As we crested the peak, suddenly the full glory of Machu Picchu came into view. It was breathtaking. At that moment the entire world around me fell away. I no longer heard Juan’s presentation, just the delicate wind. I no longer saw the other tourists, just the darkness of the mysterious site against the striking blue sky. I no longer felt my aching muscles, just the weightlessness of my soul being filled with peace and freedom. As hard as I try, the change that took place in my being at that moment cannot be described in words. And for months afterwards, the change in my demeanor was notable. More important than any souvenir I found, I brought home a tranquil heart.
Even to this day, many questions surround the purpose of Machu Picchu. The most widely believed hypothesis is that the site was built as a royal estate by the Inca ruler Pachacutec in the 1400s. At its peak, an estimated 750 residents called Machu Picchu home. These days, residents are limited to llamas, alpacas and the odd chinchilla.
Touring the site, we were privileged to spend hours combing the agricultural terraces and accessing archaeological treasures such as the Temple of the Sun, the Room of the Three Windows and the Intihuatana Stone. The need for my travel companions to recuperate after each short jaunt meant that I had the opportunity to delve deeply into each locale, immersing myself into the history and wonder of my surroundings.
When Juan announced that our tour was complete and it was time to head toward the exit, I couldn’t believe how many hours had gone by. With a heavy heart, I climbed back onto the rickety bus and began my descent to Aguas Calientes. The views over the sheer drop offs were as terrifyingly dangerous as they were incredibly beautiful, and suddenly they became blurred. I felt a comforting warmth engulf my body, then a sensation of wetness stream down my cheeks.
Yes. I was crying tears of pride and satisfaction.
Yes. Somehow, little ol’ me had traveled to Machu Picchu.
Yes. I did it.
Yes. I could do anything.
