The Magic Flute

While in Peru, Nasca to be exact, I contracted a parasite called Entamoeba Histolytica. Just google it or the symptoms, they sound hellish and I can confirm they are as bad as they sound. But more on that another time...

As usual on this day of the Inca Trail I was at the back of the group. At the back as in a good 40 minutes behind. I had to stop  every 10 minutes to catch my breath in the thinning air and scull mandarine flavoured gatorade of which I'd brought copious quantities. Occasionally (actually more often than I wish to admit in polite society) I would also need to stop to answer the calls of nature, which after 2 days of being diagnosed with Entamoeba were still more like fire evacuation alarms informing me with a strong sharp stomach cramp 'Miranda, stay calm, you have exactly 25.7 seconds to find a bathroom or public humiliation will ensure. Good luck with your task in the middle of nowhere, lol.'

At this stage this wasn't actully a result of the illness but the treatment. The antibiotics I was on were very powerful and my stomach felt demolished.

For some reason this day our 2 trail guides had swapped places. C who usually led the fittest and strongest was now doing M's job, chasing up us 'lazy chicas' at the back. C became my company for the next hour or so as we hiked Dead Woman's Pass. The previous night whilst falling asleep in my tent I had wondered how I was going to survive this hardest part of the trail, but C's company was patient and interesting. We talked about Peruvian history, Quechua resentment of the Spanish, taking Ayahuasca and many other things. Because I was distracted (also because we paused often on a ledge when immersed in conversation giving me time to catch my breath) I found the steep jagged incline of the Pass not as hard as I had feared.

However at one point mid intellectual conversation the alarm bells started ringing indicated by a sudden aggressive cramp in my stomach.

'- C,' I said interrupting him, 'I have to go to the bathroom. Soon. As in now.'

My guide very kindly began scouting around for a secluded outdoor bathroom, finding a nice little hill covered in tussocks of tall spiky grass, just off the path around the corner of the trail.

'Ok, you can go to the bathroom here, and I will be around the corner where you can't see me. I will just play my flute.' C had played this traditional instrument many times for us on our hike so far. He seemed to love this instrument very much.

And so I furiously scrambled up the hill to use the biggest and most spacious bathroom I have ever used. Views such as this were around every corner on the trail and often I caught myself forgetting to breathe, too busy just trying to take it in.The navy blue Andes towered above as grey wet clouds floated around their midriffs. Ancient terraces could still be seen marked like choppy giant steps on the grassy mountainsides, and occasionally a llama or cow, appearing as a tiny dot, could be seen grazing nochalantly in a lofty almost vertical field. We were always in awe of how these animals could scale such abrupt cliffs.

On top of the truly sublime panorama I was treated to during my bathroom experience, I was serenaded by the pipings of a woody but delicate flute, echoing off the faces of the colossal Andes cradling our path. Despite my discomfort (going to the toilet in prickly grass can be an abrasive experience at the best of times) it was a bizzarely serene and beautiful moment, imbued with the haunting sense that it was completely one off and unique. There would never be another time in my life when these factors would come together again in the same place and time. I remember feeling rather dazed and suddenly very insignificant.

When I emerged from my spacious cubicle my guide was in full swing. I almost felt like I was interrupting something sacred. He paused his flute solo to ask me if it was ok if I could continue on and he would catch me up.

'We are only ten minutes away from the top, it is not far now.'

And so, feeling like maybe I had walked in on someone else's strange but serene dream I continued my slow but steady way up the trail, into the misty air, climbing the jagged mossy steps, followed by the mountainous echoes of the magic flute.