If the mountains of Slovakia are like seeing the world as god, the cup of his hand as creation spread out before you, then the Andes are like sitting in the lap of some great giant, nestled in his massive legs, his strong arms cradling you, caressed by his thick and verdant hands.
The mountains are green to the top like a massive body, it's strong and calm life pulsing through you. As you climb your rushing heart is a part of the pulse of the mountain, a rabbit's heartbeat.
If you wake up early enough, the cloud lies not at the mountain tops but in the valleys. And if you keep climbing long enough you can watch it uncoil and rise like a sleeping dragon.
Hummingbirds in Cuba are the smallest in the world but in Peru they are larger than the ones I have seen and turquoise not emerald. I saw 9 of them on the trek, in addition to a black bird with yellow feet and beak, several sparrow like birds some with the black throat markings, and a bluebird of happiness with a red breast.
The cloud's movement across the mountain was perhaps my favourite part. They would start at the foot of the mountains at dawn curled sleeping in the valleys, then crawl up the face of the mountain until they obscured its visage from your sight. Then you might spend hours walking in a wall of cloud, but don't despair, because that mist nourishes the cloud forest all around you. Then the cloud lifts her skirts and exposes the mountain's body to the light, but hides his head. At this point you might start to see the distant snow caps, curls of cloud decorating them like ribbons. From here the cloud never quite leaves you, but dances with the mountain in an embrace. And you can watch them run up the mountain and back down like a sheet billowing, rivers of cloud running down its side, or maybe it will hug the mountain around its neck in a tender embrace.
The cloud forest thrives by the mist that flows over it, and so there is not the supremacy of the sky or the earth. Therefore everything can be coated, five species of moss I counted on one tree. The first cloud forest I entered (second day) was formed around a crystal brook which splashed through moss covered rocks, hurrying at the speed of gravity. I perched on a rock and bathed in its waters, sipping them from my hand. It sustained full sized trees, dripping with moss and bromilliads and occasional orchids.
The second cloud forest I entered, on the third day, was surreal in nature. All the trees, the grass, the flowers were made of moss. It was like being transported to the moss planet. There was an English style meadow with tiny intricate wildflowers beautifully intertwined. Then on the trees moss and vines dripped.
I climbed and climbed for hours but when I got to the top of dead woman's pass (second day) I literally ran to the top of a cairn and circled myself in the wind, surrounded and surrounded by the limitless mountains. I did much the same on the first pass if the third day, scrambling to the truly highest point and then you and the mountain tops are on equal footing.
The ruins, from the watchtower I climbed all over to Maccu Picchu itself... Maccu Picchu is a full city, that's what's special about it. Not just the castle keep as it were but houses and churches and terraces and military spots and a water system. All there as though you could put on new roofs and come back to it. The outposts it's more about being fully in them and fully on the edge of the mountain at the same time. On the third day, the sun rose and kissed the sun temple as Jes and I climbed.
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