An A-frame stone house sits proudly below us, humble in its stature, at least, from up top, and once we meander down and through its ancient walls, we realize its might and majesty. This little stone cabana beats with the pride of a Riviera mansion, for it actually boasts two stories and stellar, unobstructed views of Machu Picchu below, complete with garden terraces to a precipice point.
We play house here, imagining ourselves a family in this cobblestone abode, windows bent in towards the top, trapezoidal, and a perfect place for the human torso to perch and gaze at the vista beyond.
The front door is itself a window into the world’s possibilities, an open invitation to explore all that points up, down and out to the yet-to-be-known.
Graham and I stand against the stones, flesh pressed on the cool walls, hands feeling the ripple waves that harbored people forever ago. We pose and hog the space as our own for a luxurious moment, spell broken by yoga man and his lady friend as they hello! through the hearth and begin a series of crows, handstands, headstand and more on the edge of the void, a death-defying flow of poses meant to impress his iPhone world.
There’s only one way to go, down, and it’s off we go, one delicately placed foot after another as we shuffle our way downslope via the ancient walkway, steps concave with centuries of repetitive motion.
By 10:50 AM, we sign opposite our entrance signature to signal that yes, indeed, we just hiked Huaynapicchu.