Pacha-mama / Mother Earth

by Tharike (Tara) Perera (Australia)

I didn't expect to find Peru

Connection - a rare thing, I wondered, amongst the connectivity we are saturated in and the interconnectedness we crave. A novel thought that somehow seemed so far removed from my current situation as I inched one step after another towards dead woman’s pass. To the right of me, the Andes mountains fell away into the stubbled shrubbery and foliage creating the intricate visual tapestry of Pacha-mama - the Incan goddess, Mother Earth. My breath was short, sharp yet steady which was followed closely by my footsteps. The air hung elusively like a thin veil taunting my lungs with the hope of another full breath. It was a cat and mouse chase as the air thinned with every 100m I ascended. My heart started to beat faster and faster, a relentless warrior charging through a war to what seemed liked the fight of its life. I clasped my chest with the fervour of its beat as my cardiovascular muscles strained and I hunched over to catch both air and pain. The trail guide’s knowing voice carried over the mountain air “your body is not getting enough oxygen, so your heart is beating faster”. Good to know, I just hoped that Dead women’s pass wasn’t going to name me the same too. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the trail guide praying quietly. I continued to carry forward to the extent that my body would allow. The pain was excruciating, is this what a heart attack must feel like? The thoughts had already started to flood my brain, whilst the rest of my attention traveled to the leg brace and cold patches that were supporting the tear in my left ankle ligament with compression and ice in tandem. The up hill of the Inca trail was largely made of steps, steps that giants would be able to use with ease. To the average human, they required incredible quad strength and a high leg reach. After awhile I resorted to hunching over my hiking poles and hoisting myself over these mini hurdles with my remaining arm strength. The trail guides had this albeit cruel way of describing the not so challenging sections of the trek with the term “Peruvian flat”. This just meant a series of subsequent uphills and downhills followed by a “gentle” uphill which meant a near vertical climb to the average gringo/ foreigner like me. It must be why they called the final 50 step climb to the sun gate “ the gringo killer”. “How much longer to the top?” I asked in bated breathlessness. “Probably another hour” the guide replied. He had said the same a few hours ago. I stopped to take in the surroundings around me, a 360 degree postcard view. Pacha-mama was truly a spectacular sight, auburns, crimsons, mustard yellows creating her pallet upon the picture she painted and ahead of me the stairs. I should have braced myself, the second day was truly a trial by steps, wrapped deliciously around a 5 hr uphill climb to the very top - 4200m above sea level. Suddenly, thunder cracked through the ice blue clouded canopy that hung above us. “The condor” the trail guide noted quickly. The majestic eagle like bird that glided across the sky was a messenger between the earth and sky. Maybe it heard his prayers, a sort of spiritual reception. It got me thinking again about connection, at dizzying mountain heights, where no one can get any sort of cellphone connection, let alone a like or a slippery DM, what does it mean? To be connected? With no one but my trail guide behind me, I’ve never been more connected to myself or to my over bearing heart. In between the relentless steps and thinly laden air, I’ve never found myself being so perfectly where I needed to be as I am. So maybe it wasn’t so novel and although connection might seem rare today, it’s actually all around us, in fact, it is us, it’s in the sky above us, it’s in the earth on which we walk, it’s all encompassing, just like pacha-mama, Mother Earth.