way up

Today, my ass was kicked.

We woke at dawn, dressed in the dark filled our water bottles by the stream. (Don't worry, Wade purified it.)

TODAY, WE WALKED UP.

up up up up up up up up up up up, up thirty-five hundred feet. The view became increasingly more majestic as we climbed. We passed some 'Raelis on the way and had a short debate over which was which, peach and apricot, mishmish and apharsek. Turns out not everybody knew which was which, even in their native tongue. THE PEACH IS THE BIG ONE.

What did I think about while climbing the mountain, you ask? Well, the first hour or so I went through every Civil Rights song I knew in my head. I did some of them twice. This Little Light of Mine I did five times. See the African Americans, they had them some struggles, too. They had walks, although theirs weren't straight up a mountain. When I had exhausted those songs, I thought about Harriet and the Garden, a favorite children's book of mine. That got me thinking about Annie Lennox (?) and what a great musician she is. The rest of the time I repeated in my head, Slow and steady wins the race. You know, from The Tortoise and the Hare? This helped the most.

The last thirty minutes were spent praying to God that we would arrive in Cabon Conde before the eleven o'clock bus left. How we rushed! How I climbed! I have never walked so fast in my life! I have never stepped through donkey shit with such abandon! And God heard my prayers, for we reached the town square with three minutes to spare (it's that luck, again). ALAS!!!! There were no seats available on the eleven o'clock bus.

We booked tickets on the one o'clock bus, ate popsicles and manjar/cheese sandwiches in the square, and interneted. Oh, internet. How I love thee.

Canon de Colca? I am not sad to see you go.
Canon de Colca kicked my ass. KICKED. IT. HARD.


Pulse while climbing up Cañon at 8500 feet:
Me:180
Wade: 162

Pulse while at rest on the bus at 10,800 feet:
Me: 90
Wade: 72