of hikers pawed around our tent all night looking for food.
I got up, got dressed, and went to the bathroom in the pit that was set up for hikers. It was fifteen feet from the stream and upstream from where the cook was getting water for breakfast. I did feel a bit better in that, while I still had a headache, my stomach was fine. I even managed to eat breakfast.
Just before we headed off I made sure to bundle up in all of my cold weather gear (jacket, sweatshirt, gloves, and wool cap) since we were climbing up to 4700m (15510 feet) and passing 300m away from Salkantay, the highest mountain in the region, and one venerated by the Incas as a god. Jose Luis, the guide, picked up my pack to put it on the horse. He huffed and puffed and struggled to pick it up, then asked me, "How did you carry this up here?"
The hike up was as I'd feared. Not having the pack didn't matter; I was barely moving, just concentrating on moving my left foot, then my right. My head was throbbing and I felt as though I were breathing through a pillow. I had to work at it the first time that I tried to take a drink from my camelback because the line had iced. Women and horses passed me. I was miserable, and thus right in my element.
After nearly three hours, I made it to the pass, where the others had long been waiting. They wanted to hang out and rest; I wanted to get the hell down as soon as possible so that I could breathe.
Going down was not much easier. I still was having a hard time breathing and I continually slipped on the loose stones (the size of a fist) and slid on the loose dirt. My stomach- ache had come back again and halfway down, just after I'd been passed by horses, again, I threw up. Then I threw up some more. Then I threw up some more. I tried to drink water, but I threw that up too. Finally, having been passed by most of the people who'd been napping at the top of the pass, I got down to the plateau where Percy was cooking lunch. I walked just past him and collapsed.
It took me nearly an hour to get my breathing under control, by which point Andrew and Niels had come down. I lay there, unable to eat or drink, as they chatted and had lunch. I actually did manage to choke down a packet of crackers just before we started out again, but I was worried. For all intents and purposes, I'd missed three meals and, if the altitude sickness didn't abate soon, I thought about how I might have to cut the hike short, get flights changed, and get back to sea level.
I stood up and wobbled in the process. My head continued to throb. I\'d started off a bit ahead of the others but they soon caught up to me and passed me. The flats were okay, but the downhills wore me out. After about an hour, I caught up to the others, just past a natural arch where we could see miles down the length of the valley. We took some pictures and, as I noticed the first tree we'd come across, I offered to take a picture of Andrew with it, but he declined. We continued on with our descent for a short distance, during which I yelled to Andrew that I was fed up with the loose rocks and the horse nuggets, when we had to stop and stand aside for a passel of horses being led up the path.
Then it happened... I was unleashed! I realized I could breathe again. In my exaltation, I went tearing down the mountain, leaving the others far, far behind. I was barely winded and loving it, going so quickly that I was nearly jogging, though in truth I was merely stretching out my stride and letting gravity take me. I flew past many of the groups that had passed me that morning and in two and a half hours I'd reached the campsite, well ahead of Jose Luis' four hour estimate.
Andrew arrived fifteen minutes after me, which he managed to do, he said, by running some, and thirty minutes after that Jose Luis and Niels sauntered in. Other than the hot spots on my feet and a minor head- ache I felt great. And I was starved. I told Percy that I was ready to eat, to which he smiled.
There at the tiny village of Chaullay, down in what Jose Luis called the "high jungle" (there were many gnats and it was warm and muggy), we hunkered down for the night. We'd gone about 12 to 15 miles and ended up at 2800m (9240 feet).
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