I struggle to catch my breath. My back is tired from the heaviness of my backpack and, without my daily Venti non-fat vanilla latte, my head is woozy from the 4am wake-up call. Still, I trudge onward. I’ve been climbing for four days, slowly, tepidly, anxiously; but excited with anticipation for that which lies ahead. I’ve imagined a thousand times the emotion I’ll feel as take my first step onto the mountain’s hoary ridges: the crisp, light air; the sun dripping its rays over the top of the Old Peak; the eponymous sun dial beckoning me towards it. I take a deep breath and my steps quicken, the ancient Incan sanctuary luring me with its promise of finally discovering the Lost City of Machu Picchu.
