All adventures have an epic start, at least in fairy tales, for me, my urge to climb a mountain was very simple. I fear heights and suffer from vertigo and I wanted to conquer that.
The sudden demise of my mother who was my rock of Gibraltar left me thinking of how we take our existence for granted. We give absolutely no time to stop and make notes, to see, to breathe — we move like well programmed robots and then suddenly we are gone, unplugged from our existence, it was then that I felt I needed to discover myself, let go of all that holds me down. For as long as I remember, my entire adult life was spent chasing one project or another, executing, achieving, never letting anyone down. My mum wanted me to slow down, she feared I would burn out. I needed time to grieve and to let her go.
I wilfully quit working, started attaching my time to activities I liked doing as a growing girl in Dubai, I was raised here, running along the beach, cycling, activities that I never would have otherwise indulged in, they brought immense calm to me, I focused my pain and loss in them, that’s when the idea of trekking occurred to me and my friend and partner in crime Kripa from I Love Adventures, who indulged me. I booked the Everest Base Camp trek, started training for it. As luck would have it, Nepal went through a huge natural disaster and I had to let go of my EBC dream. That’s when I started studying Peru – The Inca Civilisation and the Machu Picchu trek. It was destiny, things started falling into place, I got dates I wanted, visas, tickets and all… I chose the Lares trek, it is a 4-day trek through the Andes where you reach a height of 4,871m. The brochures were amazing, Reality even better. The Incas were people of the mountain, a supremely intelligent race and seeing the well preserved ruins of Machu Picchu puts you in complete awe of this race, very little is catalogued but what they left behind speaks volumes.
For a first time trekker, with a decent fitness level, I thought it would be a piece of cake, it wasn’t.
Our first day involved walking in the Urubamba valley and soaking in the people who live in the town. It felt so nice. The valley people are warm and welcoming.
Day Two
…started early with a long walk, I had only my track bag, no day pack and I immediately felt a disadvantage as my backpack was heavier than the rest. I felt okay while walking through the most scenic sights that I have seen live. Then came the steep climb and a true test of my will power to go on and not give up. I started lagging behind, my legs kept pushing but my lungs kept refusing. I got tremendous support from two individuals who kept walking with me and supported my slow pace. My guide Roddy and assistant Lucy called this a warm up to what is known as the Andean Flat. We walked up and down 14km through sights and mountains that are unexplainable. We performed a small ceremony asking the mountain god for safe passage until we reached the Konkani Base Camp at 3,800 metres. I burst crying in my tent as nothing had prepared me for how my breathing was. A group member who is a professional athlete told me that’s it’s okay and it happens. Tomorrow will be a better day.
Next day was looming ahead of me. I still had to conquer the pass at 4,871m the guide had briefed us at dinner about the 7-8 hour steep uphill trek. I couldn’t sleep that night. The chill of the mountains and the pain in my body kept me numb.
Day Three
We woke up at 5:40 a.m. and packed our day packs. We were asked to go extremely light. Based on the previous day, I spent a lot of time going around myself, keeping just my water camel and a few requirements in it. We started out of the camp at 7:00 a.m. our target was to reach the pass towards the highest peak by 1:00 p.m.
We started walking, I kept praying that my strength would hold me. It seemed to for a while; once again at the cost of being repetitive, I passed through the most scenic landscape and met full blooded Inca people who lead a hard life in the mountains. With new hope I went forward. An hour into the trek my nightmare began. If the previous day’s climb brought tears to me, what happened on the first steep incline reduced me to a pulp. I lagged far behind. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt like they would burst. I was so warm I wanted to remove all my layers. And I felt myself gasping hard and people fading.
At one point around 3,900m. I just stopped breathing Lucy and a fellow traveller Ronin asked me to take off my backpack and breathe. At that point, I felt frustrated, couldn’t understand, tears stinging my eyes and face. “I can do this” I tell myself repeatedly. I can see the look on the face of Lucy as she opens a strong smelling oil and asks me to inhale. Gradually I feel my breath and both she and Ronin keep me company until we reached where the rest of the group is waiting.
Roddy our trek guide calls me aside and very gently explains to me the trek ahead. Why is my backpack so heavy? And if I have ridden a mule. I know what he means, and my eyes fill up with controlled tears as I cannot let this man see what this trek means to me and how failing it would be failing myself. Yet I cannot let pride stand in the way of my health. So I explain to him my fear of heights and vertigo. I explain to him how I feel my backpack is crushing my back. Very gently he says, take just your water and snacks and put them in his pack. My backpack was removed from my shoulders and put on the mule.
He then looks at the entire group of 16 trekkers and tells them “Zoe, (well yeah they couldn’t get Zoya.) will lead ahead.” I was shocked. I cannot. I will slow everyone down. I can’t breathe. It’s so high — all my fears bogging me down. I see smiling faces, love, and a general “Yes! Zoya you can, we shall take your pace.”
The next few hours amidst the most gorgeous and daunting landscape, with the bag off my shoulders. With my lungs screaming, one leg ahead of the other, the mule carrying my bag and thankfully not me. With numerous moments where I thought I am dead. I made it, the first up the mountain. I sprinted the last few meters up a steep climb to the peak… and collapsed. Breathless and yet thankful I made it. The vastness, the sky, the mountains and I.
Later I got to know one trekker who was 60 years of age and could not do it and had to be put on the mule. That could have been me. But through sheer willpower I conquered my fear and my breathing.
“The worst was over” my guide Roddy said. We now had a climb downhill to 4,200m to reach Patchayu base camp for the night. My recovery was almost instant. A climb down with no breathing issues just a lot of hard work balancing and keeping away from the edge passed in a haze. We reached the camp with burning thighs and feet. Another sleepless night in the wilderness knowing the worst is done.
Day Four
Saying goodbye to the mountains was probably the hardest thing to do for me. I learnt so much from these mighty giants. Forever in my heart I shall carry it. We walked downhill to the Urubamba Valley in the last four hours. From here we go back to Ollantaytambo where we board a train to go to the Machu Picchu proper.
It was a trek I took for granted and a lesson learnt well.
The trip was organized by I Love Adventures – an adventure travel company based in UAE who work with leading international adventure organisations to provide fun – cycling, trekking and active holidays to over 120 destinations worldwide. Connect with them at www.iloveadventuretravel.com. Or get in touch at info@iloveadventuretravel.com
Words + Photos by: Zoya Razak
