Peru's Choquequirao Represented the End of a Chapter in My Life

Hey Everyone! I’m going to try to give you a break from all the hard content since it’s the holiday season. This is one of the various retellings of the trip I took in 2011 to see some famous ruins that are still pretty much untouched. I hope you enjoy it!I was hiking with two Olympic athletes and I was a nobody.My companions were Peru’s first winter Olympian, Roberto Carcelen, and Martin Koukal of the Czech Republic. Martin was an Olympic medalist and a world champion.Roberto had organized the trip. The hike to Choquequirao was part training camp, and part promotion for Carcelen’s tourism business.I was there to take pictures and write about it. I didn’t realize, at the time, that this was a lifelong commitment, but I don’t regret it.The three of us were cross-country skiers, though it feels a little silly to compare my minor achievements in the sport with those of my esteemed companions.That’s a bit like saying Michael Jordan and I are both basketball players. While it might technically be true, saying so gives the wrong impression.Still, I was there, in the Andes, with them. Every morning I got up early and was the first on the trail. The Olympians came trotting by mid-morning. By the time I struggled into camp in the evening, they’d already been relaxing for a few hours.All of this happened more than ten years ago. I’m a different person today. I’m slowing down some.I have more time to reflect with fondness on the reckless escapades of my youth. Those escapades mean something different to me now.2023 was the first year in many that I wasn’t able to do my May marathon. I developed foot pain ten months ago and it hasn’t gone away. I tried to ask a doctor about it during a physical but he ran out of the room.I guess I won’t be seeing places like this again:Physical activity is a way to get out of your own head, but you don’t need to go to Peru.You can get out of your head right now if you want. Turn off your computer, open the door, and travel 26.2 miles under your own power. I guarantee all those stresses that have burrowed in behind the bridge of your nose will be dislodged. Instead, you’ll be thinking about:* Rest* Water* Food* ShowerYou need that every now and then.You need to be reminded that you’re a living creature in the physical world. That nonsense you stare at all day on your computer doesn’t really exist.You need to remember that.You need it.When I close my eyes, I see images of my friends running mountain trails. Like this:Don’t you want to be there?My extreme running days might be over, but that’s okay. As it turns out, my daughter had a soccer tournament on the same day as the May marathon. Perhaps that, too, is the end of one chapter, and the beginning of the next.But back in 2011 when I was in the Andes, I could still walk. I could still run marathons, the body felt strong.I’ve never been a fast skier or runner, but I am stubborn.I’m stubbornly good humored.I tend to make it to the finish lines. Not everybody does.I stumbled into camp one evening, exhausted, dusty, hungry, and miserable and Roberto said, “Are you going to yell and scream at me now?”“Why would I do that?”“Because that’s what all my clients do. They say, ‘You said it wasn’t that far!’ or ‘You said today would be easier!’”“I’m not going to scream at you Roberto,” I said with a big smile on my face. Then I started laughing.When I become exhausted, things start seeming funny. Besides, how can you be mad when you’re looking at this:How can you scream at somebody when you’re surrounded by the beauty of the Andes?How can you scream at somebody when you’ve squeezed every drop of magic out of a day?We do that with too few days in my opinion.Today I’m more aware that our time is limited. Now, the way I squeeze everything out of a day is by hanging out with my kids. That might mean painting with them. That might mean playing soccer. That might mean riding my bike with them in the morning to school.I can still run short distances, just not marathons.The day I realized I might not be able to run another marathon, my daughter said, “I’m thinking of running a 5k daddy.”End of one chapter, beginning of another. I felt no remorse whatsoever for no more marathons. Instead, I felt only excitement for the dawning of a new age. Today, I’m in the chapter where I run 5ks with my daughter.But once I was in the chapter where I hiked the Inca trail to Choquequirao with two Olympic athletes.I’d only been married for two years when I made this trip. My wife is from Lima (well, Callao). While I was off prancing in the mountains, she was at home with our infant daughter and another baby on the way.A young, strong man feels a need to go throw himself against the mountain. I was a journalist. I was a writer. The hike to Choquequirao was a terrific opportunity for me. I’d be able to write articles about it for years. It became the last third of my novel Reckless Traveler. It was only a week…My pregnant wife and my daughter were at home with my wife’s family, and I was in the Andes. There wasn’t cell phone service. The terrain was difficult.It all turned out to be more than I’d bargained for.But oh how I’d love to go back there!However, this time not with the Olympians. If I go again, it will be with my wife and daughters, and we’ll take it slow.But, again, you don’t have to go to Peru to have an experience like this. Just go out your door. Grab a backpack. Hike for 7 days. It will change you and ease the weight of your burdens.It will remind you what’s important.Choquequirao is like Machu Picchu without the people. When I got there, I was alone. I walked through the ruins alone. I took pictures.There was a time when you couldn’t do an image search for Choquequirao without finding hundreds of my photos.When I close my eyes, I can recall the feeling of being there. I recall walking up to the gate. It seemed so strange to be there alone.We didn’t stop at Choquequirao, the plan was to hike straight on through to Machu Picchu.It was a long, hard trek.It was desolate out there. There were signs of civilization but they came in the form of ruins, evidence of people lost in the span of time. I could see why they’d chosen to live there.I wished they remained.We crossed mountain passes, some of them in excess of 16,000 feet. Does this seem like an extreme trip to you? Some people know altitude and some people don’t. Even those that know extreme altitude respect 16,000 feet. Calling myself a mountaineer is like calling myself a cross-country skier in the presence of Olympic athletes.I’m not.But I’ve been on mountains.It was on the path to the Yanama pass that I became afraid. I felt the first tingling of panic. It was kind of like having allergies. There was a scratchiness at the back of my throat.You can’t move fast at 16,000 feet. If you run out of breath you’ll never catch back up. There’s not enough air. I would count fifty steps and stop, fifty steps and stop. If danger appeared in the form of a storm or an animal, I wouldn’t be able to escape.I was exposed.You get a sense of clarity on the mountain. I hadn’t had inhibitions about going on this trip. I didn’t regret going on the trip. However, on the mountain, I realized I wouldn’t be making this kind of trip again.This wasn’t right.I realized this was like a chapter that refused to end. It was encroaching on the other chapters. It needed to go back to its place in the book and remain.I crossed the pass. On the way down, I came across a man and a woman who were ascending from the other side. The man was leading a donkey. The woman was riding the donkey. She was barefoot.They made eye contact with me, but we didn’t speak. There was no hostility there. In my thoughts, I wished them well, and I think, in the silence of the mountain, they heard the message.I had my camera in hand and I lifted it to take their portrait, but then I stopped.This wasn’t a moment to capture for the world. This moment was for me.They crested the pass and were gone. Maybe they never even existed.A few days later, we were back in civilization. I’d lost weight. I again looked like I did when I first went to Peru. That had been the beginning of a chapter. Perhaps it had been the beginning of this chapter.I called my wife and she was relieved to hear from me. A week is a long time.A few days after that, I was reunited with my family.It’s been more than 10 years, and I haven’t left their side since.You all make this newsletter happen! Thanks for your sponsorship! I have payment tiers starting at as little as twenty dollars a year.Upgrade at 30% offUpgrade at 40% offUpgrade at 50% offUpgrade at 60% offI’m so happy you’re here, and I’m looking forward to sharing more thoughts with you tomorrow.My CoSchedule referral linkHere’s my referral link to my preferred headline analyzer tool. If you sign up through this, it’s another way to support this newsletter (thank you).I'd Rather Be Writing is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.I'd Rather Be Writing is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to I'd Rather Be Writing at walterrhein.substack.com/subscribe