Machu Picchu Camino Inca Trail Cuzco Peru 1996
After breakfast, Salous gave us a two minute pep-talk and congratulated our efforts the previous day. His sense of humour held great appeal and even I was beginning to enjoy his ironic approbation. "The last two days have been quite different," he continued, "The first, trudging through the eucalyptus forest followed by yesterday's long hot ascent. The eucalyptus trees were imported from Australia and have played a major part in Peru's reforestation. They are ideal for our climate, capable of growing up to a hundred metres in height. Alas, we have no koalas. Yesterday's long ascent was an exercise of endurance and a memorable achievement for you all - a day I know that will live with you for ever...."
Today's trek was a comfortable downhill affair, but I noticed a growing reluctance among the masses to get a move on. I set off alone, heading for more Inca ruins. But instead of taking the rocky trail up to the limestone walls, I continued downhill until I came across a stone promontory overlooking the valley. I wanted to write up my notes while they were still fresh in mind. I passed a good hour alone, probably the first privacy I had had since leaving my living room six weeks ago.
The sun came high and hard over my right shoulder as I began to scribble. In the opposite direction were the ruins and I could see the group assembling for Salous' discourse. With the aid of my binoculars, I saw the group sitting on the low walls with their backs turned towards me. There was Ian with his grey T-shirt and its broad red letters and Ruthie in her green J&B number, wearing a distinctive yellow cap, set at a jaunty angle. Salous gave an animated performance, and even from this distance he seemed slightly on edge. But last night, I was reliably informed that Salous had ordered his porters to make a bed of long marsh grass for he and Mark to while away the Inca hours. I can not imagine that Mark reciprocated this kindest of gestures, but all the same, what an interesting situation.
As I scribbled away, I received more than my fair share of local interest. At one point I was joined by a legion of jet black butterflies that were friendly but meddlesome. Two of them landed on the pages of my journal, perhaps they too had heard Salous' story and were hoping for confirmation. Later, I was visited by two wrens; tiny, delicate things of disproportionate beauty to their size, and finally, a pair of yellow-hooded blackbirds. During those solitary passages of time, I felt close to nature and was somehow liberated from the turmoil of truck and tent politics. It was like a happiness I had never encountered. But then the beauty of the moment was destroyed. From the undergrowth, I recognised muted voices, followed by cackles of laughter. Martin and Melanie with Rosy and Mark emerged from the coppice and the morning's magical spell was irreparably broken.
Their arrival was my signal to leave, so I placed my journal in its plastic bag and positioned it in the centre of my pack. It took a matter of moments to catch up with Martin and Melanie and a matter of minutes to leave them behind. But then unexpectedly, I sensed somebody at my back, somebody with short, striding steps making a surreptitious move from behind. It was of course, that dark horse Salous, bounding down the greasy staircase in a desperate rush to catch up with his porter chums. He called me a naughty boy, patted me on the bottom, and firing on all cylinders disappeared off down the narrow track.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
| Our sponsors the College of Public Speaking offers courses in Public Speaking Courses London, Presentation Skills Courses London , Executive Speech Coaching London, Train the Trainer, Advanced Presentation Skills Courses London, Powerpoint and Media Skills. |