In this post, I'm testing the philosophy that less is more, simply because it is pretty hard to describe how amazing it is to hike around here, even when that means you have to wake up at some un-godly hour of the middle of the night and hike by the light of a headlamp.
Picture it.
It is 3 in the morning, you are clambering over volcanic rocks, breathless because the air is thin, farther up the mountain you can see the lights of a group that is further ahead. You are wearing three layers of pants (which makes high stepping up onto all these rocks a little more challenging), two pairs of socks, a shirt, a fleece, a jacket, gloves, a hat, etc, but you are still cold. You have to stop to breath, but you can't stop for too long because it is COLD (did I already mention that it is cold? Whooops!). You can see all kinds of constellations, shooting stars, and the weird refracted light off of the snow from the peak that looms closer and closer. If you succeed you will arrive at the summit with the sun. And then you will be higher than you have ever been before. The sky will be a different color blue and you will be able to see for miles and miles.
Yep, that's basically what it's like to hike around here. The past couple of weekends I was able to hike twice, once into the Colca Canyon and once up to the summit of El Misti. They were both wonderful in their own way, but I think that the view from the top of Misti made it my favorite. It was so unreal that every once in a while, I glance up at the volcano and think to myself, "I know what the world looks like from the top of that thing." But we saw condors when we did the Colca Canyon, so can I really choose?
Less is more. It's impossible to describe how beautiful it is here. It makes something rise up out of my soul. Give me nature, give me peanut butter and a spoon, and give me the Milky Way in all it's glory and I will have a happy heart.
Picture it.
It is 3 in the morning, you are clambering over volcanic rocks, breathless because the air is thin, farther up the mountain you can see the lights of a group that is further ahead. You are wearing three layers of pants (which makes high stepping up onto all these rocks a little more challenging), two pairs of socks, a shirt, a fleece, a jacket, gloves, a hat, etc, but you are still cold. You have to stop to breath, but you can't stop for too long because it is COLD (did I already mention that it is cold? Whooops!). You can see all kinds of constellations, shooting stars, and the weird refracted light off of the snow from the peak that looms closer and closer. If you succeed you will arrive at the summit with the sun. And then you will be higher than you have ever been before. The sky will be a different color blue and you will be able to see for miles and miles.
Yep, that's basically what it's like to hike around here. The past couple of weekends I was able to hike twice, once into the Colca Canyon and once up to the summit of El Misti. They were both wonderful in their own way, but I think that the view from the top of Misti made it my favorite. It was so unreal that every once in a while, I glance up at the volcano and think to myself, "I know what the world looks like from the top of that thing." But we saw condors when we did the Colca Canyon, so can I really choose?
Less is more. It's impossible to describe how beautiful it is here. It makes something rise up out of my soul. Give me nature, give me peanut butter and a spoon, and give me the Milky Way in all it's glory and I will have a happy heart.
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