Peru: The Ruin of Me

Although it seemed a bit presumptuous to disturb Beelzebub at home, the view of his abode was spectacular. Diablo Huasi's cliffside tombs are similar to La Petaca's, but our vantage point was closer, and I could see windows, doors and bricks, all filling crevices like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Inside one opening, we spotted what appeared to be human remains, though it was impossible to tell for sure.

We returned to Tajopampa for lunch. Then Sinecio decreed that we had time to visit one last site -- the ridgetop settlement of La Joya -- if we hurried. I could barely walk, much less hurry, but I didn't know if I'd ever return, or if the area would still feel so wild when I did. I decided to go; Cyana would stay behind.

In the rain and mist, Sinecio and I crossed a gully and a series of mountain pastures speckled with yellow flowers. After about an hour, we came to a small stone house where I spotted a boy peering out from a doorway.

"A gringo is here," the boy yelled to someone inside.

"Where?" I replied in Spanish, making a show of looking around suspiciously. "Where's a gringo?"

After Sinecio received permission, we climbed higher into the pastures, passing ruined stone roundhouses whose walls are now used to shelter gardens and potato patches. Farther up the hill, we found another round structure, this one decorated with the same sort of trapezoidal friezes I'd seen at Kuelap. A few minutes later, the land ended.

Ahead lay only thousands of feet of empty air and swirling mists. The entire valley we'd ascended stretched below us, green and lush and mysterious.

Although I was exhausted and developing blisters, I traipsed along the ridge, climbed over boulders and walked alongside the stone wall that clung to the mountain's edge. Finally, Sinecio said we had to go.

The walk back was cold, wet and miserable. Luckily, I had a bit of good news to buoy my spirits. The owner of the land next to our shelter needed us to take one of his horses to Leymebamba. And Sinecio had told me I could ride it if I wanted.

The next morning, I rode out of Tajopampa on a small brown horse named Yegua, whom I loved dearly and with all my heart. I was not carrying my own things, or even my own weight, and I did not care.

I was out of the mud, and that was enough.