Dec 19: Micho Picco (highlight of trip)

The view I can see right now is amazing. I'm on top of a mountain that overlooks Micho Piccu, what is left of an Inca city.

To the right of the village carved into the middle of a mountain is a valley with a river running through it. I don't know why they call the centuries-old buildings ruins, they are in every bit of good shape as the day they were built.

I think coming here is something everyone should do in their lifetime. I don't know much about Inca history, so I can't pretend that the buildings are more than old stone houses without roofs to me, but it's still cool to see them.

I'm on a mountain that overlooks the ruins. Only 400 people a day are permitted to make this journey to protect the trail. The trail was crazy hard. It's literary a staircase into the mountain that gets pretty steep at points.

I decided just to get to the top and I pass several people on my way up, though I did stop several times to take pictures of the view or passage. It wasn't hard to find inspiration on the trail, all I had to do was look behind me at the amazing view and knew it would be better with the more steps I took.

Once at the top, I just felt physically exjubilated (exhausted and jubilated at the same time). I was out of breath and covered in sweat, but I knew it was worth it and that having to climb the mountain to see it made it that much better, as if I had to earn the right to see what I was seeing.

There were a lot of people already at the top when I got there. I found a place on a rock to sit down and started taking pictures. It was silent up there, with the exception of four camera's beeping as they bought the view into focus.

I moved to a new rock and took off my long-sleeve shirt and decided to lighten my backpack by stuffing my face full of the food in it. As I sat there, I could hear about four different languages. I can't say for sure, but I'm think the same words were being spoken by everyone.

The view of the river and mountains up there was so amazing, I had to keep reminding myself to look at what I actually came up there to look at.

Coming up the staircase, all I could think about, other than how much longer to the top, was how hard it must have been to build the stairs into the mountain hundreds of years ago. It'd be no small feat to do today, I'd love to ask an Inca how they did it then.

There is a roofless house in front of me and I know someone, or a lot of someones, had to carry each stone up the mountain one at a time. They took hilly land and made it flat. Having walked up the same path they did, I can fully appreciate their work. This morning everything looked like piles of rocks to me.

To the left of the village is the road we took to get here. It is long and windy, it looks like the type of road they film car commercial on and say "Zoom Zoom Zoom" as the cars take the corners. Though it is not paved, I can sit here and imagine how the road was built and the equipment needed to build it.

In the same line of site, I can see what the Incas built and what they did to the land. I don't have a clue how they must have done it.

I was on the top of the mountain for about two hours. I spent some time talking to four American college students, including one from Boston. He told me about this city on the way to Lima where you can fly above the lines the Incas left on the ground that makes shapes. I think I'm going to try to do that on my way to Lima.

After I was done at the top, I walked down the hill about 30 feet where I had noticed a flat spot on my way up so I could sit here and write until I run out words, then write some more while overlooking the ruins and the river.

It started raining a short time ago but I didn't want to give up my spot or stop writing. I looked behind me and saw an oversized rock in the rock wall on a corner that makes like half of a cave. I took my Gortext out of my bag and used it to form the other half of the cave.

I am able to sit here and write and remain dry. Unless they go the long way down, people have to walk past me to get down, but only very few people see me, and they only can if they turn around in the house.

It's cool to people watch up here. A couple from Kentucky noticed me and took my picture. I asked them to take one from my camera.

I'm going to sit here until the rain stops, fill out the post cards I have with this view on them while I can see the view and I'm sitting on a pile of weeds, I hope they aren't poisonous.

Since I'm high in the mountains, I am at the same level as the fog. I can see it moving up here and every once in a while, it blocks the view of the ruins.

It felt really good to climb to the top of the mountain. Once up there, I kept thinking, I'm at the top of the world. Then I kept remembering that I'm not really, it just feels as I am.