#14-Words from my Journal
High in those cold Peruvian mountains
August 13, 2022 — Peru
I hit the road again after a brief hiatus in Lima, Peru where I worked, rested, waited out more of this winter weather down here, and planned the next month of southward travel.
This journal entry was jotted down while waiting for my chicken and rice in a man’s home-turned-restaurant in a tiny town nestled in the endless, towering mountains between the coast of Peru and the eastern border Peru shares with Brazil and Bolivia.
Tuesday — Day 174 — August 9, 2022 — Huaytara, Peru
Moments that make a life;
sitting above it all on a small cliffside where my little white-washed stone lodge is perched overlooking the small mountain town of Huaytara.
the sunlight I’ve missed so much over the last 2-months of coastal winter riding dying so quietly on the mountains encircling me.
the shouts of children running through the schoolyard below, the laughs and shouts of people returning to their homes after a day of work.
walking thru a tiny town plaza catching the double takes and stares as the man in the boots click-clacks in his unhurried but sure stride, searching for food.
a plaza not unlike a hundred others. Stares like thousands more. The same click-clack from America to Peru.
green painted chairs. White faded table clothes with the dull shine of the lone, 30-year-old light bulb illuminating the space in its weak light.
a man in a sweater on his phone but unlikely to lose his only customer of the night.
the click-clack of the booted man found his seat and his food.
dying of the road-migraine from too many miles at too high a speed with too much wind. Almost unbearable. I need to learn to rest more frequently.
entering the mountains, finally. Headed to Cusco. I know the coast was the worst of the cold and wind and gloom, unending nothingness.
I feel encouraged that I have planned a route specifically to get away from the 3,000km of coastal desert.
I broke away into a valley and my mindset and outlook shifted entirely.
two toothbrushes at the sink in the corner.
cigarette pinched between his lips.
the man in the sweater opened his house for business.
on days like this with a headache like this, I don’t walk far, I take what I can get and stumble home to collapse in bed.
I am happy to pay extra for my meal.
I am happy to eat.
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