Advertisement
Published: January 24th 2012
Edit Blog Post
Inti Punku is Quechua for door of the sun. High above the valley, this ruin awaits the solstace, the day the sun passes through its door. Inti Punku is the highest ruin in sight of Ollanta, eleven thousand feet above sea level. The people in my organization told me I shouldn't try to summit this trail until I had completelty acclimated to the altitude of the town. Looking back, they were probably right. I didn't set out to prove them wrong. I actually had only planned to walk half way up, to the canteras (the Inca quarry), but for some reason I couldn't stop. This is how it happened.
I left the house around nine, after an unusualy large breakfast. I went straight for the market to buy coca leaves. I still hadn't tried the leaves, but figured their medicinal uses might help me as I climbed into the thin air. A large sack of coca cost me less than two soles ($.70). I filled my water bottle up at Awamaki and headed for the trail I knew next to nothing about.
From my view in town, I could see the trail scaling the belly of the entire mountain
facade until it vanished in the rock scree, that was las canteras. I had no plan, but I had packed for whatever the mountain could throw at me.
I decided to try the coca at the begining of the trail. The taste was bitter and herbacious, an aquired taste to say the least. My tongue became numb and the path seemed to come at me, rather than me at it. At first, I felt a bit over-cafeinated, but the head rush soon faded and left my body feeling tireless. Whether for the coca or the adrenaline that surges with any new adventure, I felt invincable.
The trail rose gradually. As I look at it now from my balcony, I would say the first half of my hike had no more than a thirty percent grade. I was cruising.
The trail was ancient. The Inca had used it to bring gigantic stones from the rock slide to the construction areas in Ollanta. Along the side of the trail were the exact stones that were in transit when the Spanish arrived.
I took a break by a babbling stream and reveled in the beauty of the Sacred Valley.
The valley looked like a patchwork quilt and its people seemed no bigger than ants. With a sip of water and a pinch of coca, I pressed on. Inti Punku seemed impossibly far away and I could see no trail that led to its peak. I continued with the casual spirit of "lets play it be ear." I would handle each challenge and decision as they came. I resolved to climb this mountain short sighted, if not blind.
The sound of my boots on gravel was soon accompanied by a wind whisteling of amplified intensity. My lungs seemed to compress with every step and the pulse in my temple was sounding like a drum. My ears had begun to pop and I felt as though I was swimming to the bottom of a deep ocean. It was at about the time that I was faced with a crucial decision. A fork in the path. Left led up to some ruins I assumed to be part of the quarry. Right snaked off in the direction of Inti Punku, but faded far below the summit. I hadn't come this far to climb half a mountain. I could feel the altitude, but
it wasn't unbearable. I felt fine. I craned my neck beck to meet the stare of Inti Punku and took a right.
As I climbed higher, the trail I'd chosen broke up into innumerable cow paths. I now navigated a maze of steep switch-backs with plenty of loose footing, cactus, and cow droppings. Every ten feet left me gasping for air. I had no choice but to choose small checkpoints, seperated by no more than fifteen to twenty feet each. When I reached a checkpoint, it would take me longer to catch my breath than it had to travel the short distance. "Get to that cactus, then we'll see how we feel." "Just to that next patch of brush, then I'll rest."
For a little over an hour, I inched my way up the steep slope. I was too determined to be defeated. Turning back was no longer an option. Still, Inti Punku didn't seem to be getting any closer. From where I was standing, I could see the myst oozing from its stony walls. It seemed more a part of the sky than it did the mountain. I felt dizzy, but no pain. I chewed a few
more coca leaves, and with a grimmace pushed myself to the next checkpoint.
The wind was howling now, urging me to turn back. The temperature dropped and the clouds rolled in. Both to the North and East I could see dense rain showering the valley. If that rain reached the summit, I could be faced with flooding, if not a minor land slide. The thought of either while I was so high made my pulse shift gears to a pace I had only felt once or twice before. Trouble loomed in all directions, my legs quivered under my weight, and the cow path I had been following had suddenly came to its end.
Inti Punku lay directly above me, no more than three hundred feet. I knew that I could no longer reach the top by any gradual slope and the impending storm left me no time to retrace my steps. I had only one option. Up.
Small patches of shrubbery covered the rock face above me and I decided to risk my weight upon them. As quick as I had grasped one shrub, I was on to the next, desperately trying to distribute my weight as
I scrambled up the nearly vertical slope. I kept my back arched and refused to look down. As I had done with the switch-backs, I set up mini checkpoints where I would cling to the rock face and wait for my breath to return. The wind was growing stonger with each gust. Gravel slipped below my feet and fell to places I dared not imagine. Soon the clouds enveloped me in their mysterious veil and I lost sight of the ruin.
It was urgency more than determination that got me through the last of my checkpoints. When I rose from my hands and knees, I stood before a well maintained path that led to the doorway of Inti Punku. My jaw dropped. I traced the trail down to where I had taken a right. I laughed ironically, shrugged, and continued up.
I entered the small ruin through the gate of the sun and collapsed on a pile of hay in its center. Laying on my back, the sky seemed to spin around me, as if I'd reached the axis of the world. Looking back at the trail and the village far below, I couldn't believe I had made
it. And didn't want to believe I had to make my way back.
I wished to have better understood the significance of the sun gate. I could only run my fingers along the ancient stones, ignorant of what they really meant. There was something sacred about the place. Though it crossed my mind, I dared not remove on of the condor feathers from its stony crevaces. After a few self-portraits, I again turned to the path. I had climbed with determination. I descended with accomplishment.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.079s; Tpl: 0.017s; cc: 11; qc: 49; dbt: 0.0422s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb