Running Stories

She heard their footfalls behind her before she fully turned to address them. She knew she was being followed, after all her pursuers were not exactly light of foot, but now they were catching up, gaining on her with each heavy foot fall, each kick, each yell. She knew that once she turned, once they saw each others’ eyes, the game would change.

They were right behind her now, growing quiet as they approached. She saw the soccer ball pass her first. It was soon followed by the unsure face of a boy not yet ten, and then the faces of his four friends, all younger. They smiled at her in a guarded way as they paced along side her, kicking the ball with them. She assessed and then without a word slowed to see if they would pass. They slowed with her, she grinned at them. Their unsure grins grew into those of mirth, she was playing their game. 

She took out her headphones and let them dangle around her neck.

“¿Como te llamas?” the oldest boy asked.

“Rebecca,” she replied. The boys laughed, though at her accent, her name, or the adrenaline she couldn’t be sure. Looking ahead they all saw a car approaching and the boys skittered to the side of the road while Becca continued on the far shoulder. They didn’t follow her for a little while and she found herself running with only the company of the wind and the sand once more. 

Sure enough after only a few minutes, she heard their impending footfalls again and turned her head just enough to see their grinning face reappear. They stayed with her again as the afternoon wind picked up. She smiled widely, even though she felt the sand of the dunes dotting her teeth in the process.

“Vamos pues,” she said (let’s go then) and they looked at her cautiously. Without another word she pushed forward, sprinting door the road and forcing them to follow her. They laughed loudly as they sped up too, running so hard she thought their little legs might detach from their bodies. They passed her after under a minute and she dropped back to her original pace, watching them yell and laugh together.

They all turned and waved at her as they continued on into the coming sunset. The biggest boy turning the yell, “Chao Señorita Rebecca” over the wind.

----------------------------------------

She awoke on a chilly Saturday morning to post-rain wind streaming through her open window. She tossed one way and pulled the blanket tighter over her body, tossed the other and curling into a ball, but nothing would let her sleep in the frosty morning. After rising to close the window, she turned to the wooden beam above her bed and saw her running clothes hanging there. 

It was cold enough for a sweatshirt but she didn’t take one, instead she strapped on her running shoes and her fanny pack and headed toward the dunes. There were people out but not many, she waved to the ones she saw and reveled in the quiet of the early morning. 

They are two houses on her usual trail that house a large group of dogs, unfortunately they are within the same half mile and the first set’s barking usually starts the second set’s. In the recent weeks, the dogs had stopped seeing her as a threat and rarely even considered her as she puffed past them. She no longer carried rocks.

But a cold Saturday morning does something strange to a canine brain and though she passed the first house without a peep (for a peep from a dog would have been strange indeed), the second proved significantly more challenging. 

Becca heard the barks from far off but didn’t think to reach for a weapon as these dogs rarely approached farther than the edge of the road. She felt the normal panic as they rounded toward the edge of their yard but continued breathing and running past them. This time, however, they didn’t stop at the road; two large dogs crossed into the road and ran at her, teeth bared. Of course, on three miles of rock road, this was the only part of the path with dirt and no a single rock. Acting entirely out of a toxic blend of terror and anger, she reach for a fallen tree branch as long as she was tall and turned to the dogs, now only a couple of feet away. 

“I am so tired of you **********ing **********ers constantly barking at me! Back the **** up you ****faces or I swear to **** I will beat the ******** and the ******* out of you until you’re nothing but a *******ing pile of *****! *******!” she screamed at them, waving the branch wildly around. Their barking had calmed somewhat though a few growls escaped them, sounding oddly confused. She stood staring at them, and they at her. “AND you threw off my *******ing time! Ah!” she yelled, swung hard at the air one last time and took off again.

To her dismay, they following, growling at her again and she turned, now furious, and swung the branch at both of them. They stopped in their tracks and turned back toward the house. She heard only the small yips of large dogs as she ran toward victory.

----------------------------------------

The big curve in the road marked halfway to the halfway point. It was a quarter-way marker kind of day: the sun was too hot, the sand too sandy and the moto-taxis too prevalent. This was exactly why she preferred morning running to afternoon running. The big curve also marked the last uphill of her run because everything flattened out from there and her return would be downhills; she tried to keep this in mind as she climbed the last hill.

She was at the crest when a moto-taxi approached from behind her and moved to her left to pass her, which it would have successfully done if that section of road was not also the sandiest part of the trail. It sank, the wheel spun, it sank further and the wheels spun faster. Becca considered running past it but seeing the panicked look on the young driver’s face, she stopped. 

Simply pointing to the back of the moto, she moved toward the back. Placing her hands on the metal bar at the back, she started to push as the driver put on the gas. The wheels spun, the moto sunk deeper, she pushed and the wheels spun, the moto moved ever so slightly forward and she pushed harder. In less than a minute they’d moved past the sandy part and the moto kept moving down the road. The driver threw an arm out to wave at her as they sped off and Becca found herself running again, just a bit faster though she was covered in sweat and sand. 

A few minutes later she passed the same moto, parked on the side of the road near a large plot of cotton; the driver and an older woman, his mother, stood hand planting in the field and waved at her as she passed yelling “fuerte” and “mujer incredible!” (Strong, incredible woman).

----------------------------------------

The road to Las Pampas was flatter than the other trail, though it was also longer and held more traffic from all manner of vehicles, people, and animals. On a trail still somewhat unknown to her, Becca passed neighbors planting corns and cotton, unfriendly but timid dogs, and horse drawn wagons full up with people who waved, grinned, yelled, or sometimes simply stared at her.

She had rounded the first mile faster than usual and found herself just around the corner from the second corner and the turn around point when she heard the thundering of hooves behind her. Careful where she placed her feet, on a road she’d taken a harsh tumble on before, she turned to see at least thirty sheep of all shapes and sizes exiting a gate to her right and moving out onto the round. The very last was not a sheep at all, but a young boy, probably twelve; the herder.

Normally they would have walked along with him in the back, watching for strays and keeping them together, but seeing Becca, the sheep broke into a panicked run and passed her as a giant group, leaving the boys to chase after them down the road. Becca smiled apologetically at him as he passed and he only waved. She watched him catch up to them and calm them to a walk not far in front of her. Seconds later she caught up again, startled them and they all broke again into a run until the boy caught up to them, calmed them and they walked once more. Until Becca caught up to them again...the cycle continued for another half mile.

Certain that the boy was annoyed with this silly running gringa, Becca stopped at her turn around point and watched for the boy, who had run into the field to chase one of the babies. He emerged from the field, jumping across on irrigation ditch, chasing a small sheep and laughing wildly. The sound was like music as he passed her to catch his sheep, only waving and shaking with a laughter she thought might just knock him over.

Familia

At the end of November 2012, Becca moved in with the family Tejada Santamaria: her host dad, Francisco (or Kiko) was a baker, her host mom, Estefa, took care of the house and the family and she finally had siblings: Anibal, Mireli, and Sandra. They took her in as one of their own, took care of her when she was sick and talked through the confusion of a new language learner. Becca moved into this house expecting to spend two years there. 

But we all know plans change and sometimes two years turns into one. There were a lot of reasons that Peace Corps decided Becca should move to Morrope, the capitol of the district about 10 kilometers away, but her family was not one of them. While Becca knew that her work would thrive in Morrope and was excited about her new host family, it hurt her heart to think about moving away from these kind, generous people who had become so big in her little life. 

As she said her goodbyes Becca reflected on how proud she was of them. 

The bakery was very popular in town and her host dad easily produced the best empanadas. Mireli was attending institute to become a chef and teaching her mom to cook new meals as well. Anibal's graphic design business was growing with new jobs for mass calendar and diploma production. Sandra was finishing up high school, graduating in only a few weeks. They were always growing and learning and Becca couldn't have been more proud to have once called herself part of their family. 

Now it was time to move on and Becca was adapting to her new living situation but she knew she would visit  them often and think of them always. 

En los últimos días de noviembre del 2012, Becca se mudo a una casa con la familia Tejada Santamaría: su papa anfitrión, Francisco (o Kiko) fue un panadero. Su mama anfitriona cuido la casa y la familia. Y por fin, Becca tenia hermanos: Anibal, Mireli, y Sandra. Ellos la cuidaron como hija y hermana. La cuidaron cuando estaba enferma y cuando no entendió. Becca se mudo a la casa para vivir dos anos allá. 

Pero, como sabemos, a veces los planes se cambian y dos anos significa solo uno. Había tantos razones que Cuerpo de Paz la mudo pero la familia anfitriona no fue una. Mientras Becca sabia que su trabajo y la nueva familia será bien en Morrope, sintió pena para salir esta casa con esta buena familia. 

Cuando estaba despidiendo la familia, pensaba como orgullosa se sintió:

La panadería fue como la mas popular y la recete de empanadas fue lo máximo. Mireli estaba estudiando en instituto para ser chef y enseñando su mama nuevas comidas. Anibal tenia mucho trabajo del diseño gráfico como calendarios y certificados. La promoción de secundaria de Sandra ya estaba viniendo. Becca estaba bien orgullosa para decir su misma una parte de esta familia. 

Y cuando estaba el tiempo para salir, Ella pensaba que visitara mucho y pensara de ellos siempre. 

Iquitos and the Amazon Raft Race

Iquitos, a beautiful, vibrant city nestled in the jungle at the convergence of the Great Amazon and several other rivers in the region of Loreto. Effectively an island due to both natural water sources and a lack of modern roads, Iquitos brings in travelers, tourists, and Peace Corps volunteers by air and boat throughout the year, but every September they flock for a specific course: the Great Amazon River Raft Race, a 3 day 112 mile race started by ex-pats and recently taken over by the regional government of Loreto.

Becca had received a call several months prior from another volunteer in Peru, inviting her to join a team. Without thinking about it long enough to get scared, she said yes. Over the following months, the girls formed a team (Becca, Gia, Jeannie, and Lyndsey) chose a name (Mamacitas Feroces: Ferocious Little Mamas), got their paperwork, payment, and plane tickets in order, and made t-shirts. 

By the time Becca was boarding her plane to Iquitos, almost exactly a year after arriving in the same airport from the US, she could hardly believe she was about to embark on a race down one of the most dangerous rivers in the world. 

Becca noticed two things in her first hours in Iquitos: 1) the heat and humidity wrapped around her like a blanket she couldn’t shake off reminding her of the previous summer in Lambayeque if she’d spent that summer under water and 2) there were surprisingly few vehicles around that were not moto-taxis.

Becca arrived a few days before the race began, giving herself time to explore Iquitos and the surrounding beauty and wildlife. 

Iquitos: 

Pilpintuwasi Butterfly Farm and Animal Rescue Center:

Rescue Center for Amazonian Animals: 

Rescued Amazonian Animal Center:

(Becca harbored some serious nerves about holding the anaconda in the last habitation, and as it turns out so did the anaconda...)

Finally, the big day rolled around; Becca woke early, packed her bags and boarded a bus with her team that took them to Nauta where there was a large reception for the participants. After a few words from the important authorities of Nauta, the director of the competition, Coco, read the team names off. About halfway down the list, the mamacitas began their journey as fan favorites. 

“Oh I like this next name; Mamacitas Feroces, where are you?” Coco looked out at the crowd. The girls threw up their arms and yelled. “Wow, ok, I think we found our party team, I like them!”

After the ceremony, the participants were led to the shore of the Amazon where they boarded a large boat, which was afterward referred to as “the Party Boat.” They were taken to Fisherman’s Island and fed a quick lunch before beginning their five hour time for building their rafts. The rules for international teams were simple: they were given 8 large logs, rope, a saw, nails, and a hammer, they were allowed to contract workers to build their boat using chainsaws and other tools, they had to use all 8 logs. Becca sighed in relief finally knowing for sure that she would not be responsible for building any sort of vehicle to be used in the Amazon. While Becca cut the legs off plastic chairs which proved to be harder than she expected, four Peruvian men put together the girls’ intuitive design for a long, streamlined raft.

Official design sent via email from Jeannie, the team captain, to the rest of the team in preparation for the race.

After hours of construction, the girls were approached by members of other teams telling them that their boat construction was illegal. Concerned, they radioed Coco who told them the boat design was fine. With an hour to spare, the raft was completed and the girls paid their construction team in cash and smiles. However only fifteen minutes later, as Coco did his rounds, the girls were given some bad news. Coco explained that their design was illegal for safety reasons, though he couldn’t show them in the rule book where this was noted. After some arguing, it was decided that they would have to rebuild. Thankfully the previous year’s first place team had just finished their boat (which they constructed by hand with no help because the rules for Peruvian teams indicated they had to) offered to rebuild the girls’ boat. 

“I feel like now our team’s fates are tied,” Becca noted to Jeannie of the Peruvian team that had built their final raft. Jeannie nodded, adding that she hoped that meant they’d get first too.

The following morning, after a night of bugs, hot tents, and hard ground, race day had finally arrived. 

They awoke early and were one of the first teams to get their raft in the water. As the start whistle was blown, the girls paddled hard, by chance at the front of the pack. As they paddled they could hear the press and extra staff cheering for the Mamacitas Feroces from the Party Boat, from the cook to the radio host who’d interviewed them the day before.

“You guys, we’re in first!” Lyndsey declared. Seconds later one of the all male, Peruvian teams zipped past them.

“You guys, we’re in second!” Becca cried but not long after they were passed by two more boats. “Forth!” and then another “Fifth!”

“Ok Becca, that’s gonna get depressing,” Jeannie noted and they all laughed. It should be noted that in their time on the water, the girls never stopped paddling. They took breaks of five minutes or less for water, snacks, or sunscreen but always with two people paddling with the others took a break. When nature called, the girls were thankful for a raft that sat low in the water.

When life on the boat got dull, the girls started discussions both serious (the role of religion in the modern world) and less serious (what would you name a pet dragon if you had one?), they played word games like contact and would you rather, and they sang a variety of camp songs.

Though the competition was three days which included sleeping on tents in different jungle communities each night, the memories from the three days on the water faded together in Becca’s brain. From beaching a battling boat in the final minutes of the first day to the first site of the finish line, it flowed together like the Amazon’s waters. Each day when they finished rowing and came ashore with all of their gear, the first place team that had built their boat checked in with words of encouragement. Each afternoon and evening they scarfed down giant meal of mainly meat which they came to refer to as “eating the farm.” 

They quickly realized on the water that reaching “just that point over there” would take 2-3 hours on average, so they would see the end goal for hours at a time before turning a corner and seeing the next goal. Luckily they also learned quickly that 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall took 800 strokes and kept them rowing together. Each day held roughly the following times and distances:

Day One (6 hours, 60 km) 

Day Two (9 hours, 70 km)

Day Three (8.5 hours, 60 km)

By the final hours of the last day, breaking points discovered, team dynamics tested, buoyancy of the raft failing, the girls still rowed forward with everything they had left. Down to the final hour, they began to pass people on the shores who cheered for them and good morale took over the raft. They were starting to feel good, until an unexpected sandbar beached their steadily sinking ship. Ten minutes lost and many choice words spoken, they managed to free their raft, until 30 minutes later when they finally caught a glimpse of the finish line only to be directed into a fishing net. After more, even choisier words and a few minutes, they’d freed themselves again and found there way to the last 15 minutes of the race: the upriver ending. 

In the last minutes, the girls all lost their minds. Their bodies and spirits failing, they were ready to give up but they pressed on, continuing with a chant Lyndsey began: from the shores you could here them coming, chanting “strong and beautiful and powerful” all the way to the finish line. 

An hour later, with a cold beer in her hand, clean clothes, and a full belly, Becca sat happily awaiting the awards ceremony. Though she knew that the Mamacitas had done well, it wasn’t until they called them at second place for the women’s division that she really believed. She stood in front of a screaming crowd with her teammates as they were presented with necklaces, keychains, and a big, beautiful trophy. 

*     *     *

When Becca returned to her site a couple of days later she brought with her not just good memories and souvenirs, but also poisoning, an infected lip, a second degree sunburn, and various other aches and pains, but hey, it sure was...something.

Iquitos y La Carrera de Balsas

Nota para amigos que hablan Castellano: Solo pone las fotos arriba en el ingles porque no había mas espacio. Por favor, miran arriba por los fotos.

Iquitos, una cuidad linda ubica en el corazón de la selva por el río Amazon, en la región de Loreto. Efectivamente, es una isla por los ríos y una falta de carreteras. Iquitos llama a las turistas, viajadores, y voluntarios de Cuerpo de Paz que llegan por avión o barca por todo el año, pero cada año en setiembre llegan por la carrera de balsas por el río Amazon, una carrera de tres días y casi 200 kilómetros.

Becca recibió una llamada hace algunos meses de una otra voluntaria para invitarla a su equipo. Sin tiempo para preocuparse, Becca dijo sí. En los siguientes meses, las voluntarias formaron un equipo (Becca, Gia, Jeannie, y Lyndsey), eligieron un nombre (Mamacitas Feroces) y hicieron polos. 

Cuando Becca estaba entrando el avión para Iquitos, casi exactamente un año después de cuando llegó en el Perú, no pudo creer que estaba embarcando en una carrera así. 

Becca vio dos cosas en las primeras horas estaba en Iquitos: 1) El calor y humedad se abrazaron como una chompa y 2) había bastante mototaxis y no mucho carros.

Becca llegó algunos días antes de cuando la carrera empezó para tener tiempo a explorar a Iquitos, la selva, y la naturaleza. 

Por fin llegó el día de empezar la carrera; Becca se levantó temprano, hizo sus bolsas y tomó un bus con su equipo a Nauta donde había una gran ceremonia para los participantes. Después de algunas palabras de las autoridades de Nauta, el director de la carrera, Coco, leyó los nombres de los equipos. En el medio de la lista, las mamacitas se hizo el equipo mas popular. 

- ¡Oye! Me gusta esto nombre: Mamacitas Feroces, ¿donde se quedan? - Coco miró a las participantes. Las mamacitas gritaron y rieron. - Wow, pienso que encontramos el equipo de fiestas, ¡a mi me gusta ellas! - 

Después de la ceremonia, los participantes embarcaron al río Amazon por una barca grande que se llama “el barco de fiestas.” Ellos se fueron a la isla de pescador para almorzar y después, tenían cinco horas para construir una balsa. Las reglas fueron que los equipos internacionales podrían usar ocho leñas grandes, cuerdas, sierra, un martillo, clavos, y algunas otras herramientas para construir una balsa. Ademas, podrían pagar un equipo peruano de trabajo para construir la balsa. Becca estaba aliviada cuando el equipo de cuatro peruanos albañiles construyeron una balsa larga de un diseño de la capitán, Jeannie. 

Después de muchas horas de construcción, llegaron miembros de otros equipos diciéndose que el diseño de la balsa fue ilegal. Con preocupación, las mamacitas llamaron Coco pero él les dijo que el diseño fue legal. Con una hora todavía en el limite, la balsa quedó completa y las mamacitas pagaron el equipo de construcción con plata y sonrisas. Sin embargo, quince minutos después cuando Coco chequeaba las balsas, las mamacitas recibieron malas noticas: Coco explicó que el diseño fue ilegal por razones de seguridad. Después de una poquita guerra, se decidieron las mamacitas tuvieron que construir nuevo. Gracias a Dios el equipo ganador del año pasado terminó su balsa y dieron su tiempo para ayudar las mamacitas. 

- Me siento como el destino de nuestros equipos son unidos - Becca dijo a Jeannie sobre su equipo y el equipo peruano. Jeanne estuvo de acuerdo, diciéndose esperó que significa los dos equipos ganaría.  

La siguiente mañana, después de una noche de zancudos, carpas, y suelo duro, el día de la carrera llegó.

Se levantaron temprano y pusieron la balsa por el agua. Cuando escucharon el sonido del pito, las mamacitas hicieron fuerte las palas y por coincidencia estaban en frente de todas las balsas. Mientras estaban haciendo las palas, las mamacitas pudieron escuchar todas las personas en el barco de fiestas gritándose para las mamacitas. 

• ¡Chicas, estamos las primeras!- gritó Lyndsey. Segundas después, uno de los otros equipos pasó las mamacitas.

- ¡Chicas, estamos las segundas!” Becca gritó mientas dos equipos mas pasaron. - ¡Cuartos! - y un otro - ¡Quinto! - 

• Ok, Becca, eso es depresivo - Jeannie dijo y las mamacitas rieron. 

En la carrera, las mamacitas nunca pararon usando las palas: tomaron pausas de dos o tres minutos para tomar agua o snacks y ponerse mas bloqueador pero siempre dos personas tomaron pausas mientas las otras usaron las palas.

Cuando las mamacitas estaban aburridas en la balsa, conversaron sobre cosas serias (el rol de religión en el mundo) y menos serias (¿si tuviera un dragón, que nombre tuviera?). También jugaban juegos de palabras y cantaban. 

La carrera fue tres días en donde las mamacitas fueron en el río por todo el día y durmieron en carpas en las comunidades de la selva por las noches. Después, Becca se sintió como fue solo un día muy, muy, muy duro y largo. Cada día cuando ya llegaron al campamento, el equipo que ayudó a construir su balsa preguntó como están las mamacitas y hablaron palabras de ánimo. 

Rapidamente, dieron cuenta que para llegar a “un punto allá” tomó dos o tres horas, entonces pudieron ver el punto de termina por mucho tiempo antes de cuando llegaron. Afortunadamente, les gustaban a cantar “99 Botellas de Chela” y usar las palas.

Los tiempos y distancias fueron así:

Día Uno (6 horas, 60 kilómetros) 

Día Dos (9 horas, 70 kilómetros)

Día Tres (8.5 horas, 60 kilómetros)

Cuando llegó el ultimo día, las mamacitas y la balsa estaban bien cansadas, pero ya usaron las palas con toda la fuerza. En la ultima hora, había bastantes problemas con la balsa y la carrera; las mamacitas casi no terminaron. Mejor dicho, en los últimos momentos de la carrera, las mamacitas perdieron sus cabezas: sus cuerpos y espíritus morían pero con toda la fuerza, las mamacitas llegaron a la linea de termina gritándose “fuertes y hermosas y poderosas.”

Una hora después, con una chela fresca en su mano, ropa limpia, y un plato de rica comida, Becca miró la ceremonia de premios. Ella sabía que su equipo ganó segundo lugar pero no pudo creerlo mientes estaba parada en frente de todas las personas con  el trofeo.

*     *     *

Cuando Becca regresó a su comunidad unos días después, ella llevó no solamente recuerdos, pero también una enfermedad del sol, infección de los labios, una quemadura del sol en segundo nivel, y varios otras penas, pero ya estaba una aventura.

Just a Walk in the (Huascaran National) Park

It had been four months since her last vacation, four long months of trainings, starting projects, practicing Spanish, and losing a site-mate. So it really wasn’t surprising that when Becca rolled in to Huaraz she wanted nothing more than a couple of days to relax and spend some time with her very good friends; Monica, Gina, and the internet. By the end of her second relaxation day, she found herself de-stressed, de-toxed and bored out of her mind, luckily they were booked to start the Santa Cruz Trek the following morning. 

The first morning was a mash of packing, a very long bus ride, photo stops, and a long conversation with the cook, Julio, who told her he’d take her skiing when she returned to Ancash and offered to teach her how to cook Peruvian food. At one point, they were all ushered off the bus because it simply could make the tight corners and steep hills with all of them aboard. This was when she had her first taste of fresh, clean, Andean air - there was not a lot of it.

After a little more walking, a little more heavy breathing and a little more driving, they arrived at the trailhead, where they ate lunch and waited for all of the details to be sorted out...and took pictures with donkeys...

Al fin, they set off, 16 strangers from all around the world, starting the four-day, 48 kilometer Andean journey around the Santa Cruz loop. The first day was short, only a few hours crossing through villages on green hillsides, acclimating to the 10,000+ ft altitude, and enduring the occasional misstep. 

That evening they camped in a beautiful valley which they shared with the donkeys as well as the horses and cows that lived there. They enjoyed a lovely meal squeezed into the dinner tent together and talked until it was far too late to be awake (roughly 8 pm). That first night was bitterly cold but the love of her friends kept Becca warm enough (ok, and wearing all of the clothes she brought plus a jacket borrowed from Monica and a hot water bottle at her feet). 

The second day they woke before the sun graced the valley and ate a quick breakfast before setting off for what they were told would be the most challenging day. The group walked for a couple of hours on mostly level ground, watching the sun slowly peek over the mountain tops.

It was nearly midday when they reached Union Pass, a steep, roughly 3,000 ft altitude increase that would lead them to a tiny gap in the rocky terrain where they would cross through the other side. No big thought Becca, but her face must have betrayed her because the guide patted her shoulder several times and told her not to worry before moving on. 

Lung capacity thoroughly challenged, Becca arrived at the top...

...and looked down upon the beauty below...

...which was challenged only by the beauty on the other side. 

The rest of the day held a long downhill toward camp under the unreal beauty of the mountains. Becca spent the majority of those left hours hiking in silence, gazing at the giants surrounding her and pondering the big questions of life. Though the day was beautiful, a sort of refreshing you couldn’t find just anywhere, Becca was happy when they arrived at camp and settled in for another night of relaxing and conversing. 

The third day they made the quick morning hike to enjoy the view of the valley below and then on to a beautiful lagoon where they stopped to eat lunch and take pictures. 

After lunch they crossed out of the green into territory that confusing Becca, making her feel like she’d returned to Morrope, only it had sprouted mountains. 

They spent the remainder of the day hiking through a long valley filled with wildlife and the kind of rocks that made for beautiful scenery and equally beautiful twisted ankles, until they reached camp that afternoon, tired but happy. Becca considered her dirty feet for the first time in days and decided to wash them in the nearby glacial run-off creek with Monica and a couple of the others. The water was rather cold, incredibly cold, cold enough that the Frenchman in their group taught them some choice words in French. However once Becca’s feet where clean and she was cozy again wearing all of the clothes she’d packed and enjoying the company of the group and a warm meal, the cold water was forgotten. That evening the group also celebrated a birthday with a an upbeat and off key rendition of both the English and Spanish versions of Happy Birthday and a “cake” put together from leftover pancakes, fruits, and manjar blanco. 

The fourth and final day led the group through more the increasing beautiful scenery of the river valley, following the trail eventually up the sides of the hills and into the final station where they had their park tickets stamped to signify the end of their journey.

They reached the bus in a village below and waited a typical hora peruana before boarding and getting back on the road to return to Huaraz. Becca spent those first few minutes in the bus glued to the window, alternating taking photos and staring out at the wonders below from the snow-capped Andes to the patchwork of farms below. As she stared back at the opening to the valley they’d just returned from, she felt tears prick behind her eyes.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, whether it was to the mountains or the memories though, she wasn’t sure.