Brenda's Bicycles

This post contains 283 photos, including detailed narratives. It covers June 10-11, 2014, documenting two day-trips to “Island of the Sun” (Isla Del Sol), on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. Each morning, I take a tour boat to the Island, and each evening I return to Copacabana, Bolivia.

As usual, the photos in this post are thumbnail images. Please click on any photo to enlarge it. The thumbnails leave much to be desired as far as colors and resolution – plus the thumbnails clip all of the edges. I use thumbnails for the post itself, because it gives people an opportunity to get a summary glimpse without downloading huge amounts of data for the high-res photos.

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Visiting The South End

On Tuesday, June 10, 2014, I take a tour from Copacabana, Bolivia to the southern end of the Island of the Sun. I arrive at the marina area of Copacabana at around 8:00 a.m., giving myself plenty of time to find the correct boat. I didn’t buy my ticket directly from the tour company. Instead, I had bought it from a small travel agency. Finding the correct boat is easy, and at just after 8:30 a.m. we pull away from the dock.

Standing on the beach at 8:18, waiting for the boat to arrive.

Some of my tour group waiting …

I am one of the early ones on the boat, and even though it is early morning, and still quite cold, I decide to sit on top of the boat. I am at the front, on the left side of the boat, bundled up in many layers …

Still at the dock, looking forward from my left-front seat …

Also still at the dock. In this photo, I am looking back at my hotel, and the “Calvary Hill” behind it.

Getting ready to push off the dock.

But then, a group of local people show up, looking for a ride to Island of the Sun … The captain lets them on.

Candid photos of the local women. I love the way they dress.

Another beautiful woman boarding the boat at the last minute.

The stuff she is carrying on her back is huge.

Finally, we are on our way at 8:41 a.m. …

In this photo, we are moving away from my hotel.

Moving around the point of Calvary Hill.

With a strong zoom, looking at Island of the Sun in the far distance (left center).

Another tour boat from a different company, just in front of us. Many boats leave Copacabana in the same general time frame.

Looking back at Calvary Hill. Most of us on top of the boat are bundled up tightly.

You can see Copacabana in the right center.

Looking off into the distance, toward the north. This lake is so huge that you cannot see the other side in many places.

The mountains that you can barely see are on the Peru side of the lake.

That is the Island of the Sun in the distance, just left of center.

Looking back at Copacabana. It is hard to tell distances in many of these photos, because I am constantly changing the zoom to frame images differently.

The sun is behind the clouds, creating an intense chill. I am freezing right now, but determined to stay on top.

With the sun back out again, Bobby-bear wanted to come out for a look. Brenda-doll decided she was still too cold (She forgot her coat and doesn’t have any fur).

Using the zoom to bring the Island of the Sun in a lot closer.

We will be passing through a narrow gap in this peninsula.

Up close, the gap looks a lot wider, but the bottom is shallow on either side, so we keep to the very center.

Another view of the Island of the Sun in the distance.

Getting closer. That little island on the right sits between the mainland and the island. There are large power lines stretching across to the Island of the Sun, and there is an intermediate tower on this tiny little island to support bring electricity to the big island.

Looking toward the southern tip of the Island of the Sun.

Looking back as three tour boats follow in the distance. Copacabana is no longer visible.

A self-photo, showing just how bundled up I am. I am wearing two shirts, a sweater, a sweatshirt, and a coat, the the hoods of the latter two both up on my head.

We are still quite far away. Earlier photos were zoomed in.

This is the “Island of the Moon”. I originally paid for a tour that was supposed to stop there on the way to the Island of the Sun. But I bought it from a small travel agency. When I got on the boat, the captain told me that we were not going to the Island of the Moon, because I was the only want that wanted to go there. After expressing a strong desire to go there, he told me “no” and I lovingly accepted “what is”.

As we get closer and begin to cruise up the eastern side of the Island of the Sun, I take a few photos of the shoreline.

I notice this old “temple-like” structure. I later learn that it is the “Temple of the Sun”.

Another similar photo with slightly different framing.

Getting closer to a more populated area.

Pulling into the little town of Yumani, which is the main town on the southern end of the Island of the Sun.

Once on the shore, I take this photo of a map of the island. If you click and expand this photo, you can see a large yellow dot with a yellow circle around it, located in the bottom right section of the map. It says “You are Here” by the yellow circle.

Today, I will spend the entire day in that bottom right area. Tomorrow, I will explore the rest of the island.

The same map, but showing the upper portion of the island. Tomorrow I will be visiting the northern tip, and then I will walk the entire length of the island, from north to south.

Looking back at the dock. That larger boat on the left runs from Puno, and I believe it goes further into Bolivia (but not Copacabana). I really don’t know much about it.

A sign near the boat dock. It reads: “Welcome to the community of Yumani, Island of the Sun, Southern Part. The right to enter costs 5 Bolivianos.”

I pay my “5 Bolivianos” as I leave the boat dock. Every little village on this island charges a tourist tax for the right to enter their boundaries.

Another sign near the beach. This one purports to show what the island looks like … BUT the proportions are wildly exaggerated. This image makes the southern end look huge, and shows the northern end as tiny. This is just not the case.

The entrance to the “Escalinatas Yumani” – an old Inca stairway that leads from the beach up the steep hill. These steps are very steep and beautifully landscaped.

From part way of the hill, looking back toward the Island of the Moon (left center).

Looking more to the south, back toward the mainland.

This similar photo gives better perspective. You can barely see that tiny round island (right of center), and that big piece of land in the center is the tip of the mainland.

A zoomed in image of the “Island of the Moon”.

There are many donkeys all over this island. They are used to carry things up and down the steep trails.

I am still hiking up, up, and up.

The colors and clarity on this photo give a beautiful look at adobe construction.

Looking more toward the west. That tip of land across the bay is also part of the Island of the Sun.

Looking toward the southwest. That is Peru over there.

Looking more to the west. That little peninsula is part of Island of the Sun.

From this spot, I turn back to the north and resume my climbing. I am not yet to the top.

Just more typical sites. There are lots of donkeys here.

I am headed to the “mirador” or “lookout point”. I am going to the top of the hill straight ahead, but the highest point is far off to the right.

As I keep climbing, I pass this woman with her three sheep.

From still higher, looking back to the southeast. That is the “Island of the Moon” out on the left, and the land on the upper right is back on the mainland.

From where I am standing, looking toward the southern tip of the Island of the Sun. The buildings visible are the uppermost part of Yumani. The distant land is on the mainland.

Again, looking to the east.

Looking more northeast from the same spot.

Continuing to climb. I am now on top the mountain, walking east toward the highest point.

Glancing south toward the mainland, the top of the community of Yumani in the foreground.

Looking to the northeast, toward another small village down by the water below.

The same view, but with a zoom.

Approaching the “mirador” or lookout point. This building sits at the highest place. I am a little over 13,300 feet in altitude here.

These next photos are all taken from the top of the building. This is looking at the mainland to the south.

Looking a little southeast, with the Island of the Moon in the left center.

Looking to the northeast.

Looking a little more to the north.

And even more to the north.

This one is facing slightly northwest.

Looking to the west, slightly south.

Standing on the top of the building, with the wall visible, looking south and slightly east.

More to the east.

Bobby-bear and Brenda-doll enjoying the sun and gorgeous views – views in every direction. If it is not the highest point on the island, it is at least very close to the highest point.

Another one with my companions, looking toward the south.

And one with me all bundled up, with Bobby and Brenda in the background. There is a breeze up here, making it quite cool.

Bobby and Brenda enjoying the view of the Island of the Moon.

As I post these, I realize that there are so many photos of the same things. but I just can’t get myself to delete any of these photos.

I spend some time gathering what looks like White Sage … at least some type of sage-like plant.

Evidence of farming on top of this hill at 13,300 feet. It seems to be a common farming technique to make piles like this to dry the crops. These plants have some type of bean pod. I wonder if they might be Lima Beans.

Looking to the southwest.

Someone built a rock spiral up on top. I walk around it a few times.

Looking down at the community of Yumani.

I sit up on the mountain, meditating with a full dose of chocolate, staying up the for a very long time. I started walking back to the village in the early afternoon, sometime around 1:30 p.m..

And I pass by this donkey.

And this one too.

A man taking his donkey for a walk.

This “internet” sign seems slightly out of place in this setting.

Walking back down through the upper parts of “Yumani”.

More donkeys, these carrying heavy loads.

There seem to be lots of “Eucalyptus” trees in this part of the world. They seem to grow well at this altitude. They have many in Pisac too …

Looking down below at the lower parts of Yumani, and at the boat docks.

Rather than walking all the way down quite yet, I walk south, along the ridge. Soon, I can see the Temple of the Sun, far below (This is zoomed all the way in). The trail is steep leading down to this ruin, and I decide I don’t want to go down there, because I will then have to climb back up. I walk part of the way before turning around.

Another view looking down at the “Temple of the Sun”. This is also zoomed, but not quite as much as the previous photo.

And another similar view, this one including the boat dock below the temple.

The same view, without the zoom. The Temple of the Sun is way down there, and there is not enough time to make the hike.

A similar view, panned more to the left, with the mainland in the background.

Looking back toward that long peninsula where the boat passed through a gap on our way here. If you look closely, Copacabana is in the far distance, just below that mountain in the middle.

As I walk back toward Yumani, I pass by this cluster of adobe homes.

Continuing back toward Yumani.

I am playing around with “foregrounds” in these last few photos.

And this one too, with the Island of the Moon in the background.

Looking down at Yumani from this side.

Some of the steep hillside leading down to the water.

The lighting on this one is much better. It is quite the climb to get to the upper homes. The donkeys must be a welcome asset for those who own them, especially since there are no roads or vehicles on this island.

As I walk along this trail, this group of people is preparing to cook a pig.

Back to the main trail, above the main “Escalinatas Yumani” or Inca Steps that lead back down to the water.

Walking down the trail.

A woman working in her yard (sorry it is so blurry – focus is difficult when using a strong zoom).

Almost back to the bottom.

You cannot tell it from the photo, but this is really steep.

Looking back up at where I have been.

Another photo looking back up. This area has beautiful landscaping.

Once I reach the bottom, I walk north along the shoreline, looking for a place away from the boat docks where I can fill a one-liter bottle with water from the lake.

I come across these men building a traditional “reed boat”. I want to go further, but when I ask for permission, they tell me “no”.

I ended up stopping here instead. I even dip my toes in the cold water for a while.

My bare feet in the waters of Lake Titicaca.

Looking back over at the boat docks.

I keep my toes in the water for about ten minutes. The water is not freezing, but it is very cool.

The water is very clean and clear here.

Letting my wet feet dry in the sun.

This dog stops by for a visit.

Looking back at that earlier map, I notice that it also shows altitudes. The “mirador” where I was meditating earlier appears to be labeled as being 4055 meters, which would be 13,303 feet above sea level.

As I sit on the beach, my boat will not leave for another hour, so I do some more meditating with my friends.

Looking up the shoreline from where I am sitting (I am on the ground, using this bench as a back).

From the same spot, looking in the opposite direction.

Bobby and Brenda enjoying the sun.

It really is a beautiful day, and it is very warm right now.

Finally, I am back on the boat. As before, I sit on top.

I am looking back toward the shore as we wait to leave.

A different view looking north.

Looking down at the dock.

And back toward the Island of the Moon. I would like to have visited that island, but it will not happen today.

Looking back toward the mainland.

Finally, I have been trying all day. If you look closely, most of the the white above the water is not clouds. Those are extremely tall, snow-capped mountains. As I take this photo I am already at 12,507 feet. Those mountains are at least four or five thousand feet above me. I think I heard someone say they were part of the Cordillero range. I am not sure.

I am surprised when our boat approaches and stops at the Temple of the Sun. I had wanted to go see it. But for whatever reason, I don’t want to see it right now. I assume that the boat I take tomorrow will also stop here, and that I will go see it then. We stop here for about 10 minutes, and our driver almost leaves four people behind when we leave.

A closer view.

Sitting on the boat, enjoying the sun, waiting for some of the group to return.

A few people from a different boat decide to go for a dip in their underwear.

Diving in to the cooooold water.

And soon, we are back on our way.

Cruising south along the mainland. I look up and see the almost-full moon.

The same image with some zoom. The moon is beautiful.

Looking toward Copacabana. That is the Calvary Hill in the center.

Approaching Calvary Hill.

And finally returning to the beach in Copacabana. It is just before 5:30 p.m. when we arrive.

A mother and son, exploring/working near the shore.

Cruising slowly by my hotel.

Later that evening, I take a photo of the sunset as seen from my hotel room.

It has been an amazing day of exploring, hiking, and meditating. I love the energy of Lake Titicaca.

A Trip To The North End

On Wednesday, June 11, 2014, I begin with the same routine. I get up early, eat breakfast in my hotel, and walk down to the marina before 8:00 a.m. … but this time I go to the marina right in front of my hotel. I will be traveling with a different tour company today, and we are headed to the north end of the Island of the Sun.

Sitting on my boat, looking across the beautiful marina at Copacabana.

Another boat leaves just before us.

Bobby and Brenda pop their head out of my daypack for a quick look around.

Today, I do not take any more photos along the mainland. This photo was taken at 9:46 a.m. as we pass by Yumani and continue toward the north end of the island. It only took us an hour and fifteen minutes to get this far. It seems like it took much longer yesterday.

A view from the lake, looking at the place where I sat and stuck my feet in the water just yesterday afternoon.

And this is a much better view of the reed boat that those men were building.

The view area where I sat and meditated yesterday is just up and over this hill.

Looking back toward the edge of Yumani as we leave it in our wake.

Passing by that little village to the north … the one I saw from the view area.

In this photo, you can barely see the building at the view area where I meditated yesterday. It is at the very top of that center mountain.

It is hard to believe that this hill is really a mountain of 13,303 feet in elevation.

Soon, we come to another lake town. We actually stop here, just briefly, to drop off a few local passengers.

Looking down at our captain. He has two outboard motors, but I believe he is only using one right now.

Heading north along the shoreline.

At about 10:15 a.m, we approach our destination.

slowly moving toward the dock.

It is a beach town, with the first sand that I have seen in a long time.

The name of the community is “Challapampa” (pronounced Chay-yuh-PAWM-puh). It is illegal to build a fire on the beach, and it is forbidden to throw trash on the beach. The last rule is “enjoy a beach without carpa” … I have no idea what “carpa” might be.

But there is not much time to play in this town. We have less than three hours here, and we have two options. We can return to the boat at 1:30 p.m. and then take a boat ride to the south end of the island … or we can hike back to the south end and meet the boat at 3:30 p.m. in Yumani.

There are some ruins at the very north tip of Island of the Sun, and it takes about an hour to get to them on foot. I definitely want to make that hike, but I am not sure after that.

In an hour I will make the decision about what to do next.

Meanwhile, I set off across the beach, headed toward that trail straight ahead. It leads to the ruins at the north end.

Looking back at the beach as I start to walk up the trail.

A woman washing her clothes nearby.

From a little further up the trail, you can see that this little part of town is actually on a very narrow peninsula, with beach on both sides.

This photo is taken from further up the trail.

And further still. This area is gorgeous.

Looking ahead and to the right (northeast).

And looking back once again.

This style of home is very common here.

More breathtaking scenery.

Continuing up the trail, headed to the north end.

A small cluster of homes ahead.

I walk over a variety of terrain. The rock here is almost white.

Looking back. The town where our boat landed is in the far distance.

Continuing onward.

Below, I pass by another beautiful little cove. The water is so clear.

I eventually come to a sign, giving a rudimentary map of the sacred sites ahead. The sign refers to a sacred rock, a ceremonial table, and the ruins of Chinkana.

If you look closely, you can see the “ceremonial table” in the flat area, just left of center. The trail leads down the hill here.

More of the beautiful white rock.

Following the trail down to the ruins.

As far as I can tell, this is the “Sacred Rock”. It is a huge rock, with hundred of “carins” (little rock piles) all over the front of it. I do not know the significance of why it is sacred, and there is no information available at the time to give me any details.

Another view of the sacred rock.

And this is the “ceremonial table”. I can only assume that this is original, and was placed here by the Inca people.

Another view of the ceremonial table.

A few minutes later, I enter the ruins of Chinkana.

I explore briefly, and then meditate for a while. But I have a tight schedule if I want to make it back to find the boat.

These ruins are situated in a gorgeous setting.

Bobby and Brenda enjoying the view.

They love it here.

This photo is from the far north end of the ruins, looking back to the south.

Looking down toward the water.

The beach below looks so inviting.

This photo gives a good idea of what these ruins are like. There are a lot of walls, with numerous doorways and passages leading in all sorts of directions.

The only thing I know about these ruins is that they were originally built by the Incas.

Another self-photo.

This one has a better smile.

This is another good view of the ruins.

Soon, I make a decision, and decide that I want to hike from the north end of the island, all the way back to the south end.

I have a three hour hike ahead of me, and it is already 11:30 a.m., so I do not spend much more time in the ruins. Instead, I walk … and walk … and walk.

This photo is on a nearby hill (up the trail), looking back at the ceremonial table (lower left center), the sacred rock (barely right of center, just left of that black wall), and the Chinkana ruins (far left center).

A similar view from much higher up. The altitude makes this climb more difficult, and it is also quite steep.

I try to get a photo of a huge bird that briefly circles overhead.

And then, I resume the steep hike, step after step.

Again turning around to look back at the north end.

Another attempt at capturing that large bird. I wish the photo were not so blurry.

A large pig, grazing by the trail.

Soon, I stop and again look back toward the north end. I am getting higher and higher.

A very similar photo from slightly higher.

Looking ahead as I continue to climb, well above the 13000 foot mark by now.

Looking across a small bay toward another piece of the north end of the island.

Looking back at the north end again.

Looking forward, toward the south. This trail has lots of steep ups and downs. I am quite curious as to what that gate might be on top of the next hill.

On the way, I pass this little hut. It is a store, in the middle of nowhere.

looking down to the east, I can now see the starting point of my hike. My boat is probably still anchored right down there. This is where we were dropped off. From here I hiked for an hour to the north end. And now, I have hiked for an hour back toward the south, but doing so on a different trail. The trail that I am now hiking seems to follow the upper ridges and view areas of the Island of the Sun.

Another view of Challapampa.

Looking back toward the north. If you click on the photo, you can also see more of the trail to the left and the town of Challapampa down below to the right.

Continuing on to the south, I am still deeply curious about what is on top of that tall hill.

The mountains across the lake to the east are especially gorgeous today. You can see those majestic snow-capped peaks sticking up above the clouds.

When I finally reach the top of the mountain, I am quite surprised that it is a ticket booth (boleteria). The village situated down to the east has decided to charge a fee for using this Inca trail. I fully support them for doing so, because I am sure that it takes a lot of time and money to pay workers to maintain this trail.

The sign reads (loosely translated) You need to pay 15 Bolivianos for the use of this inca trail. The money is destined for the school, the elderly, and for the basic needs of the community of Challa.

I just now realized that there is an English translation at the bottom.

I gladly pay my fifteen Bolivianos and continue hiking.

A self-photo on top of this mountain. It is very windy up here, and the cold is freezing on my neck, so I have my hood on under the hat. This really helps to keep my neck warm. I am grateful that the wind is blowing from the north, so that it is at my back and now blowing into my face.

Looking down toward the community of Challa.

And now, continuing along the trail to the south.

The trail just keeps going and going.

I pass what looks like the remains of an old Inca structure.

More of the same ruins.

Another little store in the middle of nowhere. And they have gorgeous yellow flowers in front.

Some buildings on the other side of the trail, just opposite the store. They appear to be unoccupied and unfinished.

A front view of the larger building.

And a look at the store. It must take at least an hour to bring supplies up here from the town of Challa below. We are in the middle of nowhere.

A woman herding sheep.

Continuing southward. You can finally see the mainland beyond the south end of the island.

And the trail just keeps going.

Looking at the mainland in the distance. Copacabana is barely visible in the right center of the photo.

More walking, down and back up.

And this “back up” part is very steep (at least it feels that way). I am starting to get tired.

More down, and then more up ahead.

Finally, a glimpse of homes in the distance. It looks as if Yumani is not much further. I also recognize that mountain. I see the “mirador” buildings on top of it. It is the place where I meditated yesterday.

But I am not as close as it looks in the previous photo. This is the same photo without the zoom. There is still further to hike.

The beautiful, towering, snow-capped mountains in the distance.

And another view of those mountains (with a little zoom). The clouds are dissolving a little.

Soon, I am delighted to walk through the shade of a grove of Eucalyptus trees.

Looking down toward a village below. I think this is the place where we stopped to drop off a few passengers this morning.

A woman sitting in the middle of nowhere, just enjoying nature.

Looking ahead, off to the side of the trail.

Passing through a few more homes. We must be nearing more populated areas.

I stop to take a quick photo of all of the tickets that I have now paid for on this island. The top right one is for the community of Yumani. I purchased it yesterday, and will need it to get back into the town today. The bottom right one is for the community of Challapampa. I purchased it this morning when I left the boat. The one on the left is from the community of Challa, and says that I have paid for the use of this Inca trail.

Those buildings on the horizon look as if they may be the beginning of Yumani.

I take this photo from a distance (with a zoom). I first see this little boy blocking the trail with his llama (or maybe alpaca) and decide to take a photo of the odd sight.

When I get closer the boy is very stubborn with me, demanding that I pay him for the photo. I feel like it is extortion, and am not eager to comply with his demands.

Once I get by the young boy and his barricade, I continue walking toward the homes ahead.

And I turn around to look back as well.

More farming going on here.

Yes, I was right. That is the community of Yumani ahead. And I see another toll booth at the entrance. I am glad I saved my ticket from yesterday.

The view of the mountains is now quite gorgeous.

Another view with the mountains in the distance.

Just the majestic mountains themselves.

Beginning my decent back down through Yumani. I am now in familiar territory. It is now just after 2:00 p.m., but I still have another half hour to go before I reach the beach below.

I do not remember seeing this tiny church when I was here yesterday.

More donkeys on the trail.

A man taking his donkeys down the hill. I later realize that it must be market day in Copacabana, because there are many donkeys down below, waiting for boats and merchandise to arrive.

A look at the gorgeous mountains across the lake, with the Island of the Moon in the foreground (right center on the lake).

The mountains with fun foreground.

Finally, back down at the beach. People, donkeys, and bundles of stuff are everywhere.

During the next hour, this area accumulates increasing numbers of donkeys.

I am here an hour before I need to board my return boat, so I sit and watch people and donkeys … and also enjoy a yummy ice cream.

Waiting for the boats to arrive.

I sit on the dock and look at the green moss in the water below.

My boat is here, but the captain is nowhere to be seen. We still have a while to wait.

Looking back at the terraced hill.

More donkeys on the trail above, making their way down to the beach.

It is starting to get interesting down here.

Animals everywhere.

More and more. It is fun to watch.

Townspeople and animals, all waiting for new market goods to arrive.

Finally, boats start to get here. They are unloading large bundles of goodies.

And starting to tie them onto the backs of the donkeys.

Getting ready to hike the mountain.

The dock over there is now crowded with people unloading the boat and loading up the donkeys.

Back To Copacabana

At shortly after 3:30 p.m., our captain shows up and we begin the journey back to Copacabana. I am surprised when the captain does not stop at the “Temple of the Sun”. When I ask him, he tells me that we are not going to stop. I can only smile. I had hoped to visit there on the way home today, but I am also fine with not stopping.

I am very tired, and eager to return to Copacabana. It has been a beautiful but exhausting day.

After about an hour and a half journey, we arrive back at the dock near my hotel at around 5:00 p.m.. I seek out a quick meal, do a little impromptu research on buses, and then purchase bus tickets for tomorrow afternoon. It is time to cross the border back into Peru. My first stop will be Puno, on the northwest side of Lake Titicaca. I do not yet know what I will do when I arrive. I may turn around and go straight to Cusco, or I might stay for a few days. I love traveling without plans.

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

This post contains 96 photos, including detailed narratives. It covers June 8-9, 2014, documenting my travels back to Cusco, an overnight bus ride from Cusco to Puno (on the northwest side of Lake Titicaca, on the Peru side), and another early morning journey from Peru into Bolivia, landing me in Copacabana, Bolivia, on the southern end of Lake Titicaca.

As usual, the photos in this post are thumbnail images. Please click on any photo to enlarge it. The thumbnails leave much to be desired as far as colors and resolution – plus the thumbnails clip all of the edges. I use thumbnails for the post itself, because it gives people an opportunity to get a summary glimpse without downloading huge amounts of data for the high-res photos.

CLICK ON ANY PHOTO TO ENLARGE TO HIGH RESOLUTION

An Inti Raymi Parade

At about 11:00 a.m. on June 8, 2014, I hoist my daypack onto my back, and begin to carry my small carryon suitcase down to the street below me. I had considered taking a taxi to the collectivo stop in the center of Pisac, but instead, I simply drag my suitcase over the rough asphalt, making the long hike on foot, arriving at my destination about twenty-five minutes later.

Soon, I am in a minivan, climbing the mountainside and then racing over the Andes, on my way to Cusco. Shortly after midday, when the minivan drops me off at the end of its run, I begin another twenty minute walk to the Plaza De Armas.

I am not expecting it, but I stumble right into a large parade. The annual Inti Raymi festival peaks in the last part of June (around the 23rd and 24th), but apparently the festival is already in full swing, with many activities happening throughout the month.

After a quick lunch, I find a curbside seat, and begin to take a few photos.

The spot where I am sitting does not have the best lighting for photos … lots of shade in the foreground, with bright sun in the background. That is the cathedral in the back left.

The parade consists mostly of people marching by in beautiful indigenous clothing, with each group being dressed slightly differently.

There are a few small bands mixed in here and there.

At the start of some groups, they carried huge banners like this one. I am unable to read them because I am at street level, and they hold them horizontally, in a way that the words and letters are not all visible.

After the parade finishes, I sit in the same spot for a while, and then move around to take a few more photos. This one is taken in the Plaza De Armas, looking toward the mountains on the west.

This one is on the northeast side of the plaza. There is a KFC chicken place in that building (very low key facade). Sometimes, when I am craving chicken, I love to eat here.

As the parade dissipates, they move these fence barriers back in front of the cathedral, saving them for another day.

I sit on the steps in front of the KFC for most of the afternoon. First, a young man comes by selling his artwork. As is common here, there are many artists that paint beautiful, indigenous and cultural paintings on 11 by 17 paper, and then sell them for only one sol each (about 40 cents in US). I am not interested in buying any paintings right now, and I tell the young man I don’t want to waste his time, but he sits and chats anyway. He is quite interested in shamanism and mystical things, and tries to become my teacher. It is a very weird conversation, and I feel quite relieved when he finally tires of me and moves on.

Then, I meet a young woman who is sitting a few feet away. She just ended a difficult conversation with other street vendors. We start to talk and have a long and fascinating conversation, all afternoon. She is from Germany but looks Latino, and has a Spanish name. I learn that she has spent considerable time in Guatemala … that she was born in Guatemala. Her mother could not take care of her, so she was adopted by German parents. She did not meet her birth mother until she was nearly twenty. It is a beautiful story, and we have a fun connection. We talk until the sun is gone, when the temperatures are so freezing that she needs to leave.

I too decide that I am cold, so I soon catch a taxi down the the bus terminal for “Cruz Del Sur” (the name of the bus line). I sit in that terminal for four hours, waiting and killing time, mostly through meditation. Finally, at 10:00 p.m., I am on my bus. It is an all night bus destined for Puno, which will be a six and a half hour journey.

I do not get much sleep, and am extremely groggy when the lights come on in the bus. A glance at my watch tells me it is almost 4:30 a.m. … we are almost there.

At 4:45 a.m., I find myself standing in the Puno “Terminal Terrestre” (ground transportation terminal) … at least that is where I think I might be. Having done no research in advance, I actually have no idea where I am, or what I will do next. I see several people trying to stop passers by, advertising bus trips to Copacabana and La Paz (in Bolivia) … but I avoid them. I want to orient myself before I do anything.

Copacabana, Here I Come

I sit on an old fiberglass chair and open my tour book, trying to gather a little information that might help me. I have considered staying in Puno for a day, giving myself time to figure things out. I do not need to cross the border into Bolivia until the end of tomorrow, so there is no rush.

But after meditating and pondering for a few more minutes, I hear one of those vendors again calling out “Bus to Copacabana”. It is an indigenous woman. Her voice catches my attention and a nudge in my heart tells me to go talk to her. I learn that at 6:00 a.m. there is a bus to Copacabana, and it only costs 20 soles (about $7.50 US). I follow her to her office, which turns out to be a tiny travel agency at the other end of the bus station. Soon, I have a ticket in hand and I head upstairs for a quick (and freezing) breakfast. It is not the food that is cold. It is the temperatures. Luckily, the tiny bus station restaurant has a couple of propane heaters running at full blast.

Lake Titicaca is at an elevation of 12,507 feet (3812 meters) above sea level, and the temperature right now is close to freezing. I would guess that it is considerably below freezing.

After a short wait, I am finally on the bus. I have a reserved seat up on the second level, but when I find it, someone has already occupied the space. The woman in charge sends me back downstairs to the lower level, where there is an empty seat.

As we pull out of the bus station, one of the first things that hits me is the glare of an extremely bright sunrise. The sun is to the east, just rising over the lake. But I am on the right side of the bus and the lake is on the left. I am not in a position to take photos of the lake at this time.

Instead, I begin to document the terrain and countryside as I begin the three and a half journey (including border crossing time) to Copacabana, Bolivia, on the southern end of Lake Titicaca.

This is a very typical view. At this extremely high altitude, there is not a lot of natural vegetation.

I find it quite interesting that most every home in this little village has at least one outhouse … and that they are nearly all identical, with blue-green paint. It looks like the main material used for building here is adobe.

More of those copycat outhouses.

Throughout the entire journey along the western side of the lake, little towns and villages dot the landscape.

It is winter here, so not many crops are growing. I understand that potatoes are a main staple in this part of Peru.

Some little homes along the highway. In this village, the outhouse color seems to be a burnt reddish / earthy color.

Here and there I see evidence of farming. I think those are piles of wheat stalks, stacked up in a cone shape for them to dry.

More typical scenes along the road.

The gas stations in Peru are called a “Grifo” – which literally translated means “faucet”. This is a very typical gas station for this area.

This is also a very typical construction style … using clay bricks or blocks. In this part of the world, it is quite common to leave the exteriors of such buildings completely unpainted. This particular building is still in the process of being built.

More construction, with a young girl running along … as if she is late for something.

A cluster of homes …

More typical scenery, with a few adobe homes here and there.

Another cluster of homes on the hill.

Finally, I am able to get a camera angle that allows me to capture a glimpse of Lake Titicaca.

This photo does not show it, but Lake Titicaca is huge, and by volume is the largest lake in all of South America. It is situated in what is called the “Altiplano” … or “High Plains”. It is a huge area surrounded by what appear to be small mountains – but most of these “small mountains” are at least 13,000 feet tall. The lake is 118 miles long (190 kilometers) and 50 miles wide (80 kilometers), with a surface area of 3232 square miles (8372 square kilometers).

The lake never freezes over, but according to Wikipedia, the average low temperature in June and July can be around 18 or 19 degrees Fahrenheit (or -7 to -7.5 Centigrade). I am here in early June, and can attest to the fact that it gets extremely cold at night.

I manage to get these lake photos because the woman at the window on the left side of the bus has fallen asleep. I am actually zooming my lens to the point that I can see through the window (at least six feet away) and get so-so photos of passing scenery.

More typical lake scenery. The lake is only visible at certain points in the journey from Puno to Copacabana.

One last lake photo before the Bolivia border.

That is the Bolivia Immigration office in the background. We first had to go to two separate buildings on the Peru side, one building to get a stamp on our tourist card, and the other to then get an exit stamp on our passport. Then we walked about a hundred yards to the Bolivia side where I stand now.

US citizens need to purchase a Bolivian visa for $135. US currency is required, and it must be in excellent condition. I am prepared, but have to dig through my money to find bills that the agent will accept. He rejects several of my Twenty Dollar bills.

Finally, after getting copies of my passport, filling out the paperwork, and paying the money, I have a Bolivian visa pasted on a page in my passport. It is good for about five years, but will only allow me to be in Bolivia for 90 days each year.

I am slightly concerned because my passport is so full of stamps that I can probably make only one more border crossing (after this full trip) before I have no more pages left to stamp. I believe that the US embassy can give me additional pages that can be added to the back, but I need to take care of that at a later time.

The same Bolivia Immigration office, from further away. I had to go to that little copy shop in the corner to get passport photocopies.

A glance at the lake as seen from the border crossing.

Soon, I am back on the bus, headed toward Copacabana, which is only about fifteen minutes down the road.

An indigenous Bolivian woman with her son, standing by the road. I can see the slight difference in her dress – not quite the same as on the Peru side.

Copacabana, Bolivia

As mentioned earlier, Copacabana is a small town on the southern end of Lake Titicaca, on the Bolivia side of the lake. About 60 percent of the lake is in Peru, with the other 40 percent in Bolivia. The famous “Island of the Sun” is on the Bolivian side, and Copacabana is the main point of access to that “Isla Del Sol”.

Not counting surrounding areas, the city itself has a population of just over six thousand inhabitants. Plus, as expected, there is a large tourist presence here, with many hotels and restaurants. I understand that the town can be quite crowded on weekends, because many people from La Paz, Bolivia come to enjoy the lake. But I am here on a Monday, and it is quite tranquil.

It takes me a while to get used to the new money and exchange rates. Here, they use the “Boliviano” where in Peru, we used “Nuevo Soles” or just Soles (Sol is singular).

I quickly find a beautiful little beachfront hotel, and the price is quite inexpensive.

This is my first view of Copacabana. I do not know it yet, but I will be in a hotel on the beach, just below that distant mountain.

This photo is taken from the window of my hotel room. I am facing mostly southwest.

My bed. I love this room … but it can be FREEZING at night. No direct sun during the day, and no heating system, with lots of window coverage that allows the cold to penetrate.

After my first night here, I ask if they have any type of heater. They give me a small “califacion” device (a little electric heater that barely warms … and tell me to only use it for an hour or two before bed, but to not leave it on all night or they will have to charge extra.

The exterior of my hotel … the “Lago Azul” or Blue Lake. I am in the room on the second floor, on the right side, in the shade (no direct sun).

The beach/ marina near my hotel. On each of the next two mornings, I will be meeting in this area to catch a tour boat.

Walking the main street in town. It is undergoing a great deal of construction as new pipes are being placed on either side of the street.

From just up that street, looking back toward the lake. I don’t know it yet, but that little yellow building in the middle is the tour company that I will use tomorrow to go to “Island of the Sun”.

Further up the street … more construction.

An interesting combination of simplicity with technology … an adobe home with a satellite dish.

After a few hour nap (mostly without sleeping) I get up and explore this fun little town. Soon I find myself walking up a hill, determined to make it to the top – which I am sure is over 13000 feet.

Looking down at Copacabana as I climb.

Looking down the hill as I reach a little rest/view area.

A monument at this stopping area.

The words on the monument begin with … “Welcome to the Sacred Heart of Jesus”

A beautiful first glimpse of Lake Titicaca to the North. I am not sure, but later confirm that the land visible in the far distance is the “Isla Del Sol” or “Island of the Sun”.

A view of the bay. It takes about two hours by tour boat to reach the Isla Del Sol, which in this photo is in the distance at the left edge of the photo.

Looking up at my ultimate destination … the top of this hill. I do not know it yet, but I took a wrong turn at that view area, and have taken the difficult way up to the top. The trail here is sketchy, and is often loose dirt and gravel, without a clear path. The real trail has rock steps.

Looking down at the shoreline from my hiking vantage point.

Once at the top, I can also look the other direction, down toward the marina and Copacabana itself.

With a slight zoom, you can see my hotel with the blue roof, lower center, near the beach.

And zooming in further, my hotel is now obvious.

At the top of this hill are numerous monuments. It is a Sacred Hill, and I believe it is called “Calvario” … or “Calvary Hill”.

Copacabana in the background.

Looking down at Copacabana.

More of the monuments.

Looking to the north.

At the top of the hill.

A photo of “Island of the Sun”, with a full zoom …

And more monuments.

A view to the west, with some of the marina barely visible below.

Passing a woman and her dog as I walk back down the hill.

A candid photo …

A church at the bottom of the trail.

It reads “Chapel of the Lord of the Cross of Quolquepata”

Heading down a street toward the upper part of town.

Most all homes in this area appear unfinished and unpainted. I am sure that it is a lot nicer on the inside.

Looking down another street, you can see that very few people put plaster on or paint the exterior.

A large church near the center of town.

A closer view of the building.

Photos are not allowed inside, but I find a room in the back with many different representations of the Virgin Mary … and take a few photos here.

This is the famous “Our Lady of Guadalupe” … she is famous all over Latin America. I first saw this image in Mexico.

I try to get a candid non-flash photo inside the church as I leave, but it turns out quite blurry.

Looking back up at the “Calvary Hill” … I was just up there taking all those previous photos.

Same photo with less zoom. As you can see, the sun is almost setting. The time here is an hour ahead from that of Peru, so this photo was taken at 5:12 pm.

Beautiful lighting from the sunset as I walk through the center of town.

Mother and child. in traditional clothing.

This monument is in the central plaza of Copacabana.

Still in the central plaza.

Another zoomed-in look at the hill where I was climbing. It doesn’t look like much, but I am sure it is at least 13,000 feet above sea level. Climbing at this altitude can be quite exhausting.

Back on the beach by the marina. That is my hotel at left center.

A little closer to my hotel, with the Calvary Hill behind it.

A late afternoon view from my hotel room window.

A tour boat arrives from Island of the Sun. This will be me tomorrow evening. The sun is almost down.

This is the end of this short photo post. I will spend the next two full days on the Island of the Sun (day trips). (I will post photos from those trips as a separate blog.)

Shortly after this photo is taken, the sun disappears and I literally go to bed. It has been a long day, with almost no sleep last night. I find it extremely difficult to believe that just yesterday afternoon, I was in Cusco, and that I took an all night bus to get here …

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

This post is part two of a two-part posting. It contains 116 photos, including detailed narratives. It covers June 2, 2014, my final day in Machu Picchu – including my hike up Wayna Picchu Mountain. The final photos in this posting cover my return train ride to Ollantaytambo, later that same evening.

As usual, the photos in this post are thumbnail images. Please click on any photo to enlarge it. The thumbnails leave much to be desired as far as colors and resolution – plus the thumbnails clip all of the edges. I use thumbnails for the post itself, because it gives people an opportunity to get a summary glimpse without downloading huge amounts of data for the high-res photos.

CLICK ON ANY PHOTO TO ENLARGE TO HIGH RESOLUTION

Hiking Wayna Picchu

In early May, just before traveling to Pisac, I purchased a ticket to enter Machu Picchu on June 2, 2014. And something special about that ticket was that I paid extra for the privilege of being one of the first 200 people with permission to climb the famous Wayna Picchu Mountain beginning at 7:00 a.m. on that same morning.

Only 400 people can climb that mountain each day, with the first 200 starting at 7:00 a.m. and the second 200 beginning at 10:00 a.m..

At the time that I purchased my ticket, the tickets were already sold out for nearly four weeks in advance. During the high season (beginning in June) the tickets can be sold out months in advance.

After leaving the ticket office, I decided to go back to purchase a second ticket to enter the park on the day before. I decided that I wanted to have strength to explore Machu Piccho, and that after climibing Wayna Picchu, I may not be able to do much of anything else. So I also purchased a ticket to spend June 1, 2014 in the ruins as well. Then I went to the office of “Peru Rail” to purchase my train tickets. That is how this all came about.

These first photos cover my day of climbing Wayna Picchu.

Just as I did yesterday, I get up really early, and go over to the buses at just after 5:00 a.m., finally getting on one of those buses at about 5:40 a.m..

This is a self-portrait of me on the bus.

At just after 6:00 a.m. I pass through the entrance gates to Machu Picchu. Soon, I empty all unnecessary items out of my daypack, and I leave them in a plastic bag at a baggage storage area just inside the park.

Within minutes, I head, without delay, toward the entrance gates for the Wayna Picchu hike. I want to get an early start.

This photo was taken at 6:16 a.m. as I hurried toward Wayna Picchu.

Another photo of the ruins, taken as I hurry to the trail entrance.

One of the huts near the trail entrance. To my delight, when I arrive at the gate, I discover that i am the first person in line. I camp out in that spot, not moving for the next half hour. I want to be the first person to start the hike.

As I sit by the locked gate that blocks the trail entrance, I take several photos. This one is fun, showing the dew drops on a few plants as the sunrise peeks over the mountain tops.

Another similar photo. The sun (which is up and to the right) catches these dew drops and gives them perfect lighting.

This is the sign right next to the trail entrance. I study it several times. It takes me a while to figure out how to read it. Essentially, in addition to documenting altitudes etc…, it points out that there are actually two trails here. One goes directly to the top, after which people return down the same original trail back to the starting point. This option takes an average of two hours for a round trip.

The second option goes to the top, just like the first. But once there, the other trail leads down the back side of Wayna Picchu, dropping nearly 1300 feet to come caverns, and to the Temple of the Moon. Then, to get back to Machu Picchu, the trail climbs back up four or five hundred feet before joining the original trail. The sign indicates that this longer hike has an average completion time of four hours for the round trip.

As I stare at this sign, I do not believe that it would be possible for me to do the second hike. I expect that I may struggle greatly, just to get to the top. The “one hour” estimated climbing time might just take me two or three hours. I do not fully trust my physical conditioning, especially at this altitude.

This is the locked gate that leads to the trail. I am sitting on a rock, right by the gate.

A photo of Wayna Picchu, as seen between two of the wooden poles in the gate.

A close-up of the gate. I am eager to start. The gate is supposed to open at 7:00 a.m., but no one comes to open it until around 7:05 a.m..

Some of the people waiting to make the climb. By the time the gates open, there are at least four times as many people waiting. Those in the first group can start climbing as late as 8:00 a.m., so not everyone is here waiting.

This photo was taken twenty minutes after the previous one, shortly before the gates open.

My first photo of the hike, taken at 7:09 a.m.. I really was the first person through the gate, and “number one” on the sign-in list for the day. I get about a five-minute head start before anyone follows me. I fully expect that, before I reach the top, that a huge number of people will have passed me.

By the way, this photo is looking back at Machu Picchu Mountain.

And this photo is doing the same. In this one, you can see part of the ruins just above the shady area.

Looking down in the canyon where I hiked two days ago. In this photo, you can actually see the trail that follows the train tracks, on the right side of the river.

Looking at Wayna Picchu mountain, from the trail. Luckily, we do not climb on that steep cliff side. The trail veers to the left, and switches back and forth along a slightly more gentle slope – but it is still VERY steep.

The woman seen in the bottom right, passed me after about ten minutes. She had been number two in line. In late June, I actually see her in Pisac. She recognized me and we talk for a few minutes.

Looking up a steep section of the trail. Nearly the entire one-hour hike is steep stair steps like these. Many sections are so steep that steel cables are provided to give balance and support in the climb.

The photos do not really show the true nature of the trail. It is hard to see the slope without actually standing there in person. This section of trail is not quite as steep as most of the trail.

At 7:25 a.m., I pause briefly to look down back toward the Machu Picchu ruins. It is a gorgeous view, and i am only 16 minutes into the climb.

Taken from the same place, with a stronger zoom, showing the ruins below.

And another similar photo, but taken at 7:45 a.m., twenty minutes later, from much higher up.

This one was also taken at 7:45, but without the strong zoom, giving more perspective to just how high up I am now.

And a third one at the same spot, with a strong zoom.

I take this one at 7:49 a.m., giving a slightly different perspective for a little higher up.

Also taken at 7:49 a.m., in this zoomed one, you can see some of the switchbacks on the road that leads up to Machu Picchu.

This was taken at 7:52 a.m., and shows much more of the road leading up to the ruins.

To my delight, at 7:54 a.m., I take this photo. I am standing just below the top of Wayna Picchu. I literally completed the climb in only forty-five minutes. That is the ruins far below, and in the foreground, several of my fellow climbers are enjoying the view from a flat view area. I did not really stop there; I wanted to get to the top sooner.

As it turns out, only around eleven or twelve people arrive at the top before I do. The top is quite difficult to maneuver, because it is a bunch of pointed and slanted huge rocks.

This is a short tunnel that I have to climb through in order to climb the final twenty feet or so. On the other end is a steep ladder that leads to the very top.

A view from the very top, looking down at the ruins and Machu Picchu Mountain behind them. This photo was taken at 8:01 a.m..

Rather than attempting self-photos up here, I ask someone else to snap several photos of me, sitting here on top of this part of the world. I am quite proud of myself.

Yes, I am VERY tired, but I did it, faster than most people, and I feel energized.

Another one at the top. That is the ruins in the far distance, to the side of my head.

Another photo, looking down at the beautiful scene below.

This one is a self-portrait. I am quite happy.

And another.

At 8:04 a.m., a young man took this photo of me, standing on the highest rock in this area.

And another. I am happy to have these photos.

A few others at the top. It is very difficult to move around up here. Very steep on all sides, and these rocks are quite jagged and weirdly spaced.

A few others excitedly taking photos.

By 8:07 a.m., I step out of the crowd at the top of these rocks, and move a little way away, getting a photo of the crowd where I was standing a few minutes earlier.

Another self-taken photo.

This is on the back side of the peak. If you look closely, you can see a little sign there, with an arrow pointing to the right. Everyone needs to go down this way, but perhaps twenty feet further down, the trail splits. One direction goes back down the same way we came up. The other goes the long way, first dropping 1300 feet to the Temple of the Moon.

Below, if you look closely (or enlarge the photo), is where the trail splits. At this point in time, I remain undecided about which path I will follow. My legs are quite tired after an hour of steep climbing.

Down at the bottom of the twenty foot drop, where the trail splits. The left leads back to Machu Picchu. The right leads to the Great Cave (Gran Caverna) … and also to the Temple of the Moon. When I arrive here, and take this photo at 8:13 a.m., I make a quick decision.

I am going to hike to the right. I know the estimated total time of the trail is four hours (including the hour I have already spent) … but I am excited to venture on … and I have already seen all of the ruins in the park below – at least I have seen what I need to see.

The top was so crowded that there was really not much space to hang out anyway, so I begin what turns out to be a long and steep decent, down nearly 400 meters, or around 1300 feet (dropping far below the level of Machu Picchu).

One last glance, looking back toward the top of Wayna Picchu. you can see a few people up there.

Suddenly, I remember Bobby-bear and Brenda-doll. They really want proof that they too were up here, so I take a quick photo, with the summit still visible in the background.

A steep and narrow trail leading down the back side of Wayna Picchu. I think the waterfalls where I hiked two days ago are right below, in that canyon just to the left of the trail.

This is much steeper than it looks in the photo.

A similar photo.

This photo, with my foot showing at the bottom, gives a better feeling of the steepness as I gradually descend these narrow, uneven, and very steep steps.

Looking back up on another section of the trail.

In a few places, I climbed down steep ladders like this one.

Continuing down, down, down, down, down …

Finally, after forty-five minutes of down, down, down … I find this sign that points toward the Gran Caverna (Great Cavern), indicating that it is only twenty minutes away.

I soon find myself in this meadow area, walking near the Temple of the Moon, on my way to the Gran Caverna, which is a little further down the hill.

This is the sign for the “Temple of the Moon” as I pass it by.

This is a gate I pass through as I continue on the trail.

Looking up at the gate from further below.

The entrance to the “Great Cavern”.

Closer to the sign that marks the entrance.

The sign says the altitude here is 2266 meters (7434 feet) above sea level.

According to some sources, the top of Wayna Picchu is 2720 meters (8924 feet), meaning that my decent from the top was about 454 meters or 1490 feet – a very steep and difficult climb down.

Given that Machu Picchu is at 2430 meters (7970 feet), I will now have to turn around and climb back up 536 feet to return to the ruins. As it turns out I have to go up and down and up and down and up again.

In total, the original ascent was nearly 1000 feet, with a 1500 foot decent after that, and another 500 (plus) foot climb.

Inside the Great Cavern … It doesn’t look so great after all. It is actually quite small.

Another photo inside. These two photos really show about all there is to see.

Soon, I climb back toward the Temple of the Moon. In this photo, I am about to arrive. It is above me, just left of center of this photo.

Inside the Temple of the Moon, taken with a flash. It is dark in here.

I end up sitting near where the previous photo was taken. I meditate for perhaps a half hour while I rest and regain my strength.

This photo was taken from the spot where I was meditating, looking back toward the entrance area.

There is an orange stretcher there, which I can only assume is here in case someone has an emergency (such as heart attack or other serious issue) and is unable to climb out under their own power.

Before leaving, I asked the security guard (yes, there was a guard here) to please take a photo of me. I am sitting on a rock, just inside the entrance. This temple is also situated inside a large cave.

At 10:13 a.m. (three hours after beginning the hike this morning), I begin climbing back toward Machu Picchu. I am very tired by now.

This is the first part of the trail. I have an hour to go, and only about 500 feet to climb. But it seems that the trail just goes up, and up, and up, and ….. more up.

Another section of the trail. The vegetation is different here. I am not sure what that bright thing is on the left. It looks like a funny plant that caught the sun at just the perfect angle.

And it just keeps stepping up….

Finally, around 10:26 a.m., the trail seems to level off, and I come across this old small section of ruins.

I also find myself in an incredible view area. I am able to finally see the Machu Picchu ruins from this side of Wayna Picchu. If you click on the photo to enlarge it, you can easily see the tiny cluster of lighter colored ruins far in the distance (on top of the foreground mountain, and below the top of the peak of Machu Picchu Mountain in the far distance).

A glimpse inside this tiny ancient structure.

I take advantage of my zoom to get a beautiful photo of the entrance area, near the main gate of Machu Picchu.

And another fully zoomed photo of the caretaker’s hut region. This is where I sat yesterday morning as I took photos of the sunrise.

Then to my dismay, as I round the next bend of the trail, I see this huge vertical cliff between me and my destination.

At first, I wonder if the trail will take me over a narrow ledge, straight across the cliff – a cliff that is covered in gorgeous colors.

Another view of the cliff ahead.

Then I see the steep steps heading down, down, down. I don’t know how far down they go, but it feels like at least 200 feet, possibly more.

Continuing down, down, down …

And then, after an easy trail below the cliff, I have to go back up, up, up … on the other side of the cliff

And more up, and up, and up.  The scenery is gorgeous, but I am panting for breath.  It is 10:34 a.m. when I take this photo.

As I reach the top of this unexpected climb, I turn around and take another photo of the beautiful cliff, under which I just climbed down and back up.

And a look from above at some of the steps that I just climbed. (Hard to see in this thumbnail image.)

And another look back.

Soon, I find another ladder. I have to climb this one.

A glimpse in the direction of Machu Picchu.

Finally, I rejoin the main trail. At the junction I see this sign telling climbers to to up (and not down the trail that I just climbed).

I know exactly where the exit is, but I am happy to see this sign. (Photo taken at 10:48 a.m.)

Getting nearer to the ruins below (yup, I climbed back up above the ruins, at least another couple hundred above them … overall I think I have ascended close to 1000 feet from the Gran Caverna. I realize that with all the ups and downs, the four hour hike has literally been quite equivalent to climbing to the summit of Wayna Picchu, TWICE.

When I finally reach the the guard station at the beginning of the trail, I am exhausted and excited, both at the same time. As i “sign out” in the book, indicating that I have now completed the hike, I ask the guard if it is OK to take a photo of the book.

I am SO proud of the fact that I am number ONE on this list (enlarge the photo if you want to see) … and that my checkout time is exactly 11:08 a.m..

Since my “sign-in time” was 7:06 a.m., it seems that I completed this entire “four-hour” hike in only “four hours and two minutes”. And it was NOT easy.

Before doing anything, I rest on a bench in one of the huts near the trail entrance. I lie down and close my eyes for about twenty minutes. But finally, not getting much rest, I decide it is better for me to keep moving.

As I start to walk away, I take this photo of a man standing on top the lower nearby hill. The time is 11:28 a.m..

I soon begin to walk back through the ruins, looking for a shady space to meditate.

Looking up at the “Temple Zone” as I walk by, searching for shade. Machu Picchu is kind of “unfriendly” in this category. They only let you walk in certain areas, and totally keep you off the grassy areas in the middle. The places where you are allowed to walk and sit are quite limited – especially those with shade.

Looking toward the base of the hill that goes back up to the caretaker’s hut.

Looking up at the place where I meditated in the shade yesterday. It just seems too far away, with another huge climb to get there. I cannot imagine climbing up there again with my now-extremely-tired legs.

Looking up at the caretaker’s hut. NO, I DON’T WANT TO CLIMB UP THERE.

Finally, I discover a shady little cove, under some rocks, where I can sit and meditate – and I have this gorgeous view.

And I LOVE this photo.

A self-photo while I am inside this little shady cove.

And another one …

After being here for about forty-five minutes, the sun changes positions enough that I lose my shade. This is the spot where I have been sitting. My shady spot is finally so tiny that I have to move.

In search of better photos of Wayna Picchu, I walk over to the east side of the ruins, and get this spectacular vantage point of the steep, cliff-sided part of Wayna Picchu. I would definitely NOT want to climb this side.

Essentially, I climbed up the face, just to the left of the cliffs … then climbed over the top and down the back side, then around the far side back up to the original starting point.

Another similar view of the full Wayna Picchu Mountain, without the ruins blocking my view.

Looking down at the tall mountain between Machu Picchu and Aguas Calientes.

And another glance at the zigzagging road that brings nonstop buses from the valley floor to the top of the mountain.

I had intended to stay longer, but I am so tired from hiking. I decide to leave at shortly after 1:00 p.m..

There is a long line of people waiting for buses. Finally, at 1:34 p.m., I take this photo inside my bus as I head back down the mountain.

It has been a very long day, given the fact that I have already been inside the Machu Picchu area for seven and a half hours.

As we head down the mountain, I take a few photos through the bus window.

In this one, you can barely see a corner of Aguas Calientes at the end of the valley below.

This is the last photo I take in the Machu Picchu region.

Ollantaytambo, Here We Come

I arrive back in Aguas Calientes by around 2:00 p.m., but I no longer have a hotel room, and my train does not leave till around 5:30 p.m. – I have several hours to kill, no place to go, and am so tired that all I want to do is lie down and fall asleep.

After a quick burger at that same fast food place in the central plaza, I hang out on a park bench, struggling to keep myself occupied with activity and people-watching, while desperately trying NOT to fall asleep.

Shortly before 4:30 p.m., I walk down to the train station and do more of the same (trying to stay awake).

Finally, I am on the train. At last I can relax.

Another photo of the inside of my train (taken at 5:07 p.m.).

A self-photo in the train.

I want to fall asleep, but a local man sits next to me and begins to talk … and talk … and talk. Eventually I do start to doze.

But I am soon wide awake when the unexpected entertainment begins. It is too dark outside to see any scenery, but now the sights are inside.

This is one of the attendants for our car. He has dressed up in traditional clothing for one of the annual festivals in Ollantaytambo. He is a lot of fun.

Some music plays, and he grabs several women to dance with him.

Then the other two attendants for our train car begin a fashion show, modeling alpaca clothing that the Peru Rail company is sponsoring.

It is actually a very fun show, and they involve several people from the train, dressing them up and having them strut their stuff. Luckily, I am blocked in by my chatty friend, so they don’t try to pull me out of my seat…

More of the fashion show…

And another outfit…

A closer view of the same sweater/poncho.

One of the passengers, modeling a sweater …

Another passenger, a young boy, modeling a sweater…

The same guy from before, but with a different mask. He keeps the fashion show entertaining …

Our attendants posing when the show is over …

Trip Wrap-up

At shortly before 7:00 p.m., our train pulls into the Ollantaytambo station. The train is pulling four separate passenger cars, and ours is the only one destined for Ollantaytambo.

To my surprise, as we disembark, they actually disconnect our car from the train (we are at the end) and the rest of the train continues on toward Cusco.

I already have a reservation to sleep at the same little hotel where I stayed three nights ago … but they have no record of the reservation.  It is not problem, however, because they do have room available.

After simply eating a few snacks before spending the night in Ollantaytambo, I eat breakfast on Tuesday, June 3, 2014, and then go off in search of a collectivo that will take me to Urubamba. The task proves to be easy. About ninety minutes later, after a transfer in Urubamba, I arrive back in Pisac, well before noon.

It has been an amazing and magical four-and-a-half days. But it has also been exhausting. I have hiked and climbed and hiked and climbed, and am craving some much needed rest.

Feeling happy to be home, I close the door and take a very long and satisfying nap.

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

This post is part one of a two-part posting. It contains 234 photos, including detailed narratives, and covers my travel from Pisac to Machu Picchu, and all of my first day-and-a-half in the Machu Picchu area. The second post will cover my second day in the ruins (hiking Wayna Picchu), plus my journey back to Pisac.

Saturday, after spending the night in Ollantaytambo, I board a train destined for Aguas Calientes, which is a small town located in the valley below Machu Picchu. I spend most of that first day then exploring the Aguas Calientes, including a long hike that takes me around the base of Wayna Picchu.

Early Sunday morning, I catch a 6:00 a.m. bus up to Machu Picchu and spend most of the day exploring and meditating in the ruins and surrounding areas.

Early Monday morning, I catch another bus, and am the first to begin the 7:00 a.m. hike up Wayna Picchu, the famous mountain seen right behind Machu Picchu in most panoramic photos of the ruins. After the hike, I again spend more time in the ruins. Later that evening I take a train back to Ollantaytambo, again spending the night in that small town.

Finally, on Tuesday morning, June 3, 2014, I return from Ollantaytambo to Pisac, again via local transportation.

As usual, the photos in this post are thumbnail images. Please click on any photo to enlarge it. The thumbnails leave much to be desired as far as colors and resolution – plus the thumbnails clip all of the edges. I use thumbnails for the post itself, because it gives people an opportunity to get a summary glimpse without downloading huge amounts of data for the high-res photos.

CLICK ON ANY PHOTO TO ENLARGE TO HIGH RESOLUTION

Pisac To Ollantaytambo

On Friday, May 30, 2014, I leave Pisac in the morning and board an old bus that takes me down the Sacred Valley to the city of Urubamba. Soon, I change into a different transport – a minivan (called a collectivo) that then takes me the rest of the way to Ollantaytambo (pronounced Oh-yawn-tie-TOM-bo).

Ollyantaytambo is a small indigenous town that resides at about 9160 feet above sea level (2792 meters). While the total journey from Pisac to Ollantaytambo is only about 37 miles (59 kilometers), the journey takes a good hour and a half on public transportation. This small town is near the end of the road, and is the last town in the Sacred Valley that is accessible by car. From this point on, the only way to get to Aguas Calientes, and Macchu Pichu, is by train (or hiking the Inca Trail).

Once in this beautiful little town, I locate an economical hotel, search out a small lunch, and then begin to explore. I will be spending the night here.

One of the first places I visit is the train station, which is located by the river, down the hill from the center of town, requiring about a fifteen minute walk past the occasional shop, hotel, or restaurant.

This photo is at the bottom of that road. The green sign in the middle reads “Ollantaytambo Station”. Tomorrow morning I will return here to catch my train.

This photo does not mean anything special. I just found it interesting that there was also a bus station right next to the train station. This is a bus from the company “Cruz Del Sur”. I don’t know it yet, but I will be using this bus line in the near future when I decide to travel to Lake Titicaca.

I already have my tickets, but if I didn’t I would have been able to purchase them here (if there were any left). In the foreground, you can see two local women selling hats, warm clothing, and who knows what else. There are many such vendors here trying to sell anything and everything that one might need when traveling to Machu Picchu.

Standing just up from the train station, looking back toward Ollantaytambo. I love the beautiful mountains.

Because of our proximity to the equator, you don’t really see much snow on mountains around here, unless they are at least 14,000 feet tall (or 4200 meters).

I saw these mountains in the distance, and zoomed in fully to get this photo. I don’t have a map to show me, but these mountains are very tall.

More snow covered mountains in the far distance.

Like most towns in this area, there are Inca ruins nearby. I zoomed in all the way to get this poorly lit image of the local ruins. This is a section near the upper part of the ruins.

This is another similar view. I did not visit these ruins, because Peru has an interesting way of charging. You are not allowed to pay a smaller admission to visit just a single site. Instead, you must buy a ticket that includes admission to a group of ruins. You can spend $50 US to get admission to all the ruins in the Cusco area, but you only have ten days to use it. You can spend about $26 US to get admission to four ruins in the Sacred Valley, but you only have two days to use it. Because of transportation issues, the only way I could make this work is to take an organized bus tour, and I have not yet chosen to do that.

Today, I decide that I do not want to pay the $26 just to visit this one small site.

These ruins are on a different hill, directly above the town. It looks like you may be able to hike up here for free, but I ran out of time and energy.

This is taken from very near to my hotel. This is the lower part of the Ollantaytambo ruins. There are lots and lots of terraces to climb.

A similar photo, taken with a zoom.

One side of the town square (Plaza de Armas) in Ollantaytambo.

Another side of the Plaza de Armas.

Looking down one of the main streets. This is the street that leads from Ollantaytambo back to the highway and Urubamba.

Further down that same street.

Inside my small hotel room. Bobby-bear and Brenda-doll have already chosen their bed.

Later in the afternoon, I took a walk up the canyon. This is one of the tiny and narrow streets in the upper part of town.

Continuing up toward the canyon. This is a cute little town, mostly filled with local indigenous people. But it is also a huge tourist town, in that all of the trains to Machu Picchu pass through here, and many people choose to spend the night here – including those who plan to hike the Inca Trail. The beginning of that famous trek is just a short distance upriver from here.

I took this photo to show how a variety of irrigation ditches run right through the town. This one is quite full of water. I like the little bridge that leads into someone’s home.

Taken from the upper part of town, looking back down toward the ruins (lower left).

A local woman walking up the street.

I do not go far, but once I leave the main part of town, I enjoy this beautiful river.

Soon, after returning to town, I find myself inside the tiny local market.

A Beautiful Train Ride

I am traveling extremely light, with only a small daypack – a simple change of clothes, some water, a camera, several snacks, and my companions (Bobby and Brenda).

Early on Saturday morning, I put everything back into my little daypack and leave my hotel at 7:00 a.m..

After waiting for the restaurant next door to open (advertises a 7:00 a.m. open, but didn’t open till 7:20 a.m.), I gobble down a simple breakfast and walk back down the the train station.

This is my train ticket (purchased in Cusco, nearly a month ago). I am supposed to be in the station by 8:23, and my train leaves at 8:53 a.m.. I have lots of time, and end up having to wait.

Taken next to the train station. Looking straight ahead, the tracks lead toward Cusco.

There are many more vendors trying to sell things right here (two are visible on the left).

Looking in the other direction, toward Aguas Calientes (where I am going).

A sign inside the station. It looks like it is acceptable to abbreviate Ollantaytambo to simply “Ollanta”.

This is not my train. It is one that arrived about twenty minutes earlier.

While this is not my actual car on my train, this is quite similar. There are lots of windows on the “Vistadome” trains, both on the sides and on the top. I paid a little extra so as to have great views during the travel.

This is inside of my train  car, and shows the window layout much more effectively. I had to sit with my back toward the front. I am traveling alone, and was assigned a seat on a single row. Most travelers sit in sections designed for groups, with four people sitting around a table, two on either side.

Be patient, because I take a lot of photos along the way. The journey takes about an hour and a half. It is not very far away, but we travel quite slowly, through a wide variety of scenery. The only thing in common is that the entire journey follows a river.

For the next while, I will not add a lot of narrative. This, and subsequent photos are just more of the scenery as we work our way down the river toward Aguas Calientes.

Those funny color shifts here are there are just reflections on the windows. I am inside a moving train and the angle of the sun (and corresponding reflections) continues to change.

I am not quite sure, but I believe the above is the beginning of the Inca Trail – the famous trek that leads through the mountains into Machu Picchu.

And I believe this zoomed in photo is of a group of trekkers that are just beginning their long several day hike.

Looking forward on my train as we continue our journey.

This is taken with a full zoom – I am told that these are orchids growing on the cliff wall.

Yes, civilization and power lines continue to follow the river as well.

The vegetation is beginning to change as we near Aguas Calientes. The Amazon Jungle is just on the other side of these mountains, and we are getting ever closer (though still over 6690 feet – 2040 meters).

This is a fun picture, with my reflection in the window as i take a photo of the passing scenery. That bright color is my sweater.

As we get closer to Aguas Calientes, we pass this small hydroelectric dam.

And we even pass by another train headed in the opposite direction. (It looks like this one is stopped.)

That is Aguas Calientes in the distance (right in the center of the photo).

Aguas Calientes

According to Wikipedia, Aguas Calientes has about 1600 residents (it seems much bigger than that), and it is at an elevation of 6690 feet (2040 meters). It is about 1300 feet (400 meters) below Machu Picchu, which is up the canyon to the left (in the former photo).

One of the first things I do is find a small economical hotel. This is my bed.

This is the view from my window. Machu Picchu is on top of the mountain that is the low spot in the “V” between these two closer mountains.

Looking down from my bedroom window. If you look closely in the shadows, you can see that this road below me is actually filled with train tracks. The train continues from here on toward a Hydroelectric Plant. One of the cheaper ways to get to Aguas Calientes is to take public transportation to a town called Santa Teresa, then make your way to Hydroelectric (I believe there is another bus) … and then take a very short train from there. (It is also only a several hour walk).

Looking the other direction from my window. You can see the train tracks more easily in the light sections.

Inside the room, looking at my window.

Just a piece of the municipal building of Machupicchu. For whatever reason, all of the external tourist maps etc. refer to this town as “Aguas Calientes” (Hot Waters) … but all the signs in the area refer to it as the city of Machu Picchu.

Looking from the city center toward the direction of Machu Picchu, which is behind that smaller peak in the middle.

Inside a local church.

Hike To The Falls

I had no idea what I was doing, but I saw a tourist map that talked about a waterfall hike. As I take an early afternoon hike exploring the road that leads toward Machu Picchu, I end up deciding to go check out the falls. It is a long hike, one that actually leads around the base of the Wayna Picchu mountain (the famous one in all the pictures of Machu Picchu). I don’t realize it as I walk, or I might have taken more photos of the mountain itself.

This is part of the early road that leads toward Machu Picchu.

More of the same road.

The road follows this river.

A shrine near the turnoff that crosses the river and then winds up the mountain to the actual ruins. I wanted to hike this road, but they wouldn’t let me cross the river without an entrance ticket for today. The road itself zigzags back and forth, around switchbacks that rise a total of about 1300 feet (or 400 meters).

Another sign welcoming people to the town of Machupicchu – even though everyone else calls it Aguas Calientes.

And a sign welcoming people to the ruins themselves.

So instead of hiking up that mountain, I decided to check out the waterfalls. I didn’t know that they were several kilometers away, and that the way to get there is to follow these train tracks. And I didn’t know that the path walked all around the base of Wayna Picchu Mountain. That mountain looks very different from the bottom looking up.

A beautiful view along the way.

It takes about an hour and a half before I reach the actual short trail to the waterfalls. There is a small building there, and they charge 10 soles (about $3.50) to get permission for the hike further up to the falls.

More scenery along the trail.

This is a stream that flows below the falls.

Crossing a wooden footbridge across the stream.

Walking up the small trail. It is a nature trail, with labels on various plants along the way. Near the end, the trail moves into uncut virgin rainforest.

Continuing deeper into the jungle.

Interesting plant growth on the ground.

There are actually two waterfalls. This is the first. It is small, but steep …

… and in a very gorgeous setting.

I stop briefly by a little view area that says “Wayna Picchu Viewpoint” … I take this photo, not sure at the time which mountain was Wayna Picchu. I now realize it is the near one in the foreground, on the left. This is the backside of the mountain, and looks quite different from the view in all the famous photos.

When I climb to the top two days later, I take the long way around (a four hour loop). In that loop, i actually hike about 1300 feet down the back and around this side of the mountain. From that hike, I later look down and see the area where I am now standing. That hike then climbs back up several hundred feet to return to the ruins of Machu Picchu on the other side.

Someone had built this rock spiral along the trail. It is very moist here, so a lot of moss is growing on the rocks.

This is the second waterfall. It is quite powerful, with lots of spray blowing over, even reaching where I am standing.

Another view. I remain here for perhaps twenty minutes before deciding I should head back to Aguas Calientes while the sun is still warm.

On my return trip, as I get close to Aguas Calientes, I take this photo. You cannot see it here, but Aguas Calientes is right at the bottom of the “V”.

In this photo, taken just a little further up the road, you can see some of the buildings at the near end of Aguas Calientes. The mountains here are gorgeous.

And one last similar shot. This one was taken when I was very close to the town.

Machu Picchu Sunrise

Early the next morning, at 5:00 a.m. on Sunday, June 1, 2014, I walk down and get in line to catch a bus to go up to the ruins. The buses cost about $20 US for a round trip. I am shocked by how many people are already lined up in front of me. It looks like at least several hundred people in a line that already stretches a couple hundred feet up the road.

The first buses leave at 5:30 a.m., and they fill them as fast as they can until the line fades. I do not count, I am guessing that at least seven or eight full buses leave in front of me, before I finally get on a bus.

At just before 6:00 a.m., I finally make it through the entrance gates and am hiking up into the ruins. My first stop is on my way to the “Caretakers Hut”. This is the general area from where all of the famous photos are taken. It provides a gorgeous view of the ruins themselves (from above), including the Wayna Picchu mountain behind the ruins.

From this spot, I sit and watched the sunrise, while snapping constant photos, hoping to get some perfect angles. Please forgive me, but I am too lazy to weed out the best ones, so I am including most of the photos that I took. Each looks quite similar, but there are subtle difference with lighting etc, as the sun gradually rises.

With the bright blinding sun glaring over the distant mountains to the east, the near mountain on the lower left is one that can also be climbed. I don’t remember the name. It stands between Machu Picchu and Aguas Calientes, which is up the canyon to the right of that mountain, following the river.

This is on my way up toward the caretakers hut. That mountain in the background is the famous Wayna Picchu. I will climb it tomorrow.

In this photo, I am part of the way up the trail toward the caretakers hut. This is already a gorgeous view of the ruins with Wayna Picchu in the background. At this time, the sunrise has not yet happened.

Similar, with different zoom and lighting. I am still only part of the way to the top.

A self-portrait, still before sunrise.

An alpaca, near the caretakers hut.

Another angle taken from the level of the caretakers hut … still before sunrise.

And another so-so attempt at a self-portrait. If you click on the photo to enlarge, you will see my entire face.

I like this one a little better … to see my face, click on the photo.

Looking to the west, toward the hydroelectric plant (at the bottom of the canyon) … and you can see that the sun has already risen on the distant taller mountains.

Looking down the canyon with the bright glow of pending sun in the sky above. If you look closely you can see a speck of white in the lower center. that white streak is a river (click on the photo for more detail). When I hiked to the waterfalls yesterday, I followed the train tracks along this river, around the base of Wayna Picchu (near mountain on left), and on to the backside of Wayna Picchu.

I’m not fully sure if these are llamas or alpacas, but I believe they are alpacas. There are several of them grazing up by the caretakers hut.

This is the back side of the caretakers hut. It only has three walls.

I leave the caretakers hut and climb a little further up the path to a spot that has even more beautiful vistas. This angle shows most all of the Machu Picchu ruins, only missing a small piece on the eastern (right) side.

The sun is starting to glow extremely brightly over the eastern mountains, but has still not reached the top of Wayna Picchu mountain.

Very similar photo, with slightly different framing and zoom.

A zoomed-in view of the ruins themselves. The huts at the top left are near the entrance to the Wayna Picchu trail that I will hike tomorrow.

The sun has not yet reached Wayna Picchu, but it is beginning to highlight a nearby mountain to the west.

Yes, Bobby-bear and Brenda-doll came with me in my tiny daypack. They were so excited to see the ruins.

And they asked me to take a few shots to make sure we got a good one. I like this one better.

Looking back toward the caretaker’s hut, with the sun trying to break over the eastern mountains. You can see the sunbeams streaking on either side if you enlarge the photo.

Finally, a little of the sun is gracing the top of Wayna Picchu.

The same photo without the strong zoom – showing the sunrise starting to hit Wayna Picchu mountain.

These next photos are mostly the same, with the sunrise gradually progressing a little at a time.

I kept taking photos, hoping one of them would be spectacular.

But photos cannot do justice … especially these thumbnail images. Remember that you can see detailed higher-resolution images of any photo by simply clicking on it.

And finally, the sun is now visible from where I am standing. I do not look directly at it, but the camera does an adequate job (sorry that it is blurry).

The ruins as the sun continues to rise.

Slightly different framing.

You cannot tell from the thumbnail, but this is a vertical (camera turned sideways) shot of the same area. Clicking on the photo gives a much more detailed view.

Lots or similar angles here as the sun now begins to engulf the lower ruins.

Some of the large crowd gathered to watch the sunrise near the caretaker’s hut.

And even more sun.

And a little more zoom.

A vertical shot of the same view.

Just looking for the “perfect shot”.

The caretaker’s hut with the glow of the sun creating special effects.

This one was taken about 20 minutes later, with the full sun now on the ruins. This is one of my favorite photos so far.

And another beautiful one, with a partial view of the upper ruins.

Special sun effects on the eastern side of the ruins.

Looking down the western slope below the ruins. There are lots of terraces here.

I begin hiking down into the ruins. This one is looking back, upward. The caretaker’s hut is that pointy-topped building at the upper center.

A photo taken from this lower angle, down in the ruins themselves.

From further down in the ruins, again looking up toward the caretaker’s hut. That is Machu Picchu Mountain in the background (middle peak). It is another hike that can be taken, but I did not have time or strength.

And one more from an even lower vantage point, looking across the ruins toward Wayna Picchu.

Exploring Machu Picchu

Soon, choosing not to pay for a tour guide, I begin to explore the ruins on my own, occasionally listening to what some tour guides have to say. I almost laugh when I hear one tell people that the ancient Incas used llamas to carry some of these large stones from a quarry that is more than twenty miles away. As I do the math, I can see that the larger stones must weigh many tons, and any one of them would easily crush a group of llamas if put on their backs. And after walking some of the access trails, many are extremely narrow along steep cliffs … No way did llamas carry these stones here.

It is because of things like this that I am not especially interested in paying for a tour. I have deep beliefs that the people who built these temples, and similar structures around the world, were quite advanced in ways not understood by current historians etc…

This is a view from the top, showing what people call “The Temple of the Sun”. People are not allowed to get very close or go into this structure.

A sampling of one of the walls, showing the intricate stonework … and these are not small stones.

A side view of the Temple of the Sun.

Looking vertically down one of the walls at the floor below.

Another similar shot with different lighting. I do not remember why I felt that these photos would be significant.

A little inner cavern sheltered by a HUGE rock.

Taken from a lower part of the ruins, near the center, looking back up the terraces toward the caretaker’s hut in the upper right, with Machu Picchu mountain in the background.

Not having taken a tour, I do not know what this is believed to be. It just looks significant and interesting.

A little area called “espejos de agua” (mirrors of water).

I believe these are structures over on the east side of the ruins.

From the eastern edge of the ruins, looking down at the river below. That is Wayna Picchu mountain in the near foreground (the base of it) … and that is the river I hiked beside as I walked to the waterfalls yesterday.

Some of the walls and pathways on the eastern side, with the beautiful valley below.

The sun is still just barely above the mountains to the east.

This is a photo taken from the lower eastern side of the ruins, looking back toward the western side. That round structure in the lower right of the photo is the “Temple of the Sun” that we saw earlier.

A view on the eastern side, looking toward Wayna Picchu. This shows how low the terraced ruins reach on this side.

One of the huge walls on this side. These appear to have cracks and holes in them. I am sure that I could stick a razor blade in many places.

The sign in the background reads “Casa Del Inka” which means House of the Inca. I am not sure what that roped off area in the middle is about.

A close view of the sign.

Looking down at that same spot from a different angle. I wish I could tell you what the significance of this spot is, but I cannot.

I love this photo. It is taken from the western side of the ruins, looking across the tops of the eastern buildings, with Wayna Picchu in the background.

Headed toward the Temple Zone …

This photo was taken from the top of the “Temple Zone”, looking back toward the caretaker’s hut (which is at the upper center of the photo). That flat area in the near left (at the bottom of the walls) is one of the main temples. Many of the tour guides stop here to give long explanations.

I cannot remember the name of this rock, but it is sometimes referred to as the “Hitching Post of the Sun” … with legends of how the sun was tied down to this post. Sorry, I don’t know any more details, and am not even sure if what I said was accurate.

This is located at the top of the Temple Zone.

A view of Wayna Picchu from the top of the Temple Zone. The trail that I will hike tomorrow begins behind those two huts.

From the same spot, looking down at the hydroelectric plant to the west. If you look closely at the upper right side of the photo, you can see a large man-made structure that appears to be a huge water pipe down which water could flow to turn a turbine ???

As I mentioned earlier, some people, in an effort to save money, make their way via roads to the hydroelectric plant area, and then take a short train ride from there. (The trains are quite expensive. I paid $155 US for my round trip.)

A close view of the huts in front of the trail that leads to the top of the Wayna Pichu Mountain.

I am now standing near those huts, looking back toward the temple zone. You can see the caretaker’s hut in the left center, and that mountain peak is the top of Machu Picchu Mountain.

This “sacred rock” is near the huts from the previous photo …

And this is the sacred rock itself. I have no idea what the story is behind this rock.

This is the entrance gate to the “Wayna Picchu Trail”. I will be sitting right by this entrance gate before 6:30 a.m. tomorrow morning.

Another view of Wayna Picchu with the entrance gate in the foreground.

You can barely see the tops of some of the ruins as you look through the trees at the distant mountains.

People standing around near the sacred rock. I get the impression that they are some of the hikers preparing to hike in the 10:00 a.m. group (since this photo was taken at 10:03 a.m.). There are a total of 400 people that are allowed to hike this trail every day. The first 200 people can begin between 7:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m., with the second 200 people beginning between 10:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m.. I will be in the first group tomorrow … and in fact, I will be the very first person out of that 200.

After leaving the area with the huts, I returned to the caretaker hut area, looking for shade and a spot to meditate.

You can see the caretaker hut sticking up from the ruins in front of the peak of Machu Picchu Mountain.

I couldn’t find this earlier, even though I walked right through it. It is called the “main gate” to the city. It is believed that this was the gate used to enter the actual city of Machu Picchu.

Another view of the same gate, taken from the other side looking down.

The Inca Bridge Trail

As I reach the level of the caretaker’s hut, I decide to take more photos with different lighting. It is now just a while after 10:00 a.m., so the sun is much higher in the sky. Soon, I decide to follow another trail to the “Inca Bridge”.

A view with mid-morning sun.

And another.

And another. I love this one. It shows pretty much everything, with beautiful lighting.

Similar, with different framing.

This one is taken from even higher up on the mountain. After my hike, I ended up sitting in these trees (in the foreground of the photo), meditating for an hour or more, enjoying the beautiful view from the shade.

Looking toward the hydroelectric plant in the west. It is much more visible from here.

Looking down from the Inca Bridge trail toward the river below. The place where I hiked to the waterfalls (yesterday) would be just to the right of where the rivers appears from behind Wayna Picchu Mountain.

Looking back along the trail. You need to click and expand this photo to see the trail itself. It is narrow, but well maintained. There are places along this trail where the cliff below is quite steep.

This is one of those places. It is a vertical drop on the right side.

This is another vertical drop spot. As I understand it, this is an original trail (maintained of course) that was used by the Incas to access Machu Picchu.

At the end of the trail (at least as far as tourists can go) is the actual “Inca Bridge”. If you expand this photo, you can see it much better. The actual bridge is in that area just above the tree line. It is a very treacherous trail that leads across the base of a huge cliff.

This is a close zoomed view of the middle piece of that bridge. Apparently, this used to be open, but a tourist fell off the bridge and was killed. That is when they closed it.

You can hike down closer, to the very beginning of the bridge. I did just that.

This is as far as tourists can go. The trail is blocked here. If you look closely, you can see how narrow this ledge is … and how dangerous it could be.

I can only imagine llamas walking along this trail, bringing huge multiple-ton stones from twenty-plus miles away …

A nearby sign for the trail, reading “Puente Inka” or “Inka Bridge”.

I take a few more photos as start to return. It is not a trail for the faint of heart. In places, the trail can be intimidating.

As far as I can tell, the trail would have continued on along this cliff.

After hiking back for a while, Wayna Picchu comes back into view.

I have now settled into my favorite spot, beginning to meditate in the shade of a tree, with a gorgeous view below me.

Back To Machu Picchu

I remain meditating in the above spot from about 11:20 a.m. till around 12:30 p.m., loving the energy and the view. Finally, I return to the ruins themselves.

First, Bobby and Brenda beg me for more photos.

They love this place.

Another view of the caretaker’s hut.

I believe these are llamas, with Wayna Picchu in the background.

I love this view of the eastern side of the ruins. I think that is an alpaca in the foreground.

Another slightly different view

The two huts by the Wayna Picchu trail entrance, taken with a full zoom.

A curious alpaca.

Finding more shade down in the ruins, I sit and meditated for a while longer. This is a poor attempt at a self-portrait. I wear this hat for most of the day, because the sun here (at this altitude) is very bright and hot, and I do not want to have to wear sunscreen.

This is the view from where I meditated for another hour or so.

And the little alpaca keeps visiting me from a slight distance. After a while he begins to make vocal sounds. I am shocked by the high pitched squeal that he makes, almost like a baby crying.

I love this photo. I am beginning to wonder if perhaps this might be a llama. One way to tell them apart is that llamas have more “banana-shaped ears” and alpacas have straight ears.

And another fun photo.

This one has the caretaker’s hut and the summit of Machu Picchu Mountain in the background.

The lighting on this one (if you expand it) came out quite beautifully. This is the little hill in the “Temple Zone”. That “hitching post of the sun” is up there.

Another one with beautiful lighting and contrast (if you expand it). As usual, that is Wayna Picchu on the left.

Playing around with foregrounds.

I somehow missed this earlier. It is from a natural spring, right in the middle of the ruins.

On the eastern side, looking down at that beautiful monolith-like mountain between Machu Picchu and Aguas Calientes (which is down the river just to the right of that tall skinny mountain).

Can’t quite remember what this is. I think it is the upper part of the little spring. You can see lots of water if you look closely, coming down the wall in the back, and then running down a small channel in the right foreground.

Another view looking down over the eastern side of the ruins at the valley and mountains below.

And one final view from my first day in Machu Picchu, This one is looking back at the eastern side and Wayna Picchu as I walk back toward the entrance gates …

Back To Aguas Calientes

Shortly after that last photo was taken (around 2:30 p.m.) I return to the entrance gate and line up to catch a return bus. Soon I am zigzagging back down the mountain, returning to Aguas Calientes about a half hour later. This next group of photos is from some additional explorations of the town itself.

This is the street in front of my hotel. My room is up above the train.

Looking the other way down the same street.

This is the sign of my hotel (in blue) just above the train car. My hotel is “Hostal Caminantes” which translates roughly as Hostel of the trekkers or walkers.

This is a photo of the edge of Aguas Calientes, near the river (just beyond the trees on the left). This road is the one that leads toward Machu Picchu.

In fact, in the bright area, just above the “V”, is Machu Picchu. All you can see from here is mountains, but the ruins are up there.

Another similar photo.

This is the same camera angle, just zoomed in all the way. The buses zigzag up the side of that mountain and drop you off on the top.

This is taken in the town square of Aguas Calientes. This Inca Statue draws a lot of attention. I sat here for hours on end, a couple of times, watching tourists stream by. Almost everyone stops to get a photo around this sign.

And another of the same place, with slightly better lighting.

I eat here several times. The food in Aguas Calientes is quite expensive. On my first day I ate at a tiny restaurant that advertised an inexpensive meal. But then, they tacked on an exorbitant mandatory tip and charged me about four times the going rate for a small bottle of water. Rather than deal with such tactics again, I just keep coming back here for a simple burger.

Some of the buildings around the central plaza.

Taking a photo of myself in a mirror at the burger restaurant.

And one last photo of the statue in the middle.

While standing in the plaza, I take this photo (with full zoom) of a nearby cliff. Those are orchids growing on the side of the cliff.

And a similar photo …

The same photo, but without any zoom. The cliff is that one right in the middle.

Some school children playing in the central plaza.

And this is my final photo of the day.

It has been a magical and beautiful day, but I am very tired. The sun is now behind the mountains, it is getting cold, and I go to bed as soon as it gets dark (shortly after 6:00 p.m.).

This is the end of my first Machu Picchu photo post. Very soon, I will publish part two, which will include 116 additional photos, covering my second full day in the ruins, with most of the emphasis being on my hike up Wayna Picchu. The final photos will then cover my train trip back to Ollantaytambo later that evening.

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

My sniffling cat allergies seem to worsen with every night of sleep. I love the little kitties, but caring for them is making me quite miserable. My symptoms do seem to relax during the day, but the sneezing at night is becoming intense.

As usual, when I wake up and shower on Sunday morning, May 18, 2014, my sinuses do mostly clear.

I am beginning to wonder if I can remain in Dan’s house much longer. But in this moment, I don’t have time to give it much thought. Instead, at 7:30 a.m., I quickly step outside, give the cats some food and water, and begin the forty minute walk to Paul Temple’s beautiful home.

Today, I will be participating in my second huachuma (San Pedro) ceremony. I am deeply curious to discover what is next – and wondering if another episode of “freezing cold” might be in my near future.

A Freezing Start

We get a slow start on the ceremony, not drinking the slimy green liquid until shortly before 10:00 a.m.. For me, the effects begin quickly, and I am in a deep journey less than an hour later.

And yes, I am again feeling deeply frozen on the inside. The difference is that, today, I fully understand that seeking out a fire or any other external heat source will simply do no good – and that instead, this freezing cold is an inner energetic metaphor.

Somehow, I get the idea that my job today is to simply ignore and tolerate the cold, doing so with a positive attitude – all the while hoping to receive further guidance that will help me move through it.

As before, when I place my fingertips in the grass, my journey in connecting to the Mother Earth energies deepens considerably, taking me into time-warping journeys.

At one point, the skies begin to lightly drizzle. This is unusual for this time of year. Rainy season ended several weeks ago. Choosing to get out of the falling moisture, I go inside and sit by the fire, fully knowing that it will not make me warm.

Trying To Ignore

Paul soon comes in to check on me.

“I am still freezing inside,” I give Paul a status report, “but I am just ignoring it and trying to remain focused.”

“Whoa,” Paul exclaims with surprise. “I didn’t tell you to ignore the cold. I told you to go INTO it.”

“Wow,” I ponder. “I have been trying to ‘be strong’ in spite of the cold … trying to ignore the uncomfortable things inside me … just as I have done my whole life.”

Freezing To Death

I immediately start meditating, imagining myself stepping into the freezing cold. Soon, I feel as if I have literally stepped into a subzero room that is filled with dry-ice vapor. I feel chilled to the bone and can eerily sense that cold vapor blowing into my cheeks.

As I sit humbly in this meditative space, I see faint visuals accompanied by strong intuition – visuals of tiny and precious living bundles. Inside the wrapped-up bundles are either kittens or human babies. I am not quite sure.

“These precious lives are near death,” the intuitions whisper. “You have abandoned them in the cold outer reaches, in the utter absence of loving energies.”

While visualizing myself exploring these frozen regions of my energy, I literally feel strong physical sensations of being outside in subzero temperatures, with my breath forming ice crystals as I exhale.

“These are parts of me that I have pushed out during my lifetime,” I ponder with clarity.

As I continue, I feel these dying parts everywhere. All of them are freezing. I have ignored them, rejected them, hated them, and abandoned them into the void of no life-giving energy. They are essentially and quite literally freezing to death.

A Walled-Off Freezer

Quickly, with a sense of urgency, I imagine myself running all over my subconscious reality, searching for and finding these parts of me. I hold them and love them, inviting them to join me in the warmth of my heart.

Soon, intuitions take me into realizing that these are not just rejected parts of me. These are also other people and beings on the planet whom I have judged as not being worthy of my time or attention. I have given them the “cold shoulder” and they are starving for warm love – love that I have withheld

“No part left behind,” I begin to repeat over and over in my mind, as I focus on finding anything and everything in my life that I might have rejected with coldness.

Eventually, the metaphor shifts slightly, and I begin to see the cold as being inside my own heart – seeing my heart as a walled-off freezer, with the walls being there to keep other peoples’ love outside of me.

I quickly shift focus to sending loving warmth to my own heart, intending with my personal will that my own protective walls to begin to melt.

Genuine Radiating Warmth

Tears stream down my cheeks throughout most of this meditation. I feel deep sadness and compassion for the parts of me that have been so rejected, and so walled off from receiving true Divine Love.

The emotions are intense, and I make no effort to restrict their expression.

Soon, with all of this meditative love beginning to flow through me, I start to feel warmer. A few minutes later I remove my coat. And then I eventually unzip and take off my sweatshirt, leaving me with only two shirts and a sweater. (Yes, I was really bundled up with multiple layers.)

The “chill-to-the-bones” has subsided, and I finally feel genuine warmth radiating from within my heart.

When I notice that the skies have cleared and that the sun is again shining outside, I return to the outdoors. I want to get away from the fireplace and instead, to connect with my real inner heat source – the same source that was radiating so strongly on Friday evening and early Saturday morning.

Flowing Natural Currents

As I sit on the grass, observing the gorgeous mountain scenery that literally surrounds me, I watch countless birds soaring above me, drifting effortlessly in the natural wind currents. Intuitions soon begin to flow.

“I don’t need to DO this with my own effort,” I begin to ponder. “This journey is being done for me, through natural currents that are warming and thawing that deepfreeze in my heart with perfect timing.”

“I do not need to understand or figure anything out,” the guidance continues. “It is all being guided from above, gently and magically. I really do simply need to surrender and allow the Higher Flow to carry me. The mind is simply not the tool for this job.”

A few minutes later, Paul comes to check on me. When I express my ongoing progress and insights, he profoundly congratulates me on my intuitions, telling me that many people just have to suffer with the “physical freeze”, because they are unable to do what I am presently doing.

I remain outside for a long time, magically enjoying the energy of the beautiful living mountain directly across the valley. It is capped by a cluster of brilliantly glowing clouds that reflect the bright afternoon sun. But the sun is short-lived where I am sitting. It has already disappeared behind the mountains on this side of the valley.

I can tell from the touch of my fingertips that the cold I now feel on the grass is quite real – and not just an energetic metaphor.

Even so, I smile because my heart is warm.

Advancing Allergies

Eventually, as dark approaches, I go inside to join others from my group. I am starving. Paul eventually brings out yummy soup and buttered bread. Soon, my tummy is satisfied and content.

I sit in peaceful silence through most of the evening. At around 8:30 p.m., I pack up my belongings and being the 40 minute walk toward home. Shortly after 9:10 p.m., I feed the kitties and quickly go to bed.

But I cannot sleep much. The energies flowing through me remain quite active.

My allergies are insanely strong. I decide that it is time to start taking some allergy and sinus medications – but it is too late to do much good. The physical symptoms have worsened to the point of giving me a very agitated soreness in my throat – mostly from the constant, nightly post-nasal drip.

Sleep is increasingly more difficult, as my sinuses and lungs begin to fill with mucus.

I realize that taking medicines is essentially “fixing” at this point, but the symptoms are so intense that I can no longer simply ignore and tolerate them. Inner guidance says that the medicines are OK, and that my process with continue with, or without them.

An Exhausting Day

On Monday morning, feeling very tired, it is all I can do to shower, feed the kitties, and walk into town to eat some food. While at the restaurant, I bump into my friend from the hostel, and enjoy a long conversation as we catch each other up regarding our respective journeys.

I spend the afternoon just trying to rest and be gentle with myself. I am so exhausted that I cannot find the motivation to even sit at my computer to type up some notes for a future blog.

And when I later cook and begin to eat a plate of rice and beans, I can barely eat half of them.

A Long, Difficult Night

At shortly after 6:00 p.m., I decide to go to bed. But as I try to rest, I feel guided to sit up and meditate. I have been trying to ignore all these symptoms, and I realize it is time to meditate into them, just as I did with the freezing cold.

As I sit meditating in bed, I soon reach that same state of magical, radiating warmth – a warmth that originates from within. By 7:15 p.m., I am so warm and toasty that I have stripped off several layers of clothing, including my coat and sweatshirt.

Finally, I attempt to sleep, but am unable to relax. It is a long night filled with extreme energy pulsing. I continue to radiate inner warmth, but simply cannot reach a relaxed state. Often, I notice that my breath is rapid and nervous.

And the physical symptoms have become intensely miserable – extremely congested mucus and sore throat. My ears are so plugged and swollen that I can hardly hear, and a loud ringing sound dominates my awareness.

The hours tick by slowly. I recognize clearly that the energy of huachuma continues to work with me in an intense way. In fact, it feels as if I am literally back in a deep huachuma journey that lasts all night long. I am in and out of such journeying, often reaching near-lucid-dreaming states – but I am not asleep.

Even through all the difficulty, I sense the presence of other dimensional support all around me – and even feel as if those who were with me in the ceremony yesterday are still right here supporting me.

But at another level, I understand that this is my own personal and unique journey.

I make frequent bathroom trips, all night long – accompanied by the feeling that the energies are releasing physical toxins that need to be flushed.

And at one point, in the midst of frequent coughing (mucus in lungs), I even feel considerable nausea – enough so that I unsuccessfully attempt to vomit it out on several occasions.

Continuing Deeper

Several times when I begin to feel cold again, I allow myself to journey into the misery and suffering.

Strong intuitions repeatedly tell me that miserable and suffering parts of me remain stored and hidden away in that freezing environment. It seems that I have continued to try to be strong, still ignoring those parts. These hidden energies need me to feel them; they need me to acknowledge their existence with love.

It takes a while to get to the emotional places, but eventually I am sobbing and dry heaving, engaged in deep and intense emotional release. At one point I ask for light and love to help me and the layer fades. Then, a while later, I surrender to another layer of the misery and repeat the release/transmutation process. With each layer released, I feel a little more relaxed and energized.

Finally, at around 6:00 a.m., I open my eyes. I have been awake all night long, not getting any actual sleep. But I did find a great deal of relaxation and rest.

That intense energy had never stopped, lasting all night long.

Allergy Explosions

On Tuesday morning (May 20, 2014), I get out of bed at around 7:45 a.m., with my ears congested and screaming with loud tinnitus. After feeding the kitties, taking more medications, and going online to pay an almost-overdue bill, I finally force myself to sit at my computer to type up some notes for the last two days.

But as soon as I am done, I return to bed. I am shocked that I am still processing in the intense energies from the Sunday huachuma ceremony. I think I manage to get a little sleep at various points of the morning, but for the most part, I continue to journey.

Finally, feeling tired and weak, I drag myself out of bed and go into town for a burger, hoping that the meat will again help me to ground. Afterward, I spend most of the day resting and/or sleeping.

As darkness arrives, I pass through another deep meditative journey with the freezing cold – a journey that finally takes me into beautiful relaxed energy.

But at 1:00 a.m., I wake up with the worst allergy and mucus symptoms ever. I feel as if my head is going to explode. At the same time my ears are screaming with high volume, high-pitched tones. The symptoms just continue to intensify.

A Week Of Recovery

Feeling lost and desperate, I surrender to the fact that I can no longer live in this house.

As soon as I can on Wednesday morning, I pack up some of my belongings and move back to the same hostel where I lived before moving into the house. As soon as I get there, I crawl into bed and sleep for most of the day, coughing and sneezing through all of it.

Thursday is quite similar. I just do my best to rest. I am weak, tired, exhausted, and trying to recover. Meanwhile, I am beginning to feel quite frustrated with the internet, and the owner of the hostel will not allow me to fix it myself (a simple matter of resetting the power on the modem).

On Friday, still feeling miserable, I decide to pack my bag when the internet is again down with no hope of it returning for hours to come. I move to a different hostel on the other side of town and then manage to find the strength to take some long walks in search of other living possibilities. I find one place that seems quite nice. It is a room in a shared house. I will have my own private entrance, but will have to share the bathrooms and kitchen with others. It is only about $240 US per month. I like it so much that I decide to move in tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I continue to take care of the kittles, going to Dan’s house twice every day to feed and check on them. But I minimize my time there as much as possible. Every time I step through that door, my symptoms seem to slightly worsen.

Rushing And Freezing

After finding a new place to live, I go to bed in my new (temporary) hostel and end up sleeping most of the day.

Later that evening, I giggle with excitement when my friend Sufi finally arrives in Pisac. I take her to Dan’s house where she wants to take over my house-sitting duties. After spending one night in the house, sniffling and sneezing all night long, she begins to exhibit the same allergy and head-cold symptoms that continue to overwhelm me. She too decides that she cannot live in that house.

On Saturday morning, the two of us move in to separate rooms at the place I found yesterday. It is called “La Chankana”, and is small shared-community house with seven separate bedrooms.

As soon as our belongings are moved, Sufi and I catch a bus and head to Cusco together, hoping to do some shopping and errands. It is an extremely long day, given that I am already profoundly exhausted and physically drained from a difficult week. We do not return to Pisac until nearly 7:00 p.m..

I love my new room, and crawl into bed almost immediately. But again, I struggle with freezing inner cold, and rather than sleep, I meditate until after midnight. It is a good meditation – one that eventually leads to some energetic opening on the right side of my face and sinuses, greatly relieving some of my physical symptoms as well.

By midnight the energy is flowing beautifully, even though I continue to deal with considerable physical discomfort.

Necessary Cleansing

On Sunday, I finally muster up the strength to move the remainder of my personal belongings from Dan’s house to my newly rented room. I continue to feed the kitties twice per day, but it is becoming an unwelcome burden.

Meanwhile, I struggle with a few old inner patterns. Sufi wants to spend more time hanging out together, perhaps even doing a cacao ceremony. The only thing I want to do is to isolate and rest. I simply have no energy with which to socialize. I compromise and spend a half day hanging out with her and Rocio. But all I really want right now is some alone time to recover.

I am beginning to feel better than I have in more than a week, but my sinuses and lungs remain extremely congested. Nevertheless, I feel hopeful for a speedy recovery, and trust that all of this is happening for an important reason … and that my body is taking care of necessary cleansing at both a physical and an emotional level.

Another Ayahuasca Ceremony

On Monday, I spend the majority of the day engaged in a combination of resting, meditating, and writing.

I am not sure if I am up to it, but Sufi and I have decided to do a private ayahuasca ceremony with a woman named Marina. She frequently leads small ceremonies here in Pisac, and has extensive training in the Shipibo traditions.

Part of me does not want to participate in any ceremonies while I still feel the way I do, but another stronger part believes that a ceremony will help me to clear out the energy that is behind this physical yuck. I will be going to Machu Picchu later this week, and I really want to do everything I can to move through and beyond the allergy-triggered symptoms.

I strongly believe that everything has an energetic basis, and that maybe, just maybe, the ceremony will help me to address these energetic issues in a timely way.

An Early Purge

Sufi and I arrive quite early, giving us time to rest and visit before the ceremony. We finally sit with Marina at around 7:00 p.m., and begin the ceremony about a half hour later.

The ayahuasca is quite thick and syrup-like. It does not have a repulsive taste, but is hard to swallow because of its concentrated thickness.

As Marina begins to sing, I absolutely love her icaros. She is singing genuine authentic Shipibo icaros, and they are more beautiful than any I have ever heard from the Shipibo women themselves. She also throws in a few other songs from various traditions, including some instrumental music.

I feel the effects strongly, and by 8:00 p.m. I vomit out a great deal of putrid energy. It feels wonderful to get it out of me, even though I receive no direct intuitions as to exactly what it is that I release.

A Head Dilemma

But by around 9:00 p.m., still very early in the ceremony, my medicine fades considerably, leaving me mostly back in my head. I finally speak up and explain that I would love a tiny bit more medicine to help strengthen my journey.

I am shocked when Marina tells me “No”. I try to accept her answer and finally reach the resolve that I will spend the rest of the evening in very weak energy – and I DO make the most of it, focusing on meditating into the head chatter that constantly surfaces.

The head chatter relates mostly to the fact that I was not allowed to drink more, and to the fact that shortly after 9:15 p.m., Marina stops singing completely. We are in total silence for several hours, giving my mind ample opportunity to pick at things.

I see it all as being perfect, and as also being what Sufi wanted – but for me, having had considerable experience with Shipibo ceremonies, I crave and hope for more icaros. They have such a catalyst effect in my process.

For whatever reason, however, I do not speak up and make my request known. I sit in the weak energy, meditating, meditating, and meditating.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the ceremony. But my head chatter wants to find fault and judge. In the end, it is all perfect.

Early Tuesday morning, I finally excuse myself from the silence. I love the quiet, peaceful, and magical starlight as I slowly walk back down the hill toward my own comfy bed.

Hiding In A Hole

Tuesday, as I later discuss the ceremony with Sufi, I experience my own weird emotional reactions to her excited and bubbly descriptions of how perfect the ceremony had been for her. I won’t go into details, but the whole conversation leaves me stuck in ego judgments, and her words repeatedly trigger deeply buried emotions that surprise and baffle me.

In my “stuck lost-ness”, I excuse myself and head into Pisac in search of pancakes. I have to get away. The emotions are making me vulnerable and raw.

Soon, I am gobbling down another burger. The pancake quest had been unsuccessful.

After returning to my room, I isolate and rest for the remainder of the day. I am gentle with myself, not judging myself for wanting to dig a hole and crawl in.

Eminent Recovery

Wednesday morning, May 28, 2014, I am beginning to feel better, both physically and emotionally. After getting up early, showering, and gobbling down some chocolate oatmeal, I find the inspiration and energy to write and publish “Part 3” of my ayahuasca healing adventure blog series.

The highlight of the day is when I finally get in touch with Dan’s landlord, and she agrees to take over the task of feeding the kitties for me. At last, I am completely free of that house.

When the day is done, I am extremely tired, and go to bed quite early, hoping to continue rebuilding my strength.

Thursday, after spending a few hours hanging out in Pisac with Sufi, I return home and again spend the remainder of the day simply resting. Tomorrow I leave on my adventure to Machu Picchu, and I want to be as rested as possible.

Machu Picchu Or Bust

Early Friday morning (May 30, 2014), with nothing more than the clothes on my back and a small daypack filled with snacks, water, camera, a change of clothes, and my companions (Bobby-bear and Brenda-doll), I set off on my next adventure.

At just after 8:00 a.m., I walk into Pisac, catch a collectivo (collective minivan) that is headed to Urubamba, and begin my travels. A little over an hour later, I switch to another collectivo, and continue on to Ollantaytambo.

By early afternoon, I have checked in at a small hostel, gobbled down a small lunch, and begun to explore this small town near the other end of the Sacred Valley. From here, the only way to Aguas Calientes (and Machu Piccho) is via train. Early tomorrow morning, I will catch that train, spending two and a half days in the Machu Picchu area.

(I will fully document my adventures in Machu Picchu sometime in the next few days, doing so via a photo post, containing detailed narratives.)

On Tuesday morning, June 3, 2014, after a roundtrip adventure and another night in Ollantaytambo, I begin my return collectivo journey back to Pisac, arriving just before noon.

A Solo Ceremony

On Wednesday, I return to writing, spending the entire day in deep integration and editing before finally publishing “Part 4” of my series from my deep immersion retreat in Iquitos.

Late Thursday morning, Sufi and I try something that neither of us has ever done. We have decided to drink ayahuasca together, in a daytime setting, near a river, just up the canyon from where we are living. It will be a new adventure for both of us.

(Again, I want to emphasize that it is not advisable to drink ayahuasca in such unsupervised settings. Do not do it if you do not have considerable experience and training in working with energies in such situations.)

We both understand the reasons to be cautious, but we trust each other’s ability to be able to help if any difficult circumstances arise.

We soon find the perfect spot, set up our space, and take turns drinking what we believe to be a full dose of the medicine that we have with us. I end up drinking a small second dose about an hour later.

Frozen Masculine Energy

As I lay in the sun with a hat over my face, I begin to feel as if a weird, creepy masculine energy is trying to sexually take advantage of me, arousing my physical senses, and trying to distract and potentially molest me in energetic ways.

I strongly resist this energy for much of the first hour. I feel as if it is something ugly and dangerous, something outside of my self, something that might hurt me in some yet-unknown way.

Gradually, after intensely focusing on conscious resistance, I begin to get the intuitive understanding that the emotion and energy I am feeling is my own “hatred toward distorted and sexual-based masculine energy”. I feel deeply resentful toward, and even victimized by such energy.

What I am feeling is not an outside energy – it is an energy already within me – an energy that needs to be felt and processed with healing love. The more I explore with guidance and intuition, I realize that this is actually deep self-hatred – an intense form of self-loathing that originated during my earlier years of being disgusted with my own masculine energy. It comes from countless years of sexual struggles related to my own masculinity and gender confusion. I hated those parts of me, and continue to feel repulsed by them to this day. It only makes sense that I still project this inner struggle onto an outer world.

“Wow,” I ponder with delight. “This is more of that ‘pushed-out-stuff’ that I have forced into the deepfreeze, refusing to give it loving energy – refusing to allow it into my heart.”

Feeling The Hate, Finding The Love

Almost immediately, I focus on sending love to this long-rejected part of me.

Eventually, I realize that my efforts are falling short, because I am trying to do this on a mental level. I am not FEELING the self-hatred, I am simply thinking about it.

Suddenly, as I attempt to feel, I begin to experience intense nausea. And soon thereafter, I am physically vomiting out the energies that have surfaced. Intuitions clearly tell me that I am purging much of the hatred – doing so in a way that does not require me to feel every last drop of it.

Once the release is complete, I spend the remainder of this short afternoon focusing on magical mantras of self-love. My energy has totally shifted, and joy consumes me.

At around 3:30 p.m., with the sun having disappeared behind a mountain, it begins to get chili. Sufi and I soon discuss our feelings and decide to walk back down the river, returning to our own respective rooms to finish our journeys.

At around 7:00 p.m., Sufi knocks on my door and I invite her in for a joint integration session, sharing our experiences with each other. My own journey was quite profound, bringing up unexpected issues in a very unique way.

I am not sure I ever want to do another ceremony in the daytime, but this one was definitely productive.

Lake Titicaca Or Bust

Early on Friday morning, I finally get serious and make plans for my trip to Lake Titicaca and to Bolivia. My passport stamps will expire in a few days, and it is time to put my fate in the hands of the Universe, making a border run to find out just how much more time I might be given when I return to Peru. After a tiny bit of research, I purchase tickets for a night bus that will leave Cusco at 10:00 p.m. on Sunday evening, arriving in Puno (on the Peru side of Lake Titicaca) at 4:30 a.m. on Monday morning.

Once the plans are made, I feel a strong inner peace about the future, and instead turn to more writing. Later that same day, I manage to publish “Part 5” of my ongoing series. I do not actually finish the editing and publish that post until Saturday morning. Then, I spend the rest of Saturday writing and editing “Part 6”, but do not publish that until early Sunday morning. I feel quite excited by the progress that I am now making in my writing. It feels good to be chipping away at that daunting writing task.

After publishing that blog on Sunday morning, I quickly pack up my carryon suitcase and my daypack, deciding not to travel quite so lightly on this trip. By late morning I catch a collectivo to Cusco and find myself in the middle of an early “Inti Raymi” parade that has brought huge crowds to the Plaza De Armas.

After spending a long day hanging out and visiting with new friends in this section of Cusco, I head to the bus station shortly after dark, and spend another four hours sitting in the waiting area. I soon realize that I could easily have left Pisac in the afternoon, saving myself a lot of “homeless feelings”.

At 10:00 p.m., I recline in my comfy seat as the bus pulls away from the station. I am on an open-ended journey. Other than purchasing this ticket, I have made no plans, done very little research, and have no idea what I will do, where I will go, or how long I will be in the Lake Titicaca region. The only thing I know for sure is that I need to cross into Bolivia by June 10, 2014, and that I want to be back in Pisac before June 20, 2014.

The rest is up in the air.

I end up spending a total of eight days in these travels, with three-and-a-half beautiful days on the Bolivia side, and just over three days on the Peru side.

(I will not go into more detail in this writing. Instead, just as I plan to do with the Machu Picchu trip, I will fully document the Lake Titicaca trip, with detailed narratives, doing so in several future photo posts – posts that will follow very soon.)

A Magical Border Crossing

But before moving on, I do want to talk about my border crossing experience as I returned to Peru on Thursday, June 12, 2014.

I have heard from several people that it is getting considerably more difficult to get permission to stay longer than six months in any given year. Some border guards are making it quite difficult to stay for longer periods.

As I leave Bolivia and prepare to walk into the office on the Peruvian side of the border, I first pause, close my eyes, and briefly meditate into a nice energy. Then, as I stand in front of the Peruvian border guard. I tell him I would love to have another six months in Peru. I smile a huge smile and point out that I am a writer, and that I am writing about my experiences in Peru.

“I need more time to finish my writing,” I tell the guard with a confident smile.

“You have already been in the country for a long time,” he tells me with a semi-serious tone, while glancing back and forth between me and my passport.

“How about 150 days?” he then asks me after a short pause.

“That would be great,” I reply with a huge smile.

Soon, I walk out of the border crossing with five more months on my tourist visa. I feel quite content, knowing that my options have been magically opened up. If I want to do so, I can stay in Peru until at least mid November.

A Magical Manifestation

Early Sunday morning, June 15, 2014, while checking the internet from my hotel room in Puno (northwest side of Lake Titicaca on the Peruvian side), I notice on the “Sacred Valley Housing And Market” Facebook page that a man from the town of Calca has decided to leave Peru in a couple of weeks, and he needs to find someone to rent his home. He still has FIVE months on his lease contract, and is looking for someone to take over his lease.

I find the “five months” part of this message to be fascinating and quite synchronous, but I don’t give it much thought. In just a few minutes I will be leaving the hotel and catching a bus that will take me back to Cusco. There is simply not time to do anything right now.

Later Sunday night, while resting back in my room in Pisac, I again take a look at that message on Facebook. I am tired and want to wait until tomorrow, but something tells me to start taking action now – that I need to check this place out.

Before long, I am talking to “Neil” on the phone, discussing the house and asking questions. He already has a friend that is quite interested, but I am number two on the interest list. I will meet him in Calca tomorrow at noon to see if I like the place … and if his friend does not want it, then I can have it.

Calca is a small indigenous town in the Sacred Valley. It is about 25 minutes away from Pisac (when on a public collectivo – costing less than a dollar each way). Other than that, I know almost nothing about it.

A Sticky Problem

I get up early on Monday, June 16, 2014, and spend considerable time meditating about my options. In my heart, I feel extremely positive about the whole situation.

At around 9:30 a.m., I begin the short journey by walking to Pisac and waiting for a bus to pass by. I arrive in Calca with plenty of time to spare. I can only giggle a while later as I sit in the beautiful town square, gobbling down a piece of bread while meditating and people watching.

As I briefly shift positions on the bench, I feel something sticky below me. Then I realize that I have been watching several women, over on the other side of the fountain. They have been methodically painting the park benches. Suddenly, I realize that the bench on which I am now sitting is very white – and that it has been freshly painted. I jump up and try to look at my backside, but simply cannot see much.

Confidently knowing that I am wearing yoga pants under my slacks, I remove the outer layer of clothing and discover a bunch of white streaks from fresh paint. I giggle inside as I realize what has happened. I am fully prepared to simply give up on those painted slacks.

But then I get an idea. I walk over to one of the female painters, show her my pants, and ask if she has anything that might help remove the paint. She quickly retrieves a large bottle of what seems like paint thinner. Over the next half hour, the two of us work together. She frequently soaks the area by pouring more chemical over my pants. I then scrub and scrub with a bunch of toilet paper that I had in my pocket. (In this part of the world, that is a wise thing to carry LOL.)

Soon, after much effort, most of the paint is gone, and what remains does not show when the slacks are dry. Problem solved.

The House Is Mine

Soon, I begin walking out to Neil’s house just before our scheduled meeting time. I have been manifesting all morning that his friend will not want the house – that it is totally mine. Peaceful heart energy tells me that this is so.

When I arrive, I apologize for arriving early, and Neil tells me that his friend arrived late, and that he is still here. The two of us explore the house, considering our options, doing so separately, but constantly crossing paths.

Finally, thirty minutes later, I ask the friend if he is going to want to rent the house.

“I don’t think so,” he tells me.

To make a long story short, I tell Neil that I probably want it, but need a little time to think. He tells me that I have until tomorrow morning to let him know.

After hanging around for another hour, repeatedly checking things out, I thank Neil, tell him that I will let him know, and begin my return journey to Pisac.

Later Monday evening, as I again meditate, it suddenly occurs to me that my heart already knows that I am taking that house, and that it is only my head that wants time to consider all possibilities. Within minutes, I pick up the phone, call Neil, and tell him that I will rent the house.

Two days later, after two trips to meet with the landlord, I have signed my own five month lease. Neil will remain in the house until July 5, 2014, at which time I will take possession of the property.

Mission Accomplished

The main reason I had wanted time to think, is that the house is completely unfurnished (other than two twin bed frames with cheap foam mattresses).

I will have to buy most everything – stove top, refrigerator, furniture, etc … and I will be responsible for all maintenance.

But as I think about it, for the rent of $180 per month, I can afford to pay much more in furnishings … and I will likely be able to resell literally everything that I buy, recouping most of my expenses when I leave. I quickly tell Neil that I want to buy his better-quality twin mattress, his stove top and propane tank, his stainless steel pots and pans, his pressure cooker, and several other small items. Then I begin the process of manifesting a refrigerator. (Neil does not have one.)

Preliminary research tells me that a tiny fridge that does not really meet my needs will cost me around $200.00 US … and that a new, medium size fridge (but still quite small) will cost me around $340.00 US. I begin to shop around, and also put out an inquiry message on the Facebook website for Sacred Valley Housing and Market.

On Thursday, the day after signing my lease, I make a trip to Cusco to check out prices of various items there. While in the minivan on my way up the mountain, I call a woman who had recently left a comment on my Facebook inquiry. I soon learn that she has a one-year-old full-size fridge that she originally purchased for nearly double the prices that I am considering. But she will sell it to me for only $280.00 US. Later that evening, when I return from Cusco, I stop at her house, buy her refrigerator, a beautiful toaster oven, a standup shelf, a small dresser, a bookshelf, a few dishes, and several other kitchen items. (She too is moving in a couple of weeks, and has many useful items for sale.)

In less than four days, I have manifested a house, signed the contact, and purchased enough items to furnish my basic living needs – and I absolutely know that when (if) I leave, I will be able to sell everything for about the same price that I paid.

House Dreaming

I am so excited about my new house. It is just outside of Calca, on a canyon road that leads into the mountains. The road is narrow and dirty, and the homes in the area are all adobe, and do not look impressive on the outside.

But as I walk through the doors, it is kind of like walking through the broom closet into Narnia (reference to The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S.Lewis). As I step onto the back patio, all neighbors have vanished. In front of me is a large garden, and behind that a river. The rear property is large and the high walls block out all neighboring civilization.

The landlord lives upstairs, but he is only there for a part of the year, and I am told he is very quiet and will not invade my space. The home I am renting is actually more of a courtyard. In one building are two bedrooms and a kitchen, all opening up into the courtyard with separate doors. In the other building is my master bedroom with private bath, a large living room that will be perfect for ceremonies (if I choose to host any), and another separate bath for guests. Then, there is a large covered patio area with magical views.

And all I can see from my patio are trees and gorgeous mountains, with the gentle sound of the river gracing my ears. It will be the perfect place to isolate and write – and to potentially work on my book. Regardless of what I do, I will love the time to meditate and isolate as I further connect with Source.

The only issue not fully resolved is the internet. Neil has an ongoing internet deal with a local provider, but I need to get software installed on my own computer, and that service is currently down for most of the next week. My heart tells me that there is nothing to worry about, that it will be working before I move in, it will install smoothly, and it will fully meet my needs.

End Of A Series

With most of the housing arrangements behind me, I spend the weekend resuming my writing, publishing “Part 7” of my blog series on Sunday, and writing most of my final “Part 8” blog on Monday.

But as happens in this part of the world, the internet is down for most of two full days on Monday and Tuesday, and other social activities quickly fill my time, including a delightful campfire gathering on Monday evening.

I finally manage to publish “Part 8” of my series early on Tuesday evening – just after the internet finally returns to stability. I am so happy and proud of myself for this final blog, and for taking the time and making the effort to write down my journey. Even if no one else were to ever read a word of what I have written, the benefits to my own integration make the effort so worth every minute involved.

Feeling And Wondering

With a burst of inner guidance telling me it is time, I decide to do another San Pedro (huachuma) ceremony with Paul on Wednesday, June 25, 2014. I am eager to discover where I stand with this “freezing cold” issue.

There are around eight of us sitting in the ceremonial space as I drink my glass of huachuma at just before 9:30 in the morning. It is a cold morning, but the sun is out. I am deeply curious how my body is going to react.

I begin to feel the effects by 9:45 when I am already up near the house, sitting on the lawn, basking in the sun with my fingers pushed into the grass. I feel cold, but it is tolerable, and not that bone-chilling cold from before. It is physical cold from being at nearly 10,000 feet altitude in the middle of winter. But as near as we are to the equator, even in winter the days here can be quite pleasant and warm while the sun is out.

By 11:00 a.m., I already feel the confusing effects of being pulled and grounded by the energy of the earth. It is confusing at times, but not overwhelming, and I am still not overly cold.

Paul and his partner Sue occasionally check on me (she just returned from Australia). I tell them that I am not sure just now deep I am in this journey. When I open my eyes I feel quite normal and mental, but when I close my eyes, I feel the energy quite strongly. I try to figure out if maybe I might need a little more to take me deeper.

But Sue points out that I am in my head, and asks, “Why would you want more medicine?” I realize that she is right, and that when I stop thinking I am already quite deep in the journey. I do not need more.

Head Chatter

Until mid afternoon, I hardly move, simply reclining in my spot on the grass, with my fingers dug into the earth below. Others from my group are frequently moving around, talking to each other, and even carrying on long conversations. I am confused and do not understand what they are doing.

I want to feel the energy, and do not want to miss anything. I begin to wonder if maybe I am missing something here – if maybe I need to be more social in this experience – but the idea just doesn’t resonate with me.

I also notice that my heart does not feel open. I am not cold, but cannot feel much energy in that region.

I am in my head, trying to figure it all out, trying to make sure I do this journey correctly, trying to understand what is happening, and it is just not working. Yes, I am having a good experience, but No, it is nothing profound.

Emotions Of Confusion

Finally, I decide to sit up a little. As I then put my fingertips back on the ground, I start to feel confusing reality shifts, and begin to feel emotions of confusion.

Sue shows up just a minute or two later and asks how I am doing. When I express that I am starting to feel some emotion, the tears suddenly begin to flow. She asks beautiful questions that draw me out and help me to realize that I do need and want to feel this emotion.

“What does your heart want to do right now?” She asks.

“It wants me to feel and allow this emotion,” I begin to respond. “It wants me to open the hidden walls that continue to block me, and it wants me to stop fighting this process … to stop trying to figure things out.”

“But I don’t know how,” I add, as tears begin to stream profusely down my cheeks.

I cry for a while, but cannot fully let go of the emotion. Soon, it turns into an automatic “dry heave” attempt, but with the huachuma in my system, a dry heave weirdly translates into intense dry coughing instead.

Feeling The Confusion

Sue comes and goes several times, telling me a couple of times that she senses the emotions of grief just underneath what I am allowing myself to feel. Each time she mentions the grief, I begin to intensely sob, but for whatever reason, the emotion keeps fading. It is confusing. I feel the grief, but it keeps hiding, refusing to fully open.

I remember that I have a long journey with “confusion” – one that began as a tiny child – and one that has frequently surfaced during my journey of inner work in both Guatemala and Peru. Confusion is an emotion that I know has been deeply stuck in my field – and every time I feel it, I tend to identify with it.

Today, I decide to just allow myself to feel confused, not judging myself for not knowing – not judging myself for swirling in confusion.

Allowing And Surrendering

In another inspired moment, Sue points out that she feels as if I am on the edge of further opening and tearing down walls, but that part of me is fighting, terrified to let those walls crumble.

I know she is correct, and as I ponder her words, more deep tears consume me. All I can do is surrender, because I simply don’t know how to “do” this. I don’t even know where all these walls are – but I do know they are there.

I simply try to surrender to the concept that my journey is being guided by Higher Powers, and that it is happening perfectly – that I do not need to do it or understand it – that it IS happening all by itself. All I need to do is to stop getting in the way, and to allow it to flow unimpeded as much as possible.

Deep Vulnerability

When the sun goes behind the mountain, instead of bundling up and running to the fire, I have instead removed my coat and sweatshirt, and remain in the cool outdoors. I am actually fairly warm.

Still feeling extremely confused by the energy flowing through me, I make a desperate attempt to seek help. I move to a nearby bench and place my hands around the base of some beautiful fuchsia flowers and beg them to please help me, literally believing that they are capable of energetically doing just that.

As I sit there in this state of deep vulnerability, I begin to sob – and I sob for nearly half an hour while allowing myself to feel the emotions of confusion.

At one point, Paul checks in on me, placing his hand on my back to calm me.

“I just need to let these tears out,” I tell him with confidence. “I am begging these flowers to help me.”

“If that works,” Paul lovingly responds, “I will plant some of these flowers just for you.”

Paul understands my request, and soon leaves me to my deep process. My tears are actually a powerful part of my journey. They do not need to be soothed or comforted. As he walks away, I secretly hope he does give me a start of these beautiful flowers.

An Inner Furnace

Just before sitting with the flowers, Sue had helped me by guiding me into a deep meditation – one that helped me to reconnect with the energy in my heart.

As I continue to sit here with these flowers, I soon find that peaceful sweet spot where my heart is open and warm, once again. I sit here holding the base of this gorgeous fuchsia plant for a very long time, meditating ever deeper.

While looking out into the valley, I also notice some farmers burning two large fields of corn stubble. I occasionally glance out at the blazing fire in the distance.

Several times today, even before the fires were lit, I have seen a bright orange fire-like glow when I close my eyes. Each time this happened, I had the strong feeling that my own inner stubble was being burned in an inner furnace, clearing the way for more healing and opening, Now, as I watch these distant fires, every time that I close my eyes I see these inner furnaces even more clearly. I strongly know that, whatever is happening is profound and cleansing, and that I simply need to trust without trying to understand.

A Continuing Journey

Just before dark, I join others from my group inside by the fire. As usual, I love the soup and bread that Paul brings. Eating at this point in a ceremony is always so magical and grounding.

For most of the evening I simply remain in my own energy, closing my eyes and enjoying the experience.

At around 8:00 p.m., I say goodnight to Paul and Sue before returning to my home, doing so in the darkness of night. I don’t sleep all that well, but the rest I do get is quite adequate.

On Thursday, I am again surprised when I continue to feel the huachuma energy (in a mild way) all day long.

I note that I also feel a strong desire to be alone right now, to not mix energies with others. When I do find myself around others, I feel as if I want to run away. I am not sure if I am projecting onto them, or if I am simply feeling their own densities while knowing that it is in my interest to remain in my own energy.

I never do figure that one out. Instead, I simply trust that my intuitions are accurate and make no attempt to judge myself or others.

Finally Catching Up

Friday, June 27, 2014, is more of the same. I manage to post another photo post (just as I also did yesterday), but I still feel a strong need to stay away from the energy of other people, at least for now.

When a group of people from my house gather on the porch outside my room, I feel so agitated by their energy that I finally just go for a walk to get away from it, not returning until after they are gone. I am extremely sensitive right now – but I know it is all perfect.

With my Cusco and Pisac photos now posted, I spend Saturday resuming my writing, catching up on my first couple of weeks here in the Sacred Valley.

Today, in this moment, it is Sunday, June 29, 2014. I cannot believe that I am actually writing about this present moment. This morning I published the blog that I wrote yesterday, and early tomorrow morning, if all goes well, I expect to do the same with this one.

During this next week, I hope to post more than 1100 photos (already uploaded) from my trips to Machu Picchu and Lake Titicaca, but other than that, I am all caught up.

A New Phase

As I sit here typing away on my bed, I feel nothing but excitement for the future. In just six short days I will be shifting homes yet again. This time, I will be moving into my home in Calca, with a five month lease.

At this point in time, I cannot honestly commit to exactly what I will do while in my new little home.

For some time now, I have felt strong guidance that it is almost time to begin working on my book. Doing exactly that is one of my manifested intentions for the near future. But I also understand that meditation and quiet time are key; and that I will be spending a great deal of time seeking out inspiration as to exactly what should be in that book.

Perhaps I will simply spend the next five months meditating and doing more ceremonies. Maybe I will go back and reread all of the thousands of pages that I have written during my five years of travels, hoping to make sense of it all. Or perhaps I will receive strong guidance and simply start writing in some type of channeled form, without revisiting any of the past.

I really do not know … and I am quite content and happy not knowing. I suspect that I will continue to post an occasional blog, documenting ongoing events, but I am not even sure of that.

It feels as if I am entering a new phase of my journey, and I will not know what that looks like until it actually happens.

I am so excited to find out.

Magical Journeys

These last six weeks have been filled with amazing growth and exciting travel adventures.

The period began in late May with another multi-day huachuma journey – a deep journey with inner freezing – freezing to the core. It was a journey that opened profound metaphors that showed me how I have literally pushed out very real parts of me – parts of my energy – exiling them to the freezing temperatures of rejection and hatred. In the weeks that followed, I found great healing while reintegrating many such exiled parts in what is always an ongoing journey of self-discovery.

And the period ended with another huachuma adventure, one that further thawed the icy regions of my heart, showing me that bright metaphorical flames are helping to burn away the stubble and walls that continue to block me, doing so with perfect timing and synchronous flow, without the need for mental interference.

Sandwiched in the middle were two other powerful ayahuasca ceremonies and two amazing adventures to Machu Picchu and Lake Titicaca.

But how can I forget the magical manifestations that all came together to set me up for five months in a beautiful little corner of the Sacred Valley, preparing me for who knows what in the near future.

It is in the “not knowing” that the magic truly exists.

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

Quiet giggles consume me as the wheels of my plane screech down on the tarmac of the Lima airport. My flight from Iquitos lasted about ninety minutes, taking me over beautiful jungle and mountain scenery, much of which was covered by thick clouds. It is Tuesday, April 29, 2014, at about 10:30 a.m., when I step into the foggy sunlight of Lima.

I am surprised that we stop in the middle of the tarmac. After climbing down a wheeled staircase, we are whisked onto a bus that then takes us to the terminal. My luggage is already checked through all the way to Cusco, but I still need to stop at the airline counter to check in to my next flight. I don’t understand why, but I have to get some type of sticker placed on my next ticket. My Spanish is improving on a consistent basis, but I still struggle to understand in some situations. When I ask at the counter, not even sure what I am asking for, the woman seems to understand, and seconds later an “airport tax” sticker is placed on my ticket to Cusco.

I have three hours to kill before my connecting flight leaves. Feeling guided, I check out the Cusco section of my tour book and make a few calls to reserve a hotel room. But I spend most of my time in Lima simply meditating in the waiting area of the departure gate.

Finally, after another short flight, at just before 3:15 p.m., I look out the window and see the city of Cusco nestled in a valley below me. Even though I have never been to Cusco in this lifetime, the energy here feels unusually familiar. A sense of “being home” consumes me as the inner giggles continue to flow.

I am landing in the mountain tops. The city itself resides at 11,152 feet (3399 meters) above sea level. I already know it will be quite the shift in both temperature and altitude. Both Iquitos and Lima are very close to sea level. As I step off the plane, the cool air is quite a shock.

Soon, with luggage in hand and a coat on my back, a taxi whisks me away to my hotel, situated just a block north of the “Plaza De Armas” in the old historic center of Cusco.

Freezing Cold

It is after 4:00 p.m. when I arrive at the Hostal Rojas. The sun has already disappeared behind nearby mountain tops, and without sun, I feel as if I have walked into a deep freeze. The temperature shift is quite dramatic after having lived in the sweltering hot jungle for four and a half months.

Once I am checked in, I bundle up and begin a quick exploration of the surrounding city-center area. As usual, I have done no advance research. It feels more adventurous to just figure things out as I go. Soon, I am sitting in a nearby restaurant, devouring a yummy meal of chicken shish-ka-bobs

That first night at the Hostal Rojas is freezing. The bed is piled high with three thick blankets, and as long as I remain under the heavy layers I am fine. But every time I make a trip to the bathroom (which turns out to be frequent), I get the chill of a lifetime. Even here in the mountains, the vast majority of people in this region live without any type of central heating.

Tourist, Shopper, And Tour Planner

I won’t go into a lot of detail about my time in Cusco. Such detail is already documented in my photo post titled: “Photos from Cusco” published on June 26, 2014.

In short, I spend most of two long days playing tourist, exploring the city and surrounding areas on foot and by tour bus. My third day in Cusco is consumed mostly by shopping and errands.

Feeling embarrassed by my baggy slacks (after losing 30 pounds), I purchase three new pair of slacks. They are obviously knock-off counterfeits, because they have brand name labels on them, but only cost around $25 each, and the workmanship seems to be quite substandard. But the slacks work for me – they fit around my waist without needing a belt, and I don’t seem to have many other options.

I also spend considerable time researching travel options for Machu Picchu. I want to make sense out of the maze of possibilities – whether to arrange my own trip or to book something through an agency, etc…

When all is said and done, I feel guided to purchase my own entry tickets to the ruins. I will spend one entire day (June 1, 2014) in the park itself, and will then spend a second day (June 2) climbing the famous Huayna Picchu (or Wayna Picchu) mountain that sits right behind the ruins in most photos of the area. Tickets for this hike are hard to come by. Right now, they are already sold out several weeks in advance … but during the high season (which is beginning now) they are often sold out several months in advance.

With entrance tickets in hand, I then walk to an office of “Peru Rail” where I buy roundtrip train tickets to Aguas Calientes (the city near the base of the ruins). I will arrive on May 31 and return on June 2.

I am excited to have tickets in hand. I have felt drawn to Machu Picchu for a very long time, and feel quite excited (and apprehensive) about climbing the Huayna Picchu mountain. I have heard so many conflicting stories. Some people tell me I will be able to easily complete the hike. Other accounts talk about how difficult and dangerous it is, making me wonder if I am in good-enough condition. But, my heart tells me to give it a try, and I will. The worst that can happen is that I will turn around and simply not finish.

Pisac Or Bust

On Friday, May 2, 2014, after completing all my errands, I check out of my hotel at just before 11:00 a.m., with another destination in mind.

I have felt drawn to the town of Pisac for a very long time. Pisac is about an hour away from Cusco. It too is nestled in a valley – one called “The Sacred Valley”. The Sacred Valley begins just over the mountain range to the east of Cusco. It is a long, winding valley that gradually drops in altitude until it reaches Aguas Calientes (1300 feet below Machu Picchu). Pisac is at the upper end of the valley, at an elevation of about 9751 feet (2972 meters) above sea level (1400 feet lower than Cusco). Aguas Calientes is at the lower end of the Sacred Valley, at an elevation 6690 feet (2040 meters).

Soon, after a short taxi ride, I pay 2.5 soles (about $1.00 US) and board a rickety old bus. Nearly an hour later, after winding through well-paved mountain roads, the bus descends into the Sacred Valley, and I step down into another reality.

Pisac is a small town, with perhaps 10,000 residents. Most of the homes are made from adobe, and the streets are dirty and narrow. The population here is made up of mostly indigenous people. The surrounding mountains are gorgeous and the energy here is delightful.

Pisac (and surrounding areas) has become a favorite spot for foreign travelers and expats. Like my former residence in San Marcos La Laguna, at Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, Pisac is filled with new age, holistic health, and spiritual people, all on their own variety of assorted journeys. Should I choose to do so, I could easily participate in massages, sweat lodges, yoga, social activities, tarot readings, astrology classes, and service opportunities, etc.

But what really draws me here is the possibility of renting a house and maybe working on the passion of writing a book – while simultaneously being able to participate in medicine ceremonies if I feel so inclined.

Social Shyness

After checking into an inexpensive hostel, I go to Ulrike’s restaurant – a place that I hear is a local hangout for westerners. As I eat by myself, I am shocked by how shy and unsure of myself that I feel. I realize that, while I have done a great deal of social healing, that I still have many old habits to face. Soon, a situation creates itself where I feel comfortable in talking to someone at a neighboring table. Before long, I have purchased a ticket to participate in a fundraiser activity for a local school.

After lunch, I explore the surrounding area for more than three hours, stopping at various businesses to ask questions – hoping to learn about places for rent etc. What I hear from most everyone is that there is no central source for information, and that houses are in short supply. The best way to find one is to connect socially with others, so that when one becomes available, I can jump at the opportunity. (I am also on a Facebook page that advertises housing opportunities in the Sacred Valley, but there is very little advertising happening right now.)

I feel a knot in my stomach as I contemplate the need to reach out socially. I am no longer afraid to do so, but socializing is not my primary purpose here. I want to mostly isolate and work on my writing.

Synchronicities And Social Exploration

I find my hostel to be cold, old, dark, and dreary, so when the power goes off in the morning (and other nearby places still have power), I pack up my bags and move to a much nicer place that I found in my explorations of yesterday. My new place is so much lighter, more modern, and even less expensive.

Even though I feel quite shy and alone (feeling as if I do not know anyone here), I actually already have a friend. At 10:30 a.m. I meet Andrea for breakfast. I knew her casually during my retreat in Iquitos. She and her partner have rented a house in a nearby town. Our breakfast conversation is delightful, giving me confidence that “I can do this”.

After a fun morning, I pick up my phone and call another man that I have not yet met. He is an astrologer and author, but I don’t know that yet. All I know is that he has a small house that will be available to sublet from May 10 to June 3 – with the caveat that he needs someone to care for his cats.

I meet Dan at 2:00 p.m., and have soon agreed to rent his place. I will move into his house in just seven days. It all feels so synchronous … and it is. Somehow, I choose to ignore the fact that I have cat allergies – allergies that can be quite severe with certain cats. I trust that all is well.

Later that evening, as I use my ticket to attend the fundraiser (purchased yesterday at lunch), I find myself feeling extremely alone and awkward (a very old and strong party pattern). But I try not to focus on those feelings, and instead attempt to act confident and outgoing. I do connect with a few people, but continue to feel awkward. I am the “new person” here, and everyone else seems to have deep social bonds with already established friends.

Not beating myself up – being quite gentle in fact – I choose to leave as soon as the entertainment part of the activity is over. When people sit down to eat, and I am left standing alone, I head back to my hostel room. The thought of approaching a table full of people and asking to join them just feels too awkward, and I am not hungry anyway.

It was a big stretch for me to even attend the party. Rather than criticize myself for leaving, I congratulate myself for having gone in the first place. I am, however, quite surprised that my shyness continues to be so strong.

Synchronous Ceremonies

As fate would have it, I quickly build a fun friendship with my neighbor at the new hostel. He is a really nice man from Canada who is having a lot of fun attending various ayahuasca ceremonies in the area. I pick his brain, writing down names and phone numbers, and have soon made arrangements to attend my first ayahuasca ceremony while here in Pisac.

On Monday evening, May 5, 2014, I spend forty-five minutes walking to the ceremonial center, just up the canyon from the nearby town of Taray. Alonso Del Rio (the shaman) has a beautiful piece of property here, with a large ceremonial maloca. I arrive an hour early, and spend time getting to know a few people from Mexico.

The ceremony itself begins just after 6:00 p.m..

I am surprised by how the ayahuasca does not taste bad to me. In fact, compared to what I was drinking in Iquitos, this is very palatable. And within twenty or thirty minutes, I find myself in a deep journey – strong, but not overpowering. I manage to stay in a relaxed “sweet spot”, enjoying the journey.

But the journey fades shortly after 8:00 p.m., just after Alonso has opened up the possibility of a second dose. After some internal debate, I walk over and sit in front of Alonso, asking for a little more.

A Familiar Pattern

Within ten minutes after consuming the second small dose, I am back in a deep journey – one that lasts a very long time.

I have few clear memories from the evening, and the only intuitive messages that come to me are related to the importance of self love – and of loving others with pure innocence and lack of judgment – seeing them in their own divinity.

I love the music of the evening. I even try to join in the singing (we are allowed to) – but I just feel too exhausted to project any volume. I see this exhaustion as an emotion in and of itself – an emotion of resistance and tiredness in the midst of a beautiful journey.

After four and a half hours, the ceremony is closed at around 10:30 p.m. – but I remain deeply in my journey, still feeling weak and exhausted. I am not sure if it is physical or emotional, but at times I feel extremely cold. I am wrapped up in many layers of clothing and blankets, but I simply cannot get warm.

Shortly after midnight, I feel a sense of darkness that tries to consume me – one accompanied by nausea and dizziness. Intuitions tell me this is just self-sabotage, but it is very real. I feel disconnected from my heart and guidance, not sure what is going on – doing all I can to remain focused on love.

A Warm Bed

During a trip to the bathroom, as I attempt to vomit, I feel as if I am on the edge of losing my sanity. I sit on the floor of that bathroom for what must be at least twenty minutes. I am unsuccessful in my attempt to purge, and am swirling in a miserable, dizzying journey. I recognize that this is just an old pattern of miserable emotions that I need to feel and release, but it is not a fun experience.

Finally, at 1:10 a.m., my friend from the hostel tells me that he is going to walk home now. I ask if I can join him. I want to get back in a real bed, and I don’t want to walk forty-five minutes alone, in the dark, at this early hour. As we step outside, I wobble and feel a tiny bit dizzy, but am confident that I can make it. To my delight, however, a local woman leaves at the same time. She has a car, and quickly volunteers to take us to the edge of Pisac.

I am so grateful to be back in my soft bed with warm blankets. Eventually, I even manage to get a few hours of broken rest.

Distracted, Energized, And Resting

I wake up on Tuesday morning still feeling weak and tired. But soon, as I get myself going, I find the strength to function.

Just before noon, I catch a collectivo (shared mini van) to Cusco. I need more money and do not fully trust the ATM here in town. It is a fast trip, and I am back in Pisac before 3:00 p.m..

I have been distracted and tired all day – but this is to be expected with the energy of ayahuasca still coursing through my body. Finally, later that evening, after resting and watching a movie or two, I manage to engage in a beautiful meditation – a meditation that leaves me basking in magical energy flows.

Early Wednesday morning, I return to that meditation, and enjoy more of the same energy. My heart seems to be opening even further as the magical energy dances around.

For the next few days, I mostly rest, being quite gentle with myself. I recognize that with the altitude and temperature shifts, I need to slow down and give myself time to adjust.

On Friday morning, I am delighted when I learn that my friend Sufi will be flying to Peru next Tuesday, and that she will likely come to Pisac a few days later. I look forward to sharing more time with her.

A Purging Ceremony

On Friday evening (May 9, 2014), I participate in my second ayahuasca ceremony here in Pisac – this one under the leadership of Diego Palma. I really enjoy his energy and style of interacting with others as I sit through a pre-ceremony meeting.

After drinking the ayahuasca at around 9:20 p.m., I am surprised by how quickly I begin to feel the effects – perhaps only twenty minutes later. I soon feel nausea and am shocked when I am eventually the first person to vomit. It is an intense purge that goes on for several minutes. Later, feeling the medicine very strongly, I am not even sure if I am capable of walking outside to the bathroom. I make it, but am very wobbly.

The most weird thing of the evening is the intensely painful intestinal gas that overwhelms me. It churns and pops in my lower belly, making audible sounds as the pressurized misery moves here and there in the intestines. I am agonizingly bloated – and it is all nothing but hot air. Yet I know that it is somehow an integral and important part of my process tonight.

Soon, I stumble back to that bathroom, this time engaging in another extremely noisy vomiting purge.

Overall, I vomit a total of three or four times in the first hour and a half. This surprises me greatly as I wonder what is going on. This is the most I have purged since my October 2012 ceremony in Guatemala. I know the intensity is serving me, but it is also quite overwhelming, especially when my arms and legs begin vibrating and shaking mildly.

I feel a strong desire to simply whimper and moan in misery, and I believe this to be very real emotion that I need to feel before it can be released. I surrender and allow myself to sink into the emotion, while simultaneously struggling to minimize external sounds and expression. The emotions are so strong that I have little choice but to feel them deeply. I have no strength to do anything else.

Joy And Contentment

I am not the only one having an intense journey tonight. Others around me seem to be struggling even more than me. We are packed tightly into this small ceremonial space, and it is the first ayahuasca ceremony for both of the people on either side of me. We are so close that they frequently touch and bump me.

The “old me” might have been deeply annoyed by this. The “new me” flows with deep compassion and love, seeing these two as my brother and sister – as old friends. I am not bothered at all by the physical contact, and am instead ignoring it with love.

Eventually, as the intensity of my own journey subsides at around 11:30 p.m., I manage to start bringing in light and love – even finding the strength and energy to sing along with some of the songs being sung.

Over time, I gradually move into a place of joy and contentment, bursting with love and genuine smiles that come from the heart.

The ceremony closes around 2:00 a.m., but the songs continue as others sing and play instruments. Finally feeling complete, I choose to walk home at around 2:40 a.m..

Post Ceremony Pondering

As I walk slowly in the dark, enjoying the incredible star-filled sky, I ponder about the intense misery that flowed through me earlier in the evening. There is still no doubt that what I felt tonight was very real and very old emotion – emotion that I have repressed, resisted, and fought throughout my life.

“Getting LOST in the emotion would have been self-sabotage,” intuitions also bring clarity, “but it was still very important to let myself feel the emotion, doing so without identifying with it … without getting lost in it.”

The ceremony tonight was profound, showing me that there yet remain deep and core emotions that block me from being able to be fully present.

By 3:30 a.m., I am back in my hostel bed, and I manage to fall asleep by around 4:00 a.m., only getting a couple of hours of good rest.

Kitty Chaos

Early Saturday morning, still feeling quite tired, I walk out to Dan’s house to feed the cats. I then return to my hostel, enjoy a nice conversation with my friend, pack up my bags, catch a taxi, and soon move to my new “temporary home”.

Not being prepared to cook, I then head out to get lunch and do necessary shopping for kitchen staples. Feeling energized, I spend the entire afternoon working on my blog. It is time to start catching up in my writing.

I noticed it when first deciding to live in this little house, but now, even before sleeping here, the place is already beginning to bother me. The house is quite cluttered and dirty and has a very strong cat smell. I still hope that I will love it here, but am also wondering if perhaps I might have made a mistake.

“It will be purrfect,” I giggle, reminding myself that it was my heart that guided me here.

But as I later try to sleep, I realize just how strong my allergies really are. Plus, the little kitties are extremely active and noisy as they play. When I pull the comforter up to my face, my eyes begin to itch intensely, and my sinuses start to swell and plug up, making it difficult to breathe.

“Everything happens for a reason,” I remind myself in meditation. “Maybe it is time to allow these allergies to come to the surface, while using ayahuasca, so that I can purge and release the energies behind the allergies.”

Somehow, I manage to relax and fall asleep – but the kitties wake me up repeatedly as they chew on my luggage, run around, scratch in their litter box, and frequently sit on the bed next to my pillow.

Back To Writing

When morning comes, I crawl out of bed by 6:30 a.m., and am surprised that I am not tired at all. As I move around, the allergies soon fade and my nose clears. I quickly feed the kitties, shower, and for the first time since January, I cook oatmeal and start a pot of beans in Dan’s pressure cooker.

Then, also for the first time since January, I spend the day writing. I have a huge and daunting writing task ahead of me. On Monday, I manage to finish and edit my first installment of writing and integration. I am excited when I hit the “publish” button, sending “An Ayahuasca Healing Adventure – Part 1” out for all to read.

And I do it just in time to prepare for yet-another ayahuasca ceremony.

A Double Dose

I leave home early, arriving at my destination before 7:00 p.m., feeling eager to set up my space. The ceremony tonight will be in the same space as the one on Friday, but this one will be led by “Jean Piel” – another ayahuascero who works with Diego Palma. I should probably mention that many of the ceremonies here in Pisac are quite different from those led by indigenous shamans in the jungle. Instead, they are similar to the first ceremony I ever attended in Mexico, with many different kinds of music, songs, and instruments. I have also noticed that in my first two ceremonies, there has been almost no direct one-on-one time with the shaman/leader.

As I sit in the ceremonial maloca, waiting for the ceremony to begin, I feel profoundly social as I engage in a delightful conversation with a beautiful young man from Arizona.

After more group introductory discussion, I finally get to drink my ayahuasca at around 9:20. I feel the effects mildly, but they never get strong. At 10:30 p.m., still not feeling much, I walk over and sit in front of Jean Piel, asking for a second dose.

“I just want a tiny bit more,” I tell him.

But his partner Julie is the one who pours my second dose, and she fills my cup up to the top. I almost tell her “No, I don’t want that much” – but intuitions whisper that maybe I need to trust what is happening. I soon drink the whole amount – filling me with a second full dose of plant medicine.

The medicine comes on very strong. Within fifteen minutes I am deep in the journey. In the same timeframe, I am suddenly overwhelmed by freezing cold, as if I were walking naked in a blizzard. I pull a thick blanket around me and up over my head, desperately trying to warm myself. But the cold is energetic and not physical. Something in me is really resisting.

An Unwelcome Bath

Meanwhile, many others in the room have been purging intensely with just a single dose. Later, many people tell me that the medicine tonight was stronger than normal.

I do not remember much from the remainder of the evening, other than the fact that I am freezing, miserable, and purge several times. The first couple of purges are weak, but I finally clear my stomach completely (energetically and physically) about an hour later.

The most traumatic thing of the evening is that at one point “Brenda-doll” falls into my purge bucket. I frequently hold Bobby-bear and Brenda-doll during ceremonies. When I cannot find her, it takes several minutes to realize what has happened. I am overwhelmed with sadness when I discover her drenched, essentially taking a “bath” in putrid brown stomach contents.

Barely able to walk, I quickly carry Brenda-doll to the bathroom to rinse and wash her off as best I can.

Perceived Darkness

When I return to the ceremony space, I feel intensely lost. I sense a lot of “dark energy” in the room. I am not sure if it is my own projection, or if it is real. And I am stuck in my head, not feeling sure if I need to surrender to this energy, or resist it. My head and my fear both tell me to resist.

I spend most of the remaining evening whimpering in agony as I struggle to remain connected to my heart power. I am lost and unable to focus … mostly just struggling with the emotional energies flowing out of me.

I repeatedly attempt to surrender to what is happening, but I cannot. Fear surfaces – fear about the perceived darkness. And weakness distracts me. I have no ability to focus mentally, and just drift aimlessly while whimpering in exhaustion.

Several times, I attempt to sing along with a few songs, but my voice is weak and shaky. And my body twitches with agitated energy, especially the arms.

Repeatedly, I do my best to check in with guidance. What I keep getting is that this is indeed real emotion – emotion that I am going into more deeply than I have ever allowed before. I find it somewhat frightening, because I know it would be quite easy to get lost and drown in this energy.

Even so, I see all of this as GOOD – as being exactly what I need in order to release more stuff from the bottom of my big emotional barrel – releasing putrid and frightening stuff from my field.

A Wobbly Ending

At 2:00 a.m., when the candles are lit in the center of the room (indicating the close of ceremony), I am far from done. I continue to struggle to find focus. I do my best to ignore the noisy distractions and the mindless conversations (my perception) going on around me.

Finally, at around 3:00 a.m., I start talking to and hugging a couple of people. I am beginning to feel better and more grounded.

When I have my strength back, at around 3:40 a.m., I leave to walk home. I am very wobbly, but strong enough to make it. I wander down the dirt road as if I were drunk, but less than a half hour later I make it through the dark and back to my little house. I quickly crawl under the covers and do manage to get about three hours of broken sleep.

When I wake up at 7:00 a.m., I continue to feel agitated energy pulsing intensely through me. I want to whimper and cry some more. I try to rest … and try to meditate … but I am quite non-functional.

Finally, at just after 9:00 a.m., I set off on another journey, feeling much stronger.

Exploring Huachuma

For quite some time, I have been interested in another plant medicine – one whose roots lie in the shamanic traditions of the indigenous people from the Andes Mountains. In both English and Spanish, the medicine is called San Pedro. In Peru, it is called Huachuma. It is a mescaline-based medicine that comes from a cactus that is widespread in this part of the world.

Feeling that it is time to check it out, I have made arrangements to do a ceremony tomorrow (Wednesday) with a man named Paul Temple (highly recommended to me by a few people). Today (Tuesday) I am going out to his house to help prepare the medicine.

After arriving at just before 10:00 a.m., I enjoy the fascinating discussions and subsequent experience of helping to peel the cactus and harvest the darker green portions. Soon, Paul has it all in a large kettle as he adds water and brings it to a boil. I am excited to be sharing this experience with another young friend (not Sufi) – one that I also first met in Guatemala. She just arrived in town a few days ago, and it is fun to see her.

After resting for the remainder of Tuesday, and another sneezing night of cat allergies, I get up early on Wednesday morning, May 14, 2014 – beginning the 40 minute walk back to Paul’s home at around 7:30.

After a morning of visiting and drinking tea, we all walk down to the ceremonial space at just after 9:00 a.m..

An Inner Deep Freeze

There are ten of us present, including Paul (our leader). As soon as we finish the drinking ceremony, we separate and find our own private space somewhere within the boundaries of Paul’s gorgeously landscaped garden areas.

I begin to feel very mild effects after about 40 minutes, including a pleasant energy flow in my legs and lower chakras; but that is about all I feel from the medicine.

At around 11:30 a.m., I am still not feeling much, other than a nice energy with bright colors. I sense that I am “on the edge” of going deeper, but am simply not getting there. At around noon, after discussing my “threshold” with Paul, I decide that I want to drink a little more medicine. Paul gives me perhaps another third of a dose.

Soon, rather than remaining in a sitting up position, I lie down, with my fingertips in the grass. Gradually, I feel the medicine connecting me with energies of the earth, and “reality” begins to confuse me. When I close my eyes, I feel as if I am journeying outside of time. When I open my eyes, I am startled back to the present. It is amazing, and magical.

But what startles me most is that I feel as if I am beginning to freeze, from the inside out, as if a deep freeze has taken up residence inside my bones.

A Pending Fire

All along, I have believed that San Pedro (Huachuma) just gave people a beautiful connection and heightened sensitivity to nature and mother earth. I am rapidly learning that it is much, much more than that.

Paul soon helps me move to a place around the corner, into a spot with bright sun, and then begins to tell me that the cold I feel is NOT from the outside – that it is energetic.

I rest here for a long time, drifting all over the place when I close my eyes, but still shivering furiously. The cold seems to be focused mostly in my spine and legs. I do not know what to make of it, and cannot seem to move beyond it.

Meanwhile, Paul shares several stories with me, talking about his own past experiences with the freezing cold, and reassuring me that this is a very common thing with huachuma.

“Brenda,” Paul tells me at about 1:30 p.m., “I am going to build a fire inside and move you to it. You will find that the fire will not help to warm you up. This will show you that this is not an external cold.”

Freezing In The Heat

Paul then disappears for a while before returning to escort me inside. As we pass through his dining area, I ask permission to take a quick restroom break. As I attempt to climb the staircase to Paul’s bathroom, I barely manage to maintain balance as I move one foot at a time. I am very wobbly, and feel as if I am not fully in my body. I am quite numb and detached. When I stand in front of the mirror, my face looks puffy and swollen. I am later told that this is just my own perception, that my face is perfectly normal.

And as I pee, it feels as if I am feeling someone else’s body. It is quite an unexpected experience.

Finally, as I curl up in front of a blazing fire, I am quite confused http://storecialis.net/brand-cialis/. I feel the strong heat on my skin, and my clothing feels warm to the touch – but my back continues to shiver uncontrollably, as if I am locked in a freezer with no clothes on. The truth is that I remain tightly bundled up under multiple layers of clothing.

Stuck, Lost, And Confused

I spend the afternoon in front of the fire, mostly lying down. Time seems to pass extremely slowly. I am all over the place, outside of time. When I open my eyes, I often see another member of our group squatting in front of the fire. But each time I see him, I wonder if he is real. Often, when I see him, I wonder if I am looping in time, because I seem to be reliving a former visual. I observe him repeatedly moving to the fire and then returning to his own spot across the room. It is profoundly confusing.

Sometimes I see many people in the kitchen, or walking momentarily into the room with the fireplace. But when I briefly close my eyes and open them again, the people are not there. I really am time warping.

I occasionally glance at my watch. An hour seems to take forever.

Soon, I sit up and notice that I feel as if I am “one” with everyone around me, as if we are simply different expressions of each other, as if we literally are each other. In my confusion, another woman from the group signals for me to come over and rest my head on her lap. When I do so, I feel as if there is no boundary between us.

I am so lost, and so FREEZING.

When the woman asks how I am doing, I start to sob as I attempt to explain the confusing cold, and my shivering experiences. I am in my head, trying to understand, trying to figure out what I should be feeling and doing.

I am attempting to surrender to the experience; but I feel stuck, lost, and confused.

Still Freezing

Finally, as I again find myself all alone, another woman enters the room. I get the intuitive sense that I have energetically (at another level) asked her to join and support me. We soon make eye contact.

“I am there for you,” she tells me as our eyes meet.

She sits in front of me and smiles at me whenever I open my eyes. She tells me that just last week, in her first ceremony, she too was overwhelmed with freezing cold. It helps to know that this is energetic, and part of my process. I just wish I understood it.

Every time that I close my eyes, I drift off on a journey. When I open them, this woman is right there smiling at me. It feels like forever.

“Do you want me to stay longer with you,” She asks during one open-eye connection.

I immediately begin to cry as I think about her leaving. She tells me she will stay, and she does so for a very long time.

“Ask your heart what you need,” she encourages me. “Ask huachuma to show you what this freezing is about.”

I try, but I simply cannot find any answers. Instead, I begin to cry again. She stares into my eyes, and as I look back, I see her face changing frequently, as if I am seeing a variety of medicine women at various ages. All of the faces are compassionate, both old and young, both grandmother figures and young girls.

It is a beautiful experience, but I am still freezing.

Searching For Answers

At this point I am across the room from the fire. I think about going back, but I refuse to do so, because I know it will not make any difference.

“I don’t know what to do,” I ask a few people in the room for advice. “Do I just need to surrender to this freezing cold?”

“Yes, that is good,” two people answer me.

“No,” another responds. “You don’t DO it.”

I feel deeply confused, but I kind of understand. I know this is a journey that cannot be “done” … but one which must somehow be “surrendered to” and “allowed”.

But as hard as I focus, I am unable to let go … unable to find warmth and relaxation … and not sure if I am even supposed to.

“There is so much light and energy moving in you,” one woman repeatedly tells me.

I am not quite sure if she can actually see or feel the light in me, or if she is just trying to make me feel better. I am quite lost in the cold and am not feeling much guidance at all. I try to let go and surrender, but I just continue to freeze. And every time that I close my eyes, I drift off into who knows where.

At one point, the second woman holds my hand.

“Wow,” she tells me, “your hands are really hot.”

I find it fascinating to think that my body is hot while I simultaneously feel so cold, but I do believe her. Somehow, this realization actually brings me a measure of emotional comfort, reinforcing to me that the cold I feel is energetic and not physical.

Glowing Compassion

The hours seem to drift by like years. It begins to get dark at around 6:00 p.m., and others soon join us inside by the fireplace. Part of the group, however, stays outside, enjoying a campfire. I want to join them, but don’t even feel that I have the strength to get up.

Paul soon brings me a small bowl of soup. I feel so strange as I begin to eat. I am awkward, having a hard time even being sure where my mouth is. Very carefully, I hold the bowl next to my mouth and gradually spoon the liquid through my lips. As the hot soup goes down my throat, I feel the warmth moving through me, but the sensation is bizarre and unearthly, as if it is not my throat that I am feeling.

When Paul brings more soup, followed by toasted bread with butter and honey, I gobble it all down. I had no idea I was so hungry. But even with the warm food in my belly, I continue to shiver.

Finally, at around 8:00 p.m., I find the strength to stand up and go outside. I do my best to join the conversation around the campfire, and am surprised when at times I have to slow down to wait for my mouth to form the words that I am trying to speak.

I feel a deep loving connection with everyone here. There is such a glowing compassion between us all.

At around 9:30 p.m., a few people leave to walk into town. I consider trying to go with them, but I do not feel ready to make such a long walk. Paul soon gives me more hot tea, and we sit and talk for a long while.

I love Paul’s deeply compassionate way of working with me. The combination of his physical appearance, his voice, and his wizard-like demeanor, all remind me of Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings. As he talks, I have to repeatedly focus on what he is saying in order to not drift away and get lost.

A Long Walk Home

At around 10:20 p.m., I tell Paul that I feel ready to try walking home as soon as I finish my tea. He reassures me that I can sleep near the fire if I want to, and I remind him that I have some kitties that need to be fed.

“Are you sure that you are ready?” Paul double checks with me before I say goodbye.

“Yeah, I can make it,” I reassure him.

I am not fully back into this dimension, and am still a little wobbly, but I want to be in my own bed. I fully trust my guidance, telling me that I will be fine. The long walk seems to take forever, but I also make great time, arriving back at my little house by 11:00 p.m.. After quickly feeding the cats, I crawl into bed and try to rest. But I cannot sleep; I am still freezing.

Eventually I begin to feel warmer and more relaxed, and I manage to drift off to sleep.

Time To Surrender

When I wake up on Thursday morning, I am still feeling some of the energy from the medicine. I am weak and hungry, but only eat bananas and mandarin oranges. I just want to rest in bed. Finally, at around noon, I go out and get a hamburger in town, hoping that the meat will help me to ground myself.

Later, I am still not fully coherent when I cook rice and beans for dinner. When I go to bed at 9:30 p.m., I find myself again shivering in the bone-chilling cold from within. I start to feel lots of fear. As I try to relax, I feel energy shifting in my chest – similar to the sensations of a foot waking up after having had the blood flow restricted. I continue to focus on relaxation as the waking-up energies spread higher into the shoulders.

Still feeling a little fear, I later get up and do a small amount of internet research about Huachuma (San Pedro). After finding that my experience is not an unusual one, I feel much more relaxed and trusting, and I finally fall asleep sometime before midnight.

At around 3:30 a.m. on Friday morning, however, I wake up, again freezing and shivering. Finally, I make another effort to surrender to the cold.

Profound And Beyond Words

I begin to breathe deeply, in a form of deep yogic breathing, while focusing on fully allowing and surrendering to whatever wants to happen. Gradually, I feel energies shift and move in my body, first consuming my heart and shoulder areas. Soon, the energies spread into the arms, then the neck and on to the head and facial regions. Soon, a great deal of beautiful energy radiates throughout my head.

Intuitive clarity tells me that the “freezing cold” is a symptom of the energies that are being worked with inside of my body – of emotional densities being loosened, and of energetic blockages being released and shifted. I somehow know that my breath and focus on relaxation is helping to allow the process to go further, and faster. I am profoundly surprised by how intense the energies continue to be, given that it has been nearly thirty hours since I consumed the medicine.

The meditation is beautiful as I continue to let the energetic vibrations spread throughout my body. The energies come in waves, and are magical.

Finally, while still meditating at 6:00 a.m., I get out of bed to feed the cats, and then lie down again to continue the magic. I soon feel guided to drink a full dose of cacao.

“Wow,” I later write in my journal. “I want to do huachuma again, (if it ever wears off that is, LOL). Something quite profound is happening … beyond words … beyond explanation … beyond understanding … but I know it is shifting my energetic reality in ways that will advance me to a different level.”

Let It Go

On Thursday evening, I receive a Facebook message from my friend Rocio. She asks how my “freezing” is doing, and then sends me a link to a song. I love it so much that I download it from YouTube. I had shivered when I first heard the song while in a Utah theatre back in November 2013, but it now takes on a whole new depth and meaning. It is the song “Let it Go”, from the Disney movie “Frozen”.

While the lyrics do not reflect exactly what is happening with me, they are perfect for me in this moment. It is the story of a young princess with special magic – magic that she had repressed throughout her young life, all in an effort to fit in and not frighten others. As her magic is suddenly and unexpectedly exposed – and as people accuse her of horrible evils – she runs away to the mountains and decides to finally, for the first time in her life, actually embrace who she really is.

If you want to give it a listen, here is the YouTube Link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YVVTZgwYwVo&app=desktop

And here are the words:

Let It Go
From the Disney movie: Frozen
Sung by: Idina Menzel

The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen
A kingdom of isolation
And it looks like I’m the queen
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn’t keep it in, Heaven knows I’ve tried

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know
Well, now they know

Let it go, let it go
Can’t hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door
I don’t care what they’re going to say
Let the storm rage on
The cold never bothered me anyway

It’s funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can’t get to me at all
It’s time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me, I’m free

Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You’ll never see me cry
Here I’ll stand, and here I’ll stay
Let the storm rage on

My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I’m never going back
The past is in the past

Let it go, let it go
And I’ll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone
Here I stand, in the light of day
Let the storm rage on
The cold never bothered me anyway

Grounded And Balanced

Friday morning, as I ponder the four intense ceremonies of this past week and a half, I suddenly remember that I was also deeply “freezing” in two of the three ayahuasca ceremonies.

It becomes obvious to me that both the ayahuasca and the huachuma are working together with me, showing me the freezing cold as a metaphor while helping to open some of the clenched blockages that continue to restrict further energy flow.

After drinking a dose of cacao, I decide to spend the morning sitting in the soothing energy of a radiant sun, playing with the kitties while enjoying the natural warmth that bathes my body. I feel the energy of the cacao, but do not focus on emotional processing. Instead, I just enjoy the energy. Later, as I walk into town for another burger and fries, I bump into Paul Temple at the restaurant. It seems that he is doing another unscheduled huachuma ceremony on Sunday, and I feel excited to participate and take this journey further.

In the afternoon, being much more grounded and balanced, I resume my writing, working on the second blog documenting my three month retreat in Iquitos. Just as I finish the first draft, at around 7:30 p.m., I am suddenly consumed by more freezing shivers. Being unable to find relief, I put on several layers of warm clothing and crawl into bed, shivering with an odd pulsing energy.

Shifting Energies, From Freezing To Sweltering

The energy literally reminds me of one of those pulsing shower heads that shoots out rapid bursts of pressurized water. But this is not energy massaging me from the outside. Instead, it is bombarding me on the inside, and it is freezing cold.

I do not use a watch to measure, but my heart seems to be beating rapidly, at around 130 to 140 beats per minute. Intuitions tell me that all is well, and rather than fighting the experience, I instead breathe deeply into it, not trying to control anything.

Soon, as I place the palm of my hand on my belly and chest areas, I am shocked. My skin is actually quite HOT to the touch, even though I continue to shiver with intense freezing cold.

Eventually, I fall asleep and get a few hours of much needed rest. When I suddenly wake up at around 11:30 p.m., I am shocked by how I am now extremely hot and flushed, as if I were sitting in a furnace. In fact, my face feels as if it might be red and sunburned. Over the next fifteen minutes, I remove all layers of extra clothing, leaving only my pajamas.

“Did the temperature in the house suddenly shift?” I ponder with a giggle.

“I don’t think so,” I answer my own question. “This is just the energies playing with me.”

I soon notice that when I breathe deeply, doing so with mindful presence, that I start to feel quite hot. Then, if I stop, I begin to feel much cooler. I remember stories that I have heard about how some people are able to generate body heat through meditation. I know that this is what is happening to me right now.

Spinal Densities

As I ponder on my pillow, strong intuitions tell me that ever since the ceremony on Wednesday I have been releasing energetic blockages from my back – releasing energies from my spine behind the heart and solar plexus regions. I remember how, in the late 1990s, a chiropractor had told me that in many ways, my spine was like “concrete”. It is now obvious to me that that I have been harboring a huge amount of emotional density in this region, and that the huachuma has been helping me to release much of it.

My logical mind wants to question and analyze these insights, but the intuitions are clear, and I trust them.

Finally, sleep again consumes me, also bringing a series of very weird dreams. I feel as if I really am in a different reality.

Trusting My Heart

On Saturday, May 17, 2014, I get up early, feeling energized and inspired. I spend much of the day finishing, editing, and publishing “An Ayahuasca Healing Adventure – Part 2” – fully enjoying the magical integration that always happens when I go back in time to write about past experience. As usual, the process of writing is quite profound.

As the day nears completion, I am excited about the prospect of continuing my mysterious journey with huachuma. As I ponder tomorrow’s pending ceremony, I wonder if this “freezing journey” will continue, or if I will be taken in another direction.

The only thing I know for sure is that I feel a strong affinity with the medicine. I do not yet fully understand (at a mental level) what has happened this week, but intuitions tell me that it is all quite profound, and that I need to go deeper.

At this point in my journey, I feel quite content in simply trusting my heart and intuitions. And I am not the least bit concerned about the possibility of freezing, yet again.

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

This post primarily contains photos from my time in Pisac, but since I just finished posting a blog with photos from Cusco, I have decided to first post a few more photos from Cusco – photos that I just took last week while struggling to maneuver through large crowds at an Inti Raymi Parade.

So these first photos are slightly out of order. First there are fifteen photos from Cusco on June 19, 2014, and then there will be 144 photos from Pisac, encompassing the months of May and June, 2014.

On May 2, 2014, I boarded an old bus in Cusco – a collective public bus that cost me 2.5 Soles (about $1.00 US) – a bus with a destination of Pisac. There are three main ways to get from Cusco to Pisac. One is by public bus, one is by collectivo (16-passenger mini van) (about $1.50 to $2.00 US), and the final is by taxi. The first two are very inexpensive. I arrived in the Sacred Valley about an hour later. The Sacred Valley begins on the other side of the mountains (East) from Cusco, and runs from the small community of San Salvador all the way to Machu Picchu, gradually lowering in elevation the closer you get to Machu Picchu.

The town of Pisac, where I currently live, has just over 10,000 residents, and is about 9,751 feet above sea level (2972 meters). Since Cusco is at 11,152 feet in elevation, Pisac is about 1,400 feet (427 meters) lower than Cusco. Pisac is kind of a favored center for westerners and expats, with many spiritual and alternative healing activities being readily available (Kind of like San Marcos La Laguna, at Lake Atitlan in Guatemala.)

Pisac is nestled in a valley, surrounded by beautiful mountains on all sides. The sun rises above the mountains around 8:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. and disappears on the other side between 3:00 p.m. and 4:00 p.m., depending on where you live. During the day, it is nice and warm if you are in the sun. At night, it can get down to about 34-35 degrees Fahrenheit (2 degrees Centigrade) … and I have no heating system where I live.

This post contains 159 photos in total, including detailed narratives.

As usual, the photos in this post are thumbnail images. Please click on any photo to enlarge it. The thumbnails leave much to be desired as far as colors and resolution – plus the thumbnails clip all of the edges. I use thumbnails for the post itself, because it gives people an opportunity to get a summary glimpse without downloading huge amounts of data for the high-res photos.

CLICK ON ANY PHOTO TO ENLARGE TO HIGH RESOLUTION

Cusco Inti Raymi Festivities

Every year in Cusco, there is a huge festival that begins in early June and lasts until around June 24, with the main days being June 23 and June 24. It is called Inti Raymi or “Festival of the Sun”. Here in Peru, it is centered around the Winter Solstice, when the days are the shortest. I have been quite interested in attending this festival for several years, but when I learned that the festival is mostly a “pageant” – a huge show – I lost much of my fascination.  According to Wikipedia, the last real Inti Raymi festival was in 1535. It was resurrected in 1944 as a pageant … but YES, the people participating are genuine, authentic, indigenous people.

While I would have loved to participate more, I have been quite busy with preparations for an upcoming move and decided to avoid the crowds. I had three opportunities to witness, first hand, several activities. The first two were when I was passing through Cusco on my way to and from Bolivia and Lake Titicaca in the first half of June.

Last week, on June 19, I went into Cusco for shopping errands, and stumbled upon another small parade in the Plaza De Armas. These first fifteen photos are from that parade.

I had been in Cusco investigating the possibility of buying a refrigerator and other household items (for a home I am moving to). As I walked from the “Mercado Central San Pedro” (a large indoor street market) to the Plaza De Armas, I was shocked by the huge crowds of people. It took me three times as long to maneuver through the groups of people mulling around here and there.

This photo is taken as I approach the Plaza De Armas. In the distance, you can see the huge crowd of people assembled in front of the cathedral.

This photo was taken from the same spot, looking behind me, back toward the market where I came from. If you click and expand the photo, you can see the congestion in the street that leads down the left side. The market is through the arch.

Just entering the Plaza De Armas. There are pockets of open space, but for the most part it is very difficult to get from here to there. It took me nearly fifteen minutes to walk around and through the crowd to get to the other side.

In the center of the plaza, a mock Inca Temple has been erected. A few weeks ago, I watched huge lines of people waiting their turn to get a photo on the steps of that temple. That is the cathedral in the background.

I am now standing on the steps of the cathedral, looking back at some of the crowd. A small parade is just beginning. It seems to originate from the cathedral itself.

Looking at the other end of the plaza from a nearby balcony. If you look closely, you can see one of the floats being carried down the street.

Closer inspection reveals that this is a huge religious sculpture/personage being carried on the shoulders of a huge group of men.

Another one, being carried on the backs of a large group of men in traditional clothing.

As I get closer to the front of the cathedral, I see that there are many more similar religious statues lined up, waiting to be carried in the parade. That is the cathedral on the left.

A close-up view of one that is just being carried from the front of the cathedral.

Just the large wooden beams alone (resting on their shoulders) look extremely heavy. I cannot imagine what this must weigh.

And another one, waiting to be carried into the parade.

More of the crowd, waiting for the parade. The front part looks “not crowded” because that is the street where the parade is moving.

As I started to leave, I walked by many more of these religious statues. They all have banners and signs in front of them, indicating which famous figure they represent.

One last look from the side of the cathedral, back down the street toward the San Pedro Market (about 10 minutes away on a normal day).

Pisac – In The Sacred Valley

I arrived in Pisac just before midday on May 2, 2014. Not knowing much about the town, I grab the first economical hospedaje (small hotel) that I can find. It is an older place called “Kinsa Cocha”. My room was very dark and cold, and the internet not so reliable. In the morning, when the power was off in the hotel, but not in nearby areas, I packed up my belongings and moved to another place that I found – a place that was cheaper and much nicer.

This is a photo taken on May 3, from just in front of my room at “Hosepdaje Wilcamayu”. I was in a second-floor room, on the end, with beautiful facilities, paying only about $13.00 US per night (35 soles).

This is my bedroom. Bobby and Brenda are enjoying the pillow view. It took me a while, but I eventually learned that the WIFI internet only worked in one spot, just to the left of the bed (not visible in this thumbnail image.) I later decide to leave this hotel because the WIFI router has serious problems, and the manager will not let me reset it when it freezes up – leaving me without internet for half-day increments.

This is one of the views from my balcony, looking across the roof on the other side of the hotel.

Another mountain view, with those cute little statues on the roof that bring blessings and good luck.

And another mountain view visible from just outside my doorway. The lighting is not very good in these photos, but the mountains can be quite beautiful here.

On May 4, 2014, I decided to explore the “Plaza De Armas” in Pisac. But rather than being a town square, it has become what is mostly a “tourist market”. The market in Pisac is a large tourist attraction. Tour buses and vans arrive here daily, throughout the morning and early afternoon, and the area is swarming with travelers from around the world (as well as some locals trying to purchase food).

You can see the mix of tourists and local people … and the tourists have their cameras ready. Today, I pretended to be a tourist, using my camera more freely than normal.

While the first two photos were of produce and fruits being sold, most of the Pisac market is selling textiles, clothing, and other souvenirs.

The indigenous woman in the bottom right is carrying a baby alpaca in her left arm. She is one of many who wander around, allowing people to take her photo for a small price.

As I walked through the market, I heard loud celebration coming from the nearby church (on the plaza). Since the door was open, I walked inside to observe.

They were just beginning a small parade. Others were taking photos, so I did the same.

The procession walked on flower petals as it made its way out into the plaza.

More of the procession.

A large group of young boys follows behind.

Just trying to capture everything I can …

When it was over, all the women and young girls scrambled to pick up as many of the flower petals as they could. It looked as if they were taking them home. This young girl in the front has filled her sweater with the petals.

This woman has filled the front part of her skirt with the petals.

More of the same.

A cute young girl.

Back out in the market. A small sampling of the goods available.

There is a huge variety from wood carvings, clothing, textiles, crystals, and many other things.

This woman in the fruit area is wearing a very traditional outfit. I love their hats.

More traditional outfits.

A group of local women selling their vegetables.

And more of the same.

A view down the main street in town. This runs from the East side of the market back down to the river, where there is a small highway that runs up and down the Sacred Valley. Most of the main shops are along this and a few other streets.

Tourist buses and vans actually drive up this street as they bring passengers to see the market. When they do so, you have to clear completely out of the way.

A closer view of the street. Most all of the little streets around here are just like this one, having a little runoff ditch in the center. The moto taxis and cars have to be careful when crossing over the ditch.

The same street, further down.

As I walked, the procession from the church passed by.

These boys were carrying and occasionally blowing on conch shells.

A much sharper image of the procession. I find the men’s hats to be quite interesting.

Closer view of the men with their hats.

A sampling of transportation options in town.

A young boy leads another horse down the street.

Both horses are visible in this image. This is not an everyday sight, but it is not uncommon.

A very typical building. you can see the white streak down the front where new electrical wires were put into the adobe walls and then patched over.

The famous Pisac Ruins are up on top of this mountain. I still have not been up there. The Hospedaje Wilcamayu (where I stayed for a week) is just down this street on the right.

Moto taxis are everywhere. (In Guatemala we called them Tuk Tuks.) Here, because of the cold, they are enclosed.

The outside of my Hospedaje. My room is on the balcony, just behind and to the right of the wooden doorway.

Another view of my room (top left). It is extremely common here for unfinished construction to be left like this, with rebar just hanging out – leaving the potential for future add-ons. And it is also quite normal that the adobe or block walls are left in their raw state.

The next pictures were taken on the next day, May 5, 2014. I was walking out to the community of Taray, which is about a 45 minute walk. I decided to check out a Shaman (Alonso Del Rio) that lives in the area. He lives up a little valley behind Taray. This is a mountain view along the path.

Another beautiful view along the path.

This is Alonso’s property. I did one ayahuasca ceremony here. It was COLD, but a very nice ceremony.

Looking back down the valley, toward the little community of Taray.

One of the main streets in Taray, as I begin to walk back to Pisac.

More typical adobe construction.

The church in Taray.

The same church, with the town square (Plaza de Armas) in front.

Local people working in their fields as I walk back toward Pisac.

They appear to be working with a very popular variety of corn that is all over Peru – I think they call it “chocle” in the markets. It has huge kernels that are quite tough. I am not a big fan from the few times I tried eating it at the Temple of the Way of Light near Iquitos.

Looking back at Taray from the road that leads to Pisac.

Along the road back to Pisac … which is up against the mountain in the distance.

It is not really visible in this photo, but Pisac is at the foot of that center mountain.

A zoomed-in look at a mountain on the west side of Pisac. I later do a couple of ceremonies right over there.

This is a little footbridge that crosses the river, leading to the highway on the other side. That highway is the one that runs up and down the Sacred Valley. The one where I am standing right now is a smaller one that runs between Pisac and Taray. There are huge rocks placed on either side of the bridge, preventing the little moto taxis from trying to cross. On my way back to Pisac, I decided to try a different route, and I crossed the river here.

The place where I later did ceremonies is almost directly across the valley from this bridge. From here, it is about a 20 minute walk to the center of Pisac.

Looking directly across the foot bridge. It won’t happen till early July, but I am buying a refrigerator from a woman who lives less than a hundred feet to the left of where I am standing when I take this photo.

Looking down at the large river that runs by Pisac. That terraced area on the side of the mountain (center of photo) is the lower part of the Pisac Ruins that are actually on top of the mountain.

This is a zoomed-in photo of that area. (Sorry for the poor lighting).

Looking from the footbridge directly down at the river. Pisac is off to the left, in the distance.

One of the signs as I enter Pisac from the other side of the river.

The road to/from Cusco zigzags up the hill in the background, climbing up and over the mountain, rising in elevation about 1400 feet.

A cute little plaza on the northwest end of Pisac.

Nearby pigs running free in the same area.

More pigs. The woman appears to be leading them somewhere

Another view looking up toward the mountain.

Walking along one of the streets in Pisac.

And another…

More typical views in this beautiful little town. This is looking up the street toward the market (two blocks away). It is hard to see, but I occasionally eat at a restaurant about a block and a half up, on the left – one called “Ulrike’s”. It is a popular hangout for gringos.

In fact, this photo is taken from the rooftop terrace on top of Ulrike’s restaurant.

These next few photos were taken on the next day (May 6, 2014) as I ride in a minivan on my way to Cusco. It is extremely difficult to get a clear, in focus photo from the moving van. I was trying to capture a few scenic photos of Pisac, taken from the road that winds up the mountain.

This image is of the eastern side of Pisac. The area in the upper-left center is called Rinconanda, where I began living on May 24. At the exact left center edge of this photo is another little house where I lived for 10 days as I tried to house sit and take care of two cats. I had to leave there because of allergies.

This is also taken from the van. The left center area of the photo is the eastern part of the main community of Pisac. The Hospedaje Wilcamayu where I lived for a couple of weeks is on the right side of that populated area. To the right of that is open fields. I usually walk along that mountain side at least once per day.

This final photo taken from the van is of the western side of Pisac.

On May 12, 2014, I did a ceremony at Diego Palma’s facility (I have done two ceremonies there). This is a photo of the inside of his ceremonial space – a large round room with a huge sacred geometry “Flower of Life” painted on the floor. The floor is theoretically heated, but it only helps a little. I was still very cold in these ceremonies.

On May 10, 2014, after living in Hospedaje Wilcamayu for a week, I moved into this first little house on the left. It belongs to a man who is an astrologer and an author. He was leaving for three and a half weeks on a book tour, and needed someone to rent his house and to take care of his two cats. It felt perfect (and I still believe it was) – but I quickly began to have strong allergic reactions to his kitties. After 10 days, I had to move out. I could hardly breathe. My sinuses swelled up so badly that it turned into a mucus adventure that lasted several weeks.

I loved the little house, but it was too small and too covered in cat dander. It had a tiny living room and open kitchen in the downstairs, and a tiny loft and bathroom upstairs.

Another view of the house (first on left). It was about a fifteen minute walk from town.

This sports complex was nearby, across a small river.

More of the sports complex, as seen from the house.

To get to town, I first walked around this sharp bend in the road…

… then down around this bending area …

… down this longer and straighter section.

A view along the way, looking to the left.

That is Pisac, in the distance.

One of the fields along the way.

And a group of homes that appear to be unfinished.

And finally, arriving to the populated part of town.

I frequently walk down this street. It is quite near to the previous photo. In the early morning and later afternoons, it looks a lot like this. During the daytime, when tourists are here, the booths are crowded with goods for sale.

The man on the right is beginning to set up his booth.

Another street in Pisac.

Every night the vendors pack up their wares and haul them away. Every morning they bring them back and set up again. These large bags are filled with beautiful merchandise.

More setting up the market.

In this photo, I have passed completely through the market, and am leaving town on the other side. Today is the beginning of another adventure.

I am walking out to Paul Temple’s house (in the far distance on the right, against the mountain). In the foreground is a huge field of drying corn.

The path takes me up the north/west side of town, past that old church that you can barely see at the end of this road.

This appears to be a small school. Lots of children are entering as I walk by.

A closer view of the old church. I walk on a small path to the left of it.

More corn drying in the fields.

Looking back behind me, a zoomed-in photo off men placing corn out to dry.

Some of the corn. These are huge ears with very tough (to me anyway) kernels.

I am following that path that runs above the field, and the bottom of the mountains.

Looking back up at the mountain above Pisac.

Apparently, this property is part of the Archeological Park of Pisac, but I see no ruins down here. The ruins are at the top of the mountains behind me.

A beautiful view with a barn full of horses in the foreground. I am headed to the far distance.

A closer look at a few horses. (Sorry for the bad focus).

Continuing down the path (about a 20 minute walk).

This area is gorgeous.

Looking back at the horse barn. Pisac is disappearing in the background.

Some bovines grazing in the fields. Apparently, both the males and females (cows and bulls) have horns.

Further down the path. I am headed to the house that is barely visible in the upper right center.

Looking across the valley, back toward Pisac.

Finally arriving at Paul Temple’s beautiful property. He is turning this into a retreat center with beautiful facilities and gardens.

Looking back toward Pisac from Paul’s property.

Looking to the right, toward Taray, again from Paul’s property.

Looking straight across the valley at a gorgeous mountain. If you click on the photo and enlarge it, you can see the little footbridge from earlier photos. It is near the right side of the photo, with a little blue color in front of it, and some trees to the right.

The ceremonial space (where ceremonies begin). I am here to do a ceremony with a new plant medicine – one called “San Pedro” in Spanish. But the locals in Peru call it Wachuma or Huachuma (both spellings seem common). It is a medicine made from a cactus, and is quite prominent in the shamanic traditions of the Andes.

These are young San Pedro cacti.

Some of Paul’s beautiful garden space.

My friend Rocio. I first met her in Guatemala, on Keith’s porch, at a cacao ceremony. She arrived in Pisac fairly recently.

More of the garden areas.

Some of those gathered for the ceremony.

Another similar photo, but this one includes ME (front left).

More views on Paul’s property.

From above, looking down at the property.

Another photo from above. Paul is the man with the tan jacket and silver hair. I see him as “Gandalf”.

Another San Pedro cactus. This one is more mature (in a size way).

Inside the beautiful windowed room to the right is a fireplace. It gets quite cold here when the sun goes down.

A similar view.

Visiting and waiting.

Another view of this majestic mountain.

More scenery.

A cluster of San Pedro cacti inside the window room.

Getting creative with beautiful foreground.

And more of the same.

The flowers here are incredible.

Taray in the distance.

Such variety and vibrant colors.

In the ceremony space, preparing to drink. Many of us met here yesterday to help make this medicine. We peeled off the waxy outer layer, harvested the more green parts of the cactus, and then Paul cooked it throughout the day …

It was a beautiful ceremony. I will write details in a future blog.

Ten days later, on May 24, this woman stopped me on the street. She was all excited. She told me she knew me from Keith’s porch in Guatemala. She is a friend of my friend Annetka from Canada. I first met Annetka in Valladolid, in the Yucatan, when I was recovering from a third degree burn on my foot.

This is Annetka’s friend (and now my friend) Carolina. I borrowed this photo from her Facebook page.

Longer Term Quarters

On May 21, 2014, my allergies got to be so bad that I have to move out of the little house where I was taking care of the cats. I moved back to Hospedaje Wilcamayu for two days. But their internet was so bad I soon moved to yet another hostel for one night. Finally, on May 24, I rented a more stable room in a local shared house with seven bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a shared kitchen. I paid for a month and moved in. Soon, on July 5, I will be moving again, to my own private rented house in a nearby town called Calca. But today, I am still living here in this house.

I started out in this room, and lived here until just a few days ago.

Now, I am in this room. The first room got no sun, and was always cold. It seemed that the adobe walls served to insulate the room in a reverse way, keeping the heat out and the cold in. My new room gets sun in the morning and in the afternoon. I love it much more.

I took these photos just this morning. This is the view looking out the window that sits by my bed, taken as the sun was starting to peek over the mountains.

This is the view looking out my balcony door. Note, there are no guardrails on the balcony.

If I step out onto my balcony, this is the view looking to the left.

Each room has its own private entrance. This is the door into my new room. I am standing in a common balcony/patio area. Currently, there is no furniture here, because a worker has been painting for a few days. That should be done today.

These are two women walking on the street below me as I am taking photos.

I walked down to the street below and took this photo of the house where I am living. My present room is the upper one on the left. My former room was in the back, on the right, never getting any direct sun. The sun rises on the left and sets behind me (from where I am standing).

This is the street below the house, as it heads back to Pisac. The little house where I lived in early May is on the way back to Pisac, less than ten minutes away. My walk from here to Pisac is about 20 minutes.

Photo Wrap Up

This ends my photo post for today. It is now time to write about my ceremonial experiences here in Pisac. Soon, I will continue with more than a thousand other photos from trips to Machu Picchu and Lake Titicaca (both Bolivian and Peruvian sides).

But those blogs will be on another day.

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

 

This post contains photos from my short stay in Cusco, Peru. I arrived there on April 29, 2014,  and stayed there for four nights. While there, I did a little shopping to replace my slacks that no longer fit after losing more than thirty pounds. But mostly, I played tourist, starting to get familiar with the city and taking a few local tours. I also took the time to investigate, make plans, and purchase tickets to visit Machu Picchu for the end of May.

This post contains 108 photos, including detailed narratives.

As usual, the photos in this post are thumbnail images. Please click on any photo to enlarge it. The thumbnails leave much to be desired as far as colors and resolution – plus the thumbnails clip all of the edges. I use thumbnails for the post itself, because it gives people an opportunity to get a summary glimpse without downloading huge amounts of data for the high-res photos.

CLICK ON ANY PHOTO TO ENLARGE TO HIGH RESOLUTION

Cusco Plaza De Armas

After arriving in a light rainstorm, on the afternoon of April 29, 2014, I was mostly interested in finding an economical place to sleep and chowing down on a meal. These tasks took me most of the afternoon, so I did not begin my photo-taking quest until the next morning. The first place I visited was the “Plaza De Armas”, with is the central town square of the old historical section of Cusco. Nearly every city in Peru has a similar central square that is also called “The Plaza De Armas”.

This is a photo taking from in front of the Cusco Cathedral, looking generally toward the northwest. The center of Cusco is approximately 11,152 feet above sea level (about 3399 meters). Having just arrived from Iquitos, which is only around 350 to 400 feet above sea level (104 to 130 meters), this was quite a dramatic adjustment as far as altitude and temperature.

I was already quite tired and weak after finishing my three month retreat in Iquitos, so I found walking around at this altitude to be quite the physical adventure. I am proud of myself because I paced myself and did not have any problems with altitude sickness (as is somewhat common here).

The city has about a half million residents, and is nestled in a high mountain valley, surrounded by many hills like those in the background, with a few taller mountains in the distance.

This photo was taken from about the same spot (after simply turning around). This is the main cathedral in town. It is normally not open to tourists who have not purchased special expensive tickets, but early on the next morning, I was able to enter for free by attending the last part of a large Catholic Mass … it is beautiful inside (but no photos are allowed).

An the adjacent corner (just to the south of the cathedral) is another church. This is the “Iglesia de La Compania de Jesus”.

This photo is taken from the same spot, but looking mostly toward the west. The edge of the church from the previous photo is barely visible on the left.

Standing in the park, looking toward the northwest. The hotel where I stayed is about a block and a half away from the far end of this path. If you look closely, you can see the fountain on the right. This is right in the center of the plaza.

More or less the same photo as the previous one, just zoomed in more, showing the far end of the plaza.

Standing on the west side of the plaza, looking back at the cathedral.

Cusco City Tour

I made a quick decision to take a two-hour city tour on this double-decker bus.This one lasted a couple of hours and cost 20 Soles (about $7.50 US).

In this photo, I am sitting in the front of the bus, looking back up the street. My hotel is about a block and a half down this street, and then to the right … very convenient for visiting the historic area.

Another view of the cathedral, taken from the bus as my tour is beginning.

Another view taken from the bus, looking toward the San Blas area of Cusco. If you enlarge the photo and look at the top of the hill … there is a large cross up there with a large white statue of Christ. My tour will take me up there in a while.

Another look to the northwest. You can see what appear to be at least twenty-five large antennas on that hill.

A large interesting building somewhere near the Plaza de Armas.

Another unique building that appears to have used a large number of the old Inca Stones in building its foundation.

A church as we head up toward the top of the hill from a few photos back.

I think this is an Alpaca (but maybe it is a Llama), grazing in the church grounds.

Taken from near the top of the hill, this is a look back at a small section of Cusco.

Taken from the same place, looking at a different section of Cusco, with less zoom.

And another similar photo.

Sacsaywaman is one of the famous ruins in the Cusco area. On this tour, we simply drove by and stopped at a view area, seeing it from afar. Later, I will take a tour that takes me into the park.

A view of Sacsaywaman from the road. What remains today is mostly a series of beautiful, intricate walls constructed by the ancient Incas.

Another view of Sacsaywaman, taking from afar with a zoom lens.

And another. This wall (and the previous photo) are on a different hill … not the main wall in Sacsaywaman.

A different view from the road. The walls in this photo are much more spectacular, with the intricate placement of stones that are so well fit together that you cannot stick a knife blade between them.

Another similar photo, with a little more zoom.

Hard to see in this zoomed in photo (taken from a long distance away) … but I find the way these stones are place together to be quite fascinating.

This is an “un-zoomed” photo taken from the bus … showing how far away I was when taking some of these photos.

It is a common custom in this part of the world to place statues on the roof. They are a blessing of good luck on the house.

This is the same “white Christ” statue that I mentioned in a previous photo (on top of the hill as seen from way down below).

Looking back at Sacsaywaman with another angle.

A less zoomed photo of the Christ Statue.

This view of Sacsaywaman is taken from the view area at the Christ statue itself.

And another, more zoomed the before.

Me, at the view area of the Christ statue, with the city of Cusco in the background. You can see that I am all bundled up in this photo. I purchased this coat in Mexico City while visiting there in October, 2009, and I am so grateful I brought it with me. In this photo I am well over 12,000 feet in altitude, and it is approaching Winter here (equivalent to the end of November in the US) …

My hotel room was so freezing at night that I had to ask (and pay extra for) a tiny electric heater that barely added a little heat. Most places in this part of the world do not have any inner heating systems (unless they have a wood fire), and the temperatures drop most nights to near freezing. Three heavy blankets could keep me warm in bed, but a scurry to the bathroom was like running into a freezer.

Another view of Cusco in the valley below. The airport is in the far left of the photo. The Plaza de Armas would be a way off to the right of this photo.

A close-up of the Christ statue. It is starting to get colder with the cloud cover. I now fully understand why the Incas worshiped the Sun. When the sun goes down here, it can shift from toasty warm to freezing cold in just a matter of minutes.

Near the Christ statue are these three more simple crosses, decorated in a traditional Inca (Quechua) way. It is an interesting mix of Christianity with old tradition.

This is my tour bus, with part of Sacsaywaman in the background (taken from in front of the Christ statue).

Vendors such as this one are all over the more touristy places of Cusco.

A view of one of the roads as we descend back toward the valley. I go down this same hill whenever I return to Cusco (from Pisac) for a shopping or travel visit.

A closer view of the same scene.

Another view further down this winding, zigzagging road.

Just as in other parts of Latin America, the electrical lines here can be quite the mishmash maze.

It is quite common to see crosses here decorated with traditional Inca clothing.

A small monument at one of the major intersections as we near the Plaza de Armas.

I love how the stop lights (at least most of them) here have a countdown timer that indicates how many seconds remain before the light changes color.

Another narrow street that is quite typical of the area.

And another one, this one crowded with traffic.

Walking Tour of Cusco

After the morning bus tour, I returned to my hotel, repacked a few items in my day bag, and set off on foot, having no idea where I might end up.

This is my hotel. I paid about 80 soles ($28 US) here. I could have found a slightly cheaper room further away, but I loved everything about this place, and decided to enjoy myself.

I ended up walking to “Qorikancha” – an interesting combination of Incan ruins over which were built Catholic church buildings. This is about a twenty minute walk from the Plaza de Armas. The large wall below the church is original, part of an old Inca Temple.

A closer view of the wall. Some of the rocks have begun to separate and/or decay, but many are still in perfect condition.

This is one of the better sections of the wall where the stones fit together perfectly (these are quite large).

A self-taken photo of me (not the best one in the world) standing in front of another such wall.

And another section of wall. These last few photos are taken inside the building. I decided to pay the small admission price…

Also inside the Catholic building. Some of the old Inca walls were preserved.

From inside the building, you can walk around the outside. This photo is some of the garden below. In the earliest photos, I was down in this garden, taking photos looking up.

More beautiful stonework in the modern day structure (I’m not sure how much may be original, and how much was redone later).

Back inside the building (Qorikancha), a view of an old preserved Inca room, taken from the second floor. As I understand it (I did not pay for a tour guide), this part is original.

Some artwork on the upper floor. I believe this is traditional Shipibo, probably showing the geometry of an “Icaro” (song sung in an ayahuasca ceremony).

Another photo … slightly different angle of same one from above.

Two Quechua women, dressed in traditional clothing, earning money by allowing people to take photos. This is quite common all over this area – but usually they are carrying little baby Alpacas (there are a couple of baby Alpacas at their feet).

After leaving the Qorikancha building, I walked down a section of the same original Inca walls (but outside). These are in excellent condition.

Close-up of the wall (a tiny section anyway).

And another. I tried, but could not slip anything into these cracks.

After leaving this Qorikancha area, I continued to walk South. I ended up exploring for a few hours in the hot sun.

This is just part of a large fountain on a major intersection.

Looking back at the large intersection and fountain. I believe this is the intersection between Avenida Tullumayo and Avenida El Sol.

Not sure what this monument is called, but I believe this is an intersection called “Ovalo De Pachacuteq”. I am so tired and hot by now, that I decide to turn around. I later learn that I am very near the bus stations. It takes about an hour to walk back to my hotel from this spot.

I did not realize it till later, but I barely avoided a serious sunburn (just a nice pink that was dry and sore, but quickly turned to tan over the next few days). The sun at this altitude is quite strong.

Cusco Day 2 – Another Tour

I did not know it till later, but there is another tour that also costs only 20 Soles (plus 70 soles for tourist admission to the ruins), so before the end of my first full day, I purchase a ticket to begin that tour early on May 1, 2014 (on my second full day). These next photos are from that tour.

But first, as I went to meet up with the bus, I stopped to explore some type of “Labor Parade”. I was not sure if it was a protest, or some type of holiday. I later figured out that May 1 is some type of Labor holiday here in Peru.

At any parade in Cusco, there always seems to be a large police presence. These officers are standing in front of the cathedral.

People on the steps of the cathedral, celebrating the “First of May”.

Soon, my tour started, and our first stop was inside the ruins of Sacsaywaman. (Seen from afar yesterday). They are much more interesting up close.

Our tour guide and his daughter. He spoke briefly, and then turned us loose to explore for an hour.

Beautiful stonework in these walls. Those large stones at the base are HUGE. There is a person standing in the shadows with a white t-shirt, just to give you a comparison.

And even with these huge stones, there are no visible cracks between them – all built with no mortar.

And another view of the same section of wall. (closer up)

Another piece of wall, with smaller stones (but still quite large). They used all kinds of odd shapes, but managed to fit them together perfectly.

From on top the wall, looking down.

Me, attempting another view. The sun was bright, and I was a little pink, so I wore my hat and sunglasses.

A view from across the open field, looking back at the walls.

Looking up at the Christ statue (zoomed) from Sacsaywaman.

Similar, also taken with a strong zoom.

More of the walls.

My tour bus for the day, in the Sacsaywaman parking lot.

A lady wanting to sell things to people on the bus.

Looking back at the ruins from a slightly different angle.

Looking back at Cusco as we approach our next stop (Q’enqo).

Q’enqo is a smaller ruin, just up the road.

Our tour guide and his daughter standing in front of some type of sacred rock (sorry, I don’t remember the details).

We went through narrow passages to get down into the core of the ruins. I hear that from above, this tunnel appears to be a snake.

Down inside the ruins, preparing to enter another sacred tunnel.

People from the group ahead of us, disappearing into the tunnel.

In total darkness, taken with a flash. This rock table has a sacred story, but I remember nothing of the details.

Back outside, still at Q’enqo, preparing for our next journey … another view of Cusco from above.

Walking back to meet our bus … Cusco in the far background.

And a better view of Cusco from the trail.

Our next stop is Tambomachay. Another small sacred Inca site, just up the road.

A traditionally-dressed woman with a couple of alpacas.

The ruins of Tambomachay.

One of the most famous things here is the water spring. It is blocked off so we could not go closer.

Another view. These are small ruins, with historical significance.

Our tour guide (and daughter) in front of the springs.

Me, in the same spot.

Just across the way, is another part of the ruins. It is a fire platform. A fire lit on this platform can be seen from Pucapucara (next stop), a fire in Pucapucara can be seen in Q’enqo, and a fire in Q’enqo can be seen in Saqsaywaman, and a fire in Saqsaywaman can be seen in Cusco … thus a type of signaling system.

In this photo, I am standing on the fire platform, looking back down the path that leads to the ruins.

Standing in the same place, looking at the ruins that have the small spring. This is pretty much all there is in this location.

Next, we take a quick drive to Pucapucara, which is between Tambomachay and Q’enqo. It was dark when we arrived, and the driver almost didn’t let us go in … but I asked and he said yes. I ran in quickly and just took a couple of flash photos. This is the entrance path to the center of the ruins.

Looking up at the ruins. I didn’t spend much time here, because they are small, not much to see, and no light to see them.

As I walked back to the bus, I snapped a quick photo of the sign near the entrance. Here they spell it “Pukapukara” … Peru is interesting because everything has so many potential spellings, and they are all used and all seemingly accepted. For example Cusco can also be Cuzco, and quite commonly is. The original Quechua word (ancient Inca language) was Qosco.  And Picac (where I live right now) is often spelled Pisaq. Both are correct.

The other sign as I go back to the bus.

Cusco Wrapup

This is the end of my Cusco photos. I do spend one more day here in Cusco, but I don’t take any more photos. On the final day I purchase new slacks and then research and later purchase tickets to Machu Picchu (for the end of May). On the day after that, I take a rickety old bus to the Sacred Valley, where I begin my stay in Pisac.

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

(Note, this is the eighth and final post in this series. In this writing, I share the incredible healing of the last six days of my three month stay at the “Temple of the Way of Light”, and my subsequent final two weeks in Iquitos …)

This last week has been extremely productive in freeing my self from old emotional chains. I continue to work with metaphors from “The Little Mermaid” – metaphors of me being Ariel, having given up my heart voice in an effort to be normal and to fit in to the human world. It seems that on a daily basis, the flow of guidance takes me ever deeper into the healing emotions related to having lost my voice.

It is Thursday, April 10, 2014 – the eighth day of my final integration period at the Temple of the Way of Light. I find it hard to believe that I will be leaving here in five short days. But I am hardly thinking about leaving. Instead, I continue to dive ever deeper into ongoing healing processes. I sense that I am on the cusp of a deep breakthrough.

Late on this beautiful morning, I listen to another Matt Kahn video. But as I do so, I feel deeply disconnected. Meanwhile, I overhear (through the wall) the obvious sounds of my neighbor texting furiously on her phone. Without even seeing her, I feel her anger, frustration, and anxiety, and can only assume she is trying to deal with an emotional problem back home. I am so glad that I have opted to remain totally “off the grid” during my time here.

As I continue listening to Matt Kahn on my IPOD, I am shocked when I begin to feel deep anger. I believe it is anger about his message of needing to “love everyone”.

Anger At Loving

Confusion consumes me. It makes no sense to feel angry about someone telling me I need to send love to everyone. But as I meditate deeper, I realize that the emotion is not me, it is just more old emotion triggered in my field – emotion that wants to surface, be felt, and be released.

As I attempt not to identify with the emotion – trying to remain unattached – I sink into a weird mood. I continue to gently observe myself, and do not get totally lost in the unexpected wave of feelings – but this feels like something deep and core.

During lunch, I visually observe my neighbor as she continues to text in the dining hall. I find deep validation in my earlier empath sensitivity. Everything I had empathically perceived through the wall is now quite obvious as I see her face and even hear her utter a muffled swear word when she reads a texted response. Her frustration and anger are obvious. I send her love and return to my own processing.

As I eat my lunch, I am fully aware that this afternoon will be the final “Love Space” improv comedy activity. You may recall that at the end of my final workshop, several friends had attempted to get me to commit to attending. I have been on the fence about it for more than a week.

I go inside and check with my heart. After several minutes of deep reflection, it is obvious to me that working with this “anger-at-having-to-love-emotion” is a much higher priority for me right now. Guidance tells me to return to my room and to spend the afternoon processing.

Empath Awareness

After returning to my room, I sit down to begin processing through the odd anger. Suddenly, I remember to ask what should be an obvious question by now: “Is this anger even mine?”

“No,” the answer bounces back as intuitions again take me back to memories of this morning when the anger first started. I realize that it was precisely when I sensed my neighbor’s anger and frustration while she noisily texted someone from the other side of my bedroom wall.

“My neighbor is angry and upset about something,” I ponder with a compassionate giggle. “The odd anger I have been feeling is coming from her. I am feeling her emotions and believing them to be mine, just as I have done with people my whole life.”

As soon as I express my intent to disconnect from this anger, I suddenly feel peace. The anger I have been feeling is gone, and a sense of underlying joy returns to my heart.

A quick check of my watch tells me that there is still time to go to the improv comedy class if I want to. I again go inside to check guidance. Again the answer is “No, don’t go … stay in my room and process instead.”

I actually get the feeling that attending the class may only serve to re-traumatize me at this point in time. My heart peacefully reassures me that it is best not to mix my vulnerable energy right now, and to instead remain in my own heart space. As I ponder this concept, I remember many quotes from Rasha about how the most important thing we can do is maintain our own high vibrational state, even if that means staying away from the energy of others.

Even so, I find this debate fascinating, because part of me is demanding that I am wrong not to go to the class, and that I need to be more social, blah, blah, blah …

I choose to listen to my heart. It is only later that I learn that the class was canceled anyway. Only one person showed up.

Meditative Explorations

Soon, I begin meditating in my room. I reflect back to my time in Guatemala, and how Keith always began cacao ceremonies with a simple meditation called “The Glow Meditation”.

That meditation begins with a statement like “Let the smile in your heart find you.”

As I ponder doing this now, I realize that I have never really been able to FEEL this meditation – that I have always turned it into a mental task, trying to “DO” the meditation, always feeling confused by my lack of connecting. I even remember one time when Keith had asked me if I ever wondered why I never feel “The Glow Meditation”. I had felt surprised that he knew that … but we had never discussed my answer.

I close my eyes and go deep inside, trying to allow an inner smile, thinking about happy things such as children, pets, dear friends, and beautiful times in the mountains. I feel some weak, gradually increasing energies, but nothing like my mind tells me I should be feeling. I am still trying to “do” the meditation.

Suddenly, while in this meditative state, I feel intuitive guidance strongly telling me that I need to go into a past life regression. Feelings whisper that part of my emotional and mental stuck-ness comes from a past life.

Regressing To The Past

I have participated in several such past life meditations with Keith guiding the way, and I have even led such meditations for others, with amazing results. But I am a little unsure as to whether I can lead myself in a solo meditation. However, the guidance is so clear that I trust the process and begin to visualize the journey.

I first imagine walking into a large fenced garden with tall, black, iron fencing and elaborate gates. As I walk through the gate, I feel guided to head toward the middle of the large garden, slightly skirting around the right side of the circular middle section. Then I head diagonally to the left, then back to the right, eventually arriving at another huge, black iron gate.

(I want to emphasize that I am not much of a visual meditator. But in this meditation, I do see tiny faint visuals, but I mostly just FEEL them.)

As I imagine opening this gate on the opposite side of the garden, I feel the rusty hinges squeaking. After walking through the gate, leaving the garden, I turn around and close the gate behind me.

When I turn around again, I am engulfed in a thick fog. I feel it strongly, and actually see it faintly. As the fog gradually dissipates, I eagerly look at my feet for clues. I see the feet of what looks like a young boy. Intuitions immediately tell me that this boy is about twelve years old, with dimples in his cheeks and blondish hair that sticks up in the back.

“This is me at age twelve in THIS lifetime,” I immediately recognize with confidence. “This is a present-life regression.”

Social Suicide

As I ask to be taken to the first scene that needs to be explored, I am surprised when I feel myself wearing a bikini and walking up to the city pool in the small town where I lived.

I have shared this story before, but will briefly summarize. At age twelve I was deeply struggling with my transgender status. At the time I did not understand what it was, and was overwhelmed by inner drives to explore and experience life as a female. In the summer before starting seventh grade, I was a paperboy in my small central-Washington (USA) town of around six-thousand residents. One day on my paper route I saw this little bikini in the window of a small store. I had to have it. Before long I had purchased it and was wearing it under my clothing.

After a week or two, I felt obsessed with the idea of wanting to go swimming in my bikini. I resisted the idea for quite some time, but finally, as if unable to control myself, I found myself preparing to do just that. I put on my bikini and a swim cap, rode my bicycle to the local pool, and confidently walked up to the entrance counter. As I naïvely called out my season ticket number, the young boy behind the counter recognized me and, in shock, called out my male name. He was a popular boy from my grade in school.

I panicked, ran into the girl’s dressing room, and momentarily hid in a stall. Seconds later, I ran back out the front door of the pool. The experience was so traumatic that everything that happened after that has been blocked out of memory. The only thing I know about the rest of that day is that (to my knowledge) the police were never called, and no one at school ever teased me about it.

But the damage was done. I flogged myself for my insane stupidity. I absolutely knew that my horrible “gender confusion secret” was now public knowledge, and I hated myself beyond description. I felt as if my life were over … I felt doomed … as if I had literally committed social suicide.

Prior to that day, I had been socially confident and well liked. Yes, I was quite shy and insecure about being creative, but I remember no severe social struggles prior to age twelve.

After that day, I began to be uptight and suspicious of everyone, believing that at any moment someone could reach out and hurt me … tease me … harass me … emotionally destroy me. I isolated, and literally began to live my life with a combination of social dread and self-hatred. While in public, I put on a huge “fake mask” and struggled to portray the image of a normal, happy, young man … but on the inside I was drowning in struggle.

Next Scene Please

And now back to the meditation.

As I feel myself immersed in the middle of that horrible memory, I do so with detachment, not feeling much emotion of any kind. I have dealt with and thought about this memory throughout my whole life. Before I publicly wrote about it in my blog, a couple of years ago, I was terrified to tell a living soul about what a horrible little boy I had been. In fact, I probably had shared that story with less than five people in my entire life.

I have always known that the experience had profoundly altered my social life. And I have always known that I experienced deep emotional trauma as a result. But with all of the healing I have done in the last ten years, I also believed myself to have dealt with this experience as deeply as was necessary.

So when I visualize myself standing in this traumatic scene, not feeling much emotion, I ask my guides to advance my regression on to the next scene. I am stuck in my mind, thinking only at a logical level, and I want to be taken somewhere that will give me a clue as to what I need to work on next.

I HATE YOU

But I am not taken to another scene in my life. Instead, I continue to feel myself cowering in that curtained stall in the girl’s dressing room. I remain emotionally numb, wondering what is next.

Finally, I am shocked when intuitions show me that even with the many repeated times that I have revisited this traumatic scene during my healing journey, that I have NEVER EVER allowed myself to actually FEEL the agonizing emotions that I suppressed on that horrible day. In fact, I don’t even remember what happened next. I pushed everything down and covered it over, locking it away in a dark place – a place that was out of sight and out of mind.

As I continue the visualization, I remain cowering in that dressing room, still unable to feel. As I try sending deep unconditional love to that frightened little boy, I begin to sob, doing so as quietly as possible so as not to disturb my neighbor in the present day.

Gradually the sobbing intensifies as I allow myself to sink ever deeper into the emotion. I sob and sob and sob, while simultaneously feeling deep rage and hatred toward myself.

“You stupid idiot,” I feel the raging self-talk. “You are ruined. Your life is over. You are going to be arrested. You are going to hell. Everyone will know what you did. You have been exposed, busted, and will be seen as the loser, fraud, and pervert that you are! …. I HATE YOU … I HATE YOU … I HATE YOU!”

I remain in this emotion for what feels like forever, possibly an hour or more. The emotion is so intense that I feel like I want to die. All the while, the observer in me cheers me on, congratulating me for finally having the courage to go into this nightmare in a genuine way.

Layer After Layer

In a moment of deep hopelessness and suicidal self-hatred, I ask for help from Higher Sources, begging for assistance in doing what I have never before been able to do. Suddenly, the emotions I am feeling seem to dissolve and simply vanish.

Soon, another layer of deep emotional agony consumes me. I feel it deeply, and again ask for help. As before that layer also transmutes immediately.

Over the next half hour, I process through several more deep layers of absolute self-hatred. I am shocked by the volume of bottled up emotion that continues to surface. Intuitions are clearly guiding this whole process, showing me how this unfelt emotion has been the major source of my social struggles throughout my life. Because I had never actually felt and released this emotion, I have been unknowingly projecting it outward onto others for nearly forty-seven years.

Emotional Repression 101

Finally, when the emotions begin to settle, I ask my guides to take me to the next scene – to events that I have blocked out completely.

I soon feel myself racing out of that dressing room, running to my bicycle, and pedaling away in a panic. I zigzag through the streets of that small town, drowning in anxiety, racing to the same gas station restroom (about a mile away) where I had originally changed into my bikini. I feel myself destroying the bikini, and hiding all the evidence in a nearby trash can.

And then, in an effort at survival and self-protection, I put on a fake smile and go about the rest of my day as if nothing had happened. I finish my paper route feeling emotionally numb, repressing everything. I absolutely have to appear normal so that no one will suspect my evil nature. There is no time or place where it is safe to feel this emotion. There is literally no one with whom I can talk about it. This must be completely bottled up inside. No one else can ever know.

“Wow,” I ponder in deep recognition. “This is the exact time when I put on a mask, saw myself as a complete fraud, repressed all of my joy, and chose to hide from the public spotlight. This is when I tried to become socially invisible … when I began to clench my muscles, to walk pigeon toed, to talk with a stutter … and to hate myself with disgust.”

Of course, for years I have understood the logic of most of this at a mental level. But prior to this moment, in the depths of this present-life regression, I have never experienced it at a heart level – I have never experienced it in a way that actually helped to heal.

An Emotional Mine Field

Again, I ask my guides to take me on to the next scene of this regression. But instead, the meditation seems to have reached an obvious conclusion.

I quickly grab my notebook and scribble as many detailed notes as possible.

“This is the source of my inexplicable anger and annoyance with others who I see as being frauds that wear fake masks,” I scribble in my notes. “All of that is the projection of a twelve-year-old boy’s (my) repressed pain and self-hatred.”

Never before have I allowed myself into the depths of this forbidden anguishing pain. I suspect that there may be more layers to work through, but this is enough for now. Things are starting to make so much sense. I clearly see the series of perfect synchronicities that led me today into this particular meditation and profound insight.

I feel as if I am in a state of shock as I finish my notes at around 5:20 p.m. – as if I just raced naked through an emotional mine field.

“This is an even deeper reason for losing my voice, throwing a blanket over myself and hiding from the world,” I later ponder. “This is a major reason why I have isolated from people my whole life – why I have struggled with hate and judgment of others – why I have been so suspicious of people’s motives – why I have been so sensitive to peoples’ masks and hypocrisy. It was ALL ME – all me projecting my own self-hatred onto an external mirror – all me projecting that this experience had never ended and that others were going to attack and hurt me at any random time.”

Later Ponderings

As I later continue to ponder, I recognize that what I felt today was self-hatred of the deepest suicidal variety. It is obvious that if I had allowed myself to feel the depths of this pain when I was younger, that I likely would not have survived the experience. It makes so much sense that I repressed it, never allowing myself to feel it until now.

Even six months ago, I would likely have gotten deeply lost in this putrid emotion had I allowed myself to feel it at that time – and I likely would not have been fully capable of gleaning the understanding that I was able to feel today.

“I love you Bobby … I love you Brenda,” I repeat over and over throughout the evening. “I love you Bobby … I love you Brenda.”

The Full Gamut

Earlier in this integration period, just a few days ago, I read in “Oneness” by Rasha about how these types of deep “soul journeys to the bottom” are our biggest wish and desire in coming to this earth – that we came here to experience the ‘full gamut of human emotion’ – that we wanted to get totally lost and then find our way back against all odds.

“I did it,” I giggle as I ponder those words. “I made it through the terror and am indeed finding my way back against all odds.”

As I further ponder about those traumatizing events from forty-seven years ago, I remember how oddly obsessed I had been about wearing that bikini to the pool. It went against all logic, yet I had been unable to stop myself from doing it. It was as if something bigger than me had guided and driven me to do it – as if it were an important event that needed to happen in order to shape my future.

I now fully believe that this event was critically important to set me up for the lifetime of experiencing that “full gamut of human emotion.” I truly believe I designed all of those early events as a foundation to set up the emotional journey that my Higher Self wanted me to have. I feel as if I finally understand – and I finally love that little boy (me) exactly as he was, no longer judging him in any way.

Joyful, Liberated, And Free

After dinner, feeling profoundly joyful, I read chapters 37 to 39 of “Oneness” by Rasha. Based on my afternoon journey, these chapters resonate profoundly. There are so many quotable words that I could not possibly choose some over the others. I am almost done with my goal to read the entire book twice during this integration period … and I am so grateful that I am doing it.

I cannot explain the feeling with words, but I know inside that what I did today was profoundly life changing. As I courageously felt those emotions, I sensed old patterns vanishing and leaving me, I knew that dysfunctional fears and projections were literally losing their grip, and I immediately began to feel socially confident, even though no one else was around with whom I could interact at the time.

It blows me away that, in the past, I have mostly discounted the emotions of that swimming pool incident. It is now clearly obvious that every one of my critical social issues had stemmed from that event – yet for decades I continued to minimize and gloss over the emotions – not understanding how much they still ruled my life – believing that I would have to carry my social struggles with me to the grave.

As I prepare to go deeper into after-dinner evening meditations, I feel liberated and free for the first time in forever.

A Surprise Celebration

While sitting on my bed, intuitions guide me to do an “eighth chakra” meditation – one I learned from Keith a few years ago.

After basking in the already-joyful energy, I visualize myself climbing a spiral staircase to the top of my head, opening a hatch in my crown, and pushing the up button on the door of a nearby metaphorical elevator. When the elevator arrives and the doors open, I step inside, push the top button, and begin to rise.

As the elevator reaches its destination, Archangel Michael greets me as if we are old buddies. We walk arm-in-arm across a rainbow bridge to a temple-like structure filled with my Higher Dimensional friends. A feeling of joy permeates my soul.

To my delight, as the meditation continues, my parents’ Higher Selves join me as the four of us walk inside the temple doors. Inside, I discover a surprise party, held in my honor. I feel the presence of the Higher Selves of all my friends, and of those with whom I have struggled and sparred in this lifetime. I join with them in singing “We Are the Champions” as we all give each other high fives, slapping our hands together in celebration and congratulations.

I jubilantly call out “I am awesome and incredible.”

“Is this ego?” I quickly stop to question.

“No,” the answer comes back. “This is much needed self-love and celebration for my progress in waking up. But it is only a resting point … a view area of sorts … and much more remains to be experienced take a look at the site here.”

Encouraged And Guided

As I telepathically visit with my Higher Friends, they confirm to me that they all encouraged and guided me to go to that pool in my bikini … reassuring me that the event had to happen … that it was key to my whole life … that getting as lost as I did kept me grounded in this reality until it was time to wake up to my magic.

As I bask in this beautiful energy, it is all so clear. Literally everything with which I have struggled in my life was critical to my journey. It all served a purpose, and in this moment I can now see it all with pure love.

The meditation continues until well after 8:00 p.m. as the inner shifts, intuitions, and guidance continue to flow effortlessly. Eventually, I attempt to fall asleep, but I am so overwhelmed by the experience that I am unable to relax the magical energies that consume my body.

Giggling Laughter

At one point in the meditation, I hear several of my friends talking and laughing loudly down near the dining hall. As old patterns kick in, and I start to judge, I immediately pull back and reevaluate the situation.

“They are all so happy,” I giggle. “I love each of them so much. Why would that happy noise bother me?”

For the next couple of hours, I find myself giggling repeatedly as I hear frogs, crickets, birds, and other night animals all making extremely loud and “inconsiderate” noises.

“Hasn’t anyone told those frogs, etc, about quiet time,” I ponder with rolling giggles. “Don’t they understand the concept of ‘noble/quiet’ chirping and croaking? Don’t they know how inconsiderate their noise is? They are not following the rules with their instinctual self-expression.”

Wow! This experience and insight brings such beautiful silliness and clarity to my difficult journey with noise and rules. The projecting part of me has always demanded a “rule box” in which to fit and live – a box to protect me from the ‘others’ out there onto whom I had projected my suspicion and self-hatred.

“I love me,” I repeatedly reinforce the experience. “Another key and core emotional layer is now behind me.”

Gratitude overflows with joyful smiles and giggles as finally, at around 11:00 p.m., a restful sleep consumes me.

A Personal Reality

As I go to breakfast on Friday morning, April 11, 2014, it is obvious that I am very different. I feel happier, more confident, and (at least for now) unaffected by the energies of others. I feel so much more relaxed, casual, calm, and social.

I spend the morning meditating with another half dose of cacao in my system. I continue to reflect on the profound healing of the last few days. I go back in time, wondering why, at least as far as I know, that the young man behind the pool counter never said a word to anyone.

“Why were there never any external repercussions as a result of that traumatic swimming pool incident?” I search deeply. “Why were my parents never called? Why did my classmates never tease or taunt me about it?”

I remember that back in 1983, at my ten-year High School reunion, I had actually approached that same young man (the one behind the counter at the swimming pool).

“I want to apologize for that incident at the swimming pool,” I told him, intentionally leaving out all the details.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he had replied to me.

I dropped the conversation at that point and never discussed it again, wondering why he didn’t recall the incident.

Today, as I explore this topic, I clearly remember that young man calling out my name when I entered the pool. Yet I know that he seems to have no memory of the incident – or if he does, he was extremely forgiving and never told a living soul.

“Could it be that the entire incident was simply a stage play, only happening in my personal version of reality?” I ponder with curiosity. “Is it possible that in his dimensional reality, that the incident never even happened?”

In my heart, I get a strong feeling that the answer is “Yes … no one else ever knew, because it was a personal event, staged only for me.”

Wrapping Up

Just before lunch, I bump into the three women who have faithfully changed my sheets and cleaned my room during the last three months. Their names are Meis, Kati, and Carina. They seem genuinely sad that I am leaving in a few days. I feel their emotional genuineness. They always make such a big deal with a huge greeting, calling me, “Señora Brenda”. I will miss their shining faces. It seems surreal that they changed my sheets for the last time, just this morning. The day that I arrived here, January 18, 2014, literally feels like lifetimes ago.

After lunch, I go to the white board in the dining hall and officially remove my name from the list of people who are in a state of “mostly silence”. It is time to interact and socialize completely in my final few days.

Before returning to my room, I enjoy several delightful social conversations. I really am totally different, and a couple people tell me that they can see and feel that difference.

In the early afternoon, I finish reading (twice) the final two chapters of “Oneness” by Rasha. As I put the book down, I feel a sense of huge hope for the future – a future in which I get to dream with joyful eagerness and passion.

Later, in a dance therapy class, our instructor has us pay attention to what we can feel in our body. To my delight, I can literally feel everything, at an energetic level, from my nose to my toes. Just four years ago, during my Sun Course in Guatemala (At Las Piramides Del Ka), I remember how incredibly difficult it was to feel energy in most parts of my body. Today, that energy is so alive and radiant.

At dinner, in another deep connecting conversation with a new friend, she tells me that she will never forget me, telling me that I am so courageous.

As I listen to music while drifting off to sleep, I glow from a beautiful and social day. And I have now finished all of my goals – reading Oneness (twice), listening to all ten channeling sessions with Trish, and listening to Matt Kahn videos. These activities have been profoundly triggering and healing – profoundly influential in my process.

A Fuddy Duddy Adult

Early Saturday morning, April 12, 2014, I wake up feeling giggly, but tired. While lying in bed, I feel guided to grab little Bobby bear.

“Let’s play … Let’s play,” Bobby dances on my tummy, demanding my attention.

“I’m just a fuddy-duddy adult who is tired,” I respond in this out-loud-but-imaginary conversation.

“No you’re not,” Bobby-bear giggles back. “You’re a child like me.”

I start to debate, but Bobby’s reasoning is impeccable, and I lose the debate.

“Adults have responsibilities,” Bobby responds, “but you don’t.”

“Adults have to work like slaves, but you don’t. Adults are stuck in conditioning and stories, but you aren’t. Adults have to pay mortgages, and earn money, etc, but you don’t. Adults have fears of the future, but you don’t.”

I laugh and play with Bobby-bear for a while as he animatedly bounces and giggles on my belly.

A Solo Hike

It is time for me to start thinking about the future, and many travel ideas excitedly bounce around in my head. I try to stay out of making plans … simply trusting that I don’t need to make any decisions until the guidance is obvious. Nevertheless, the idea of new adventures is energizing.

I spend the morning enjoying another few hours of delightful socializing, even sharing more of my personal journey with several new friends.

After lunch, I set off on a solo jungle hike, hoping to find the same trail that I traversed with a group in February – the one to the huge tree about an hour away in the jungle. But I quickly learn that this part of the jungle is a mish mash of crisscrossing trails, all leading somewhere, but having no patterns, rhymes, or reasons. I use the sun as a general compass, and am extra careful to pay extremely close attention at every splitting or joining trail. I deeply respect the fact that a storm could come up quickly, blocking out the sun, and that these confusing trails could easily turn into an unsolvable maze. About an hour later, I find my way back to the starting point and return to my room (but not without first stopping at the village of “Tres Unidos” to buy another coconut).

I am glad I returned when I did, because heavy rains do hit at 4:00 p.m., and the skies are now so dark that I would have had a very difficult time using the sun as my guide.

That evening, I retire shortly after dinner. I am tired and ready for an early sleep.

Social Celebrations

Nice energy again fills me as I wake up on Sunday, April 13, 2014. I continue to scour travel books that I borrowed from the Temple library, gleaning tiny bits of information about possible adventure in the near future. I feel like a child preparing to go to an unknown Disneyland, considering all the possibilities, while being attached to none of them.

When I go to breakfast, I end up having so much fun socializing that I do not make it back to my room until after lunch is over.

Perhaps the most important event of the morning is when I walk over to the maestro’s casa. As Francisco meets with me, he does the necessary energetic steps to officially end my plant dieta with “marosa” – the one I had begun on March 22, just three weeks earlier. I am not sure how much the plant helped me during these last two weeks, but there is no doubt that it was a profound influence during the first week, and I know that the food-diet meals of plantains, rice and either fish or chicken were also quite helpful in my journey.

As has been the pattern of the last few days, I feel quite social, and enjoy many beautiful conversations throughout the day. It seems that my social fears and projections have mostly vanished, at least for now. I deeply hope that the shift is permanent.

All Is Perfect

At just after 8:00 p.m., as I attempt to go to bed, I literally am like a child who is going to Disneyland tomorrow. I simply cannot slow down the mind chatter … the excitement … and the desire to plan my future, now.

“Brenda,” I tell myself, “you still have at least a week before you need to make any decisions. So much is going to happen between now and then … what’s your worry?”

I use the above statement to remind me of similar feeling that I had in early April, 2009, about eight weeks before graduating with my Master’s Degree. At that time, in a channeling session, Trish had channeled similar words to me when I was seeking guidance about what to do when I graduated in eight or nine weeks.

One extremely hot topic of mental chatter is the fact that my tourist visa stamp (in my passport) will expire in June, and I would like to remain in Peru for a longer time. I have recently heard that it is getting harder to get permission to stay for extended visits in Peru, and my mind will simply not drop the topic.

“Stop,” I again tell my mind. “I can’t make any of these decisions now. All of my journey is being guided at a Higher Level. Relax … stop worrying … stop trying to plan … stop trying to figure it out. All is perfect.”

Perfect Endings

As I wake up on Monday, April 14, 2014, I find it difficult to believe that this is my final full day here at the Temple of the Way of Light. I spend much of the morning packing up my meager belongings – a large backpack and a carryon suitcase. I am fully packed at 10:00 a.m., leaving the remainder of the day for more delightful socializing.

A couple of those conversations are quite interesting. One young man volunteers that he noticed a huge change in me a couple of days ago. I mention this to another new friend, a woman closer to my age, and she confirms, telling me that I am “giving off a much more relaxed and open energy.”

I love the feedback, and have no trouble accepting it, because I feel the same truth inside of me. It is now more than obvious that the emotion I released just a few days ago, the repressed pain of a hopelessly lost twelve year old, WAS the source of my social uptightness.

For most of my life, I literally saw most people with guarded suspicion. I was wary of everyone until I sensed a kindred energy. Today, I actually enjoyed talking to several people with whom I could not have even carried a conversation just three short days ago.

This final day finishes off with a fun campfire experience. Shortly into the gathering, a huge downpour soaks us all. Were it not for the fact that my suitcases are all packed, and I do not want to have wet clothes tomorrow, I would likely have just danced in the rain with several others. Instead, I opt to follow a group to a nearby shelter. When the rains briefly cease, we return to the fire, but when the intense rains return, I walk back to my room, accompanied by two dear friends.

Tonight has been such a perfect ending to such a perfect healing adventure.

Back To Iquitos

Tuesday morning, a while before breakfast, I carry my bags down to the dining hall. Ninety minutes later, two cargueros (luggage carriers) heave my suitcase and my large backpack on their backs, and we begin the long hike. I find it hard to keep up on what turns out to be a rapid hike for more than a half hour. Finally we reach the small river that leads down to the “Rio Nanay”. More than twenty-five people crowd the large boat – most of whom are either Temple staff members, or are from the work exchange program. I am the only one from my integration group who is actually leaving today. Most of those on this boat are just going in to Iquitos for a temporary change in scenery.

A couple of hours later, the boat drops us off at the port of “Santa Clara.” I share a motorcycle taxi with my friend Diana and another young man from the current workshop group. Thirty minutes later, after a long and bumpy ride over dirt roads, the taxi drops me off on the street in front of the apartment where I lived for a month beginning in mid December. I quickly discover that the apartment is much more expensive when not rented for a full month, so I check a few nearby inexpensive hotels, soon ending up in the “Hostal Colibri”.

Weight And Taxes

A while later, after Diana is settled in to her own accommodations, we meet and go to an afternoon lunch together at “Ari’s Burger” – a popular restaurant on the Plaza de Armas, one that has a lot more than just burgers.

The restaurant also has a large industrial-grade scale in the hallway that leads to their restrooms. Feeling eager, I hop up on that scale, and am quite shocked to learn that during my three months in the jungle, I have lost around thirty pounds.

Later, after a delightful group dinner with many of my new friends, I retire early to my room. I have another pressing task to attend to. Prior to entering the retreat in January, I had prepared my taxes, but the tax program would not let me file because one of the online forms was not yet ready to use. Tonight, I get online, update all the programs and forms, and check the numbers one more time before filing my taxes.

It is late in the evening on April 15, 2014, when I finish this annual task. I can now rest. All pressing tasks have been completed.

Laundry And Typing

Over the next two days I take around 25 pounds of laundry to a nearby full-service Laundromat (half each day). Most of my clothing has been so moist in the jungle that it has a mildew/moldy smell. I also begin the arduous task of plowing through more than 800 emails, most of which are just spam or automatic messages that I do not even need to open.

After two nights in Hostal Colibri, I cannot handle the noise, so on the third day I find a nicer room, about two blocks away. I am at the La Casona Hotel, in a cool and quiet basement, with great internet … and even though the cost is a tiny bit more, I now get free breakfast and drinking water, so it all balances out.

I also begin another long task – that of typing up my handwritten journal. In fact, I spend most of four long days typing up all my scribbled notes. When I am done, I have 124 fully-filled typewritten pages of things to write about in future blogs – a task that feels quite daunting. Not having been online for three months, I am so far behind.

A Profound Benchmark Comparison

On the evening of April 20, 2014 (Easter Sunday), I prepare to meet my friend Jann. I had wanted to do another ceremony at Amaru Spirt – having another encounter with their powerful medicine and with the shaman Roman. But the center is temporarily closed while Slocum travels. With permission, Jann and I have decided that we are both up to doing a tiny private ceremony together, just the two of us, using a batch of ayahuasca that is quite similar to the one that had been so powerful for me back in December. (Note, unless you have considerable experience, it is NOT advisable to drink ayahuasca alone.)

As I take the boat out into the jungle, I am quite shocked by the level of the “Rio Itaya”. The river is at least twenty or twenty-five feet higher than it was in December. The water is now so high that it laps at the doorway of the boat driver’s small house.

The tiny, private ceremony is beautiful and uneventful. I find it fascinating to see how far my journey has taken me. In December, this same (more or less) medicine had been intense and had taken me through overwhelming and chaotic energetic journeys.

Tonight, the experience is gentle but deep, with no purging at all. Rather than energetic chaos, I enjoy a flow of nice, calm visuals. Nothing more, nothing less.

For me, the evening is a profound benchmark comparison, showing me the massive growth that I have accomplished since that difficult New Years Eve ceremony nearly four months ago.

An Ongoing Journey

After a couple days of rest, I then begin the tedious process of organizing, uploading, and posting all of my photos from the last three months. The entire process consumes most of six days.

Finally, on Saturday, April 26, 2014, after not receiving any future guidance for more than ten days, I feel an intuitive push that it is now time to find a local travel agency where I can purchase flight tickets to take me to Cusco. Just over an hour later, I have tickets in hand. I will fly from Iquitos to Lima on April 29, leaving at 8:30 in the morning. Then, after a short layover in Lima, I will catch another flight to Cusco, arriving in the middle off the afternoon.

Later that same evening, I am shocked when, as I try to go to sleep, my body is again extremely tense. As I attempt to relax my body, more layers of intense panic begin to surface.

“Wow,” I ponder with surprise. “This really is an ongoing journey.”

I do not judge the new layer, but simply love myself while allowing it to flow. Finally, around midnight I manage to fall asleep – and I sleep quite soundly.

Peaceful Wonder

I can only giggle when, at 5:30 a.m. on Tuesday morning, April 29, 2014, I am suddenly awakened with a chaotic barrage of three simultaneous alarms – all of which begin within seconds of each other. First, my cell phone begins to beep, then my hotel phone rings, and before I can deal with either of the first two, my computer begins to beep LOUDLY.

I was trying to be extra cautious to make sure I do not miss my flight. The twenty seconds of chaos probably woke up all the neighbors.

Soon, after a short early-morning motorcycle-taxi ride, I arrive at the Iquitos airport shortly after 6:20 a.m., enjoying a rapid and smooth check in for my flight. At just a few minutes before 9:00 a.m., I am finally in the air, soaring above the lush and green Amazon Jungle below me. I feel fascinated by the numerous muddy-brown swollen rivers that snake randomly here and there.

It has been an amazing, adventurous, and profoundly productive four-and-a-half months in the Iquitos area. Since arriving in mid December, I have participated in 29 ayahuasca ceremonies, lost thirty pounds, and established numerous magical contacts and friendships.

But my deepest gratitude is for the unbelievable emotional and spiritual growth through which I have passed. In ways that are virtually impossible to describe or to fully document, I am literally NOT the same person that arrived here in December.

As I soar through the deep-blue, partially-cloudy skies, gradually approaching the crest of the towering Andes Mountains, a sense of peaceful wonder radiates through every cell of my body. I can only eagerly imagine what might happen next.

Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

(Note, this is part seven of what will end up being eight parts. In this writing, I share my experiences from the first half of my third and final integration period during my three month stay at the “Temple of the Way of Light”. One more part will follow …)

Eagerness fills my heart as I wake up on the first day of my final twelve-day integration period at the Temple of the Way of Light. It has been an amazing healing journey, but intuitions tell there is much more to do in my last days here – especially in the area of “finding my voice”. My final days of the last workshop set up a perfect metaphor showing me how I am like “Ariel” in “The Little Mermaid”, having given up my voice as a young child so that I could fit into the human world.

Last night was filled with torrential rains – rains that continue this morning, albeit slightly less intense. As I rest in bed, I meditate in beautiful energy for more than an hour before reading another chapter of “Oneness” by Rasha.

After breakfast and a beautiful conversation with a new friend, I return to my room to read some more. I have decided that during these final twelve days I want to read every chapter of Oneness, twice – and I want to re-listen to all of my favorite Matt Kahn videos.

It is shortly after 12:30 p.m. that four new recruits arrive at the Temple – new participants to join the next workshop that will occur simultaneously with my integration period. I enjoy what has now become a routine, twice-per-month group introduction meeting. This will be the final “people shifting” of my three months here, and I look forward to meeting these new spiritual adventurers. After the meeting, I finish out the afternoon with more reading.

Indigenous Medicines

As I continue the reading on Friday morning (April 4), I absolutely love chapter fifteen of Oneness. It is filled with statements that confirm things I have believed for a very long time – personal truths that I hold dear – truths that I still cannot adequately explain to anyone.

But it is the first part of paragraph three on page 132 that really jumps out at me.

“The use of herbal medicines as practiced by certain indigenous cultures may have the effect of accelerating the cleansing process. The implementation of substances known to heighten the body’s natural inclination to eliminate impurities from its structure is encouraged.”

Wow, I love these words. They seem to deeply encourage exactly what I am doing – working with the indigenous plant medicines of the Amazon such as ayahuasca, marosa, sharo mashu, and others. These are all medicines that do indeed have profound and natural cleansing properties at both the physical and emotional levels.

I am so grateful that I am here, doing what I am doing.

A Magical Flow

After reading, I ponder a couple of strange dreams from early this morning. In the second, I had been back in a chocolate ceremony in Guatemala. Keith had asked me what energies I felt from the woman in front of me. I responded that I felt “fear” in her. Without going into details (I don’t remember many), the dream turned into a very sad and humiliating experience as the woman in front of me essentially attacked my perception. It is only later that I realize this dream was designed to trigger intense emotions surrounding the topic of being afraid to “use my voice to speak my truth”. It is now clear that those emotions needed to be brought to the surface so they could be released.

Later in the morning, I encounter someone who just returned from Iquitos. It seems that a large week-long labor strike is in progress. There is no physical violence going on, but the strikers have covered the streets with broken glass and fires, successfully stopping all traffic and closing all the markets. The discussion reminds me that I am indeed living in a different world down here – but I am delighted that I feel absolutely no fear, and trust that all is well in the greater scheme of things.

As I meditate just before lunch, while light rains continue, I love how I can feel the energy of the rain in my body. The flow of energy that I feel seems to correspond with the flow of the storm. It is magical.

Past Glimpses – New Perspectives

Before bed, I engage in another activity. Beginning on my birthday in 2008, back in Utah, I had the first of what would eventually be ten channeling sessions with my new friend Trish. Tonight, I decide to go back and revisit the past, listening to the first of those sessions – one that had taken place when I was deeply struggling with intense childhood emotion – emotion that had arisen while attempting to write my life story.

The listening experience is fascinating. It gives me a profound glimpse into a version of me just over six years ago. It is literally as if I am reliving the past with a new perspective. As a result of this enlightening experience, I commit that I will listen to all ten of those sessions, at least one per day over the next week and a half.

I do not yet know it, but the combination of re-reading Oneness, listening to Matt Kahn, and listening to these channeling sessions, is destined to be a profound catalyst in my growth.

Later, after dinner, I can only giggle as I notice that the security guard has somehow acquired a new stash of lanterns, and has placed two on every building. This ongoing trigger has suddenly resolved itself – but only after I let go of my attachment to needing anything to change.

Silly Random Meditations

Saturday morning, while meditating in my room, I listen to the second of my channeled sessions from Trish. My heart comes alive as I remember a series of magical experiences that resulted from that session – how I had connected with three higher guides who profoundly assisted in inspiring me to begin my travels, and who seemed to provide repeated clues that eventually led me to Keith’s magical cacao ceremonies in Guatemala.

As I meditate and bask in the memories, my heart is wide open.

Soon, intuitions guide me to meditate as if I were becoming certain objects in my room. Doing so in a way that feels silly and random, I begin to do just that. First I pick up a tiny purple flashlight. I feel it – I feel its joy at being a light to serve others – its nonattachment – its purpose to illuminate for others, but not caring if anyone even sees its light. I giggle as the little light seems to tell me that his name is “Twinkle”.

Next, I randomly pick up my “Leatherman Tool” – a fancy Swiss-army-knife-like tool that also has pliers, screw drivers, and myriad other useful built-in tools. As I meditate into being this tool, I feel the energy of being thrilled to be a profound mobile toolbox that can help to get things done – having so many functions – so much joy to serve. Then, the little tool seems to tell me that his name is “Edgy”.

Soon I grab my “Uniball Vision Exact” pen. While meditating, I feel the love of creating via the mechanism of writing – to document, explain, and create with joy. The little pen’s name is “Scratchy”.

Finally, I pick up three little hematite crystals. As I play with them, asking them to help me ground and connect to other dimensions, I realize that each of these three stones is unique, separate and one. Their names are “Rocky”, “Tumbles”, and “Smoothy”. I play with them for a while, continuing to glean insights.

Suddenly, I realize that the objects I have “randomly” selected are not so random at all. It is so obvious that I am being told that I have all the tools (Edgy) that I need – and I have the light to guide and inspire me (Twinkles) – I have my ability to write (Scratchy) – and I have my grounding and guidance from other dimensions (Rocky, Tumbles, and Smoothy) – and I have them all right now.

I am blown away by the symbolism of what originally felt like silly and random meditations.

Random Issues

I spend the remainder of this “day three” of integration continuing to meditate on random issues, spending considerable time reflecting on how the ongoing “lantern issues” here at the Temple have also been quite profoundly symbolic.

What at the time felt like insane overreactions on my part were actually showing me how “my needs as a child were not being met”. My childhood conditioning left me struggling in the dark. I was not being provided with the guiding light to keep my magic growing and safe. The “lanterns-not-being-placed-on-my-building” issue metaphorically triggered these emotions.

As I later eat dinner, I am shocked by how my appetite seems to be nonexistent. Feeling quite satisfied, I barely eat a thin piece of chicken, a small portion of rice, and a half of a roasted plantain.

Caustic Relationships

I continue these same routines on Sunday. As I read about caustic relationships in chapter 22 of “Oneness” (by Rasha), I reflect back on many such difficult relationships in my life, especially the ones with Paul and Catherine, who constantly pushed my buttons in Keith’s cacao ceremonies in Guatemala. I am shocked to realize that I continue to feel fear based emotions around the idea of bumping into them. I begin to wonder how much more emotion needs to surface before I can really be free of these old patterns.

I realize that it may be time to go deeper into these issues, and that my fears are yet another example of “not having a voice” and/or “being afraid to use my voice”.

“Such people in my life have been my Ursulas (the sea witch from The Little Mermaid),” I ponder with shock. “Just being in their presence has caused me to surrender my voice and to cower in the shadows with fear.”

As I go deeper, an intense layer of victim emotion rages up and out of me in the form of sobbing, teeth-chattering, and dry-heaving.

When the emotion subsides, I again go deeper, realizing that in past lifetimes I have been like these people, doing the same things to them that I have perceived them doing to me. It becomes obvious that each of our journeys has been perfect for what we came here to do in this lifetime – they are doing what they need to do for their journeys – and by triggering me, they have served me massively in my own journey, helping me to expose and release my own conditioned patterns.

As I finish reading chapter 22 of Oneness, I absolutely love the final paragraph on page 217. It reads as follows:

“The pathways of the emotions you have worked so hard to stabilize are those upon which your consciousness will travel in connecting you with heightened levels of awareness. For it is your emotional foundation that unites all aspects of the consciousness that make up your multidimensional identity. That foundation, once cleared of the ego based need to respond to provocation, serves as the pathway upon which all aspects of your multidimensional self unite in Oneness, and recognize that common bond as one that is shared with All Creation.”

Playing With Light

In the evening, as I attempt some “lighter” activities, I listen to a Collin Raye album on my IPOD. I am shocked when the song “One Boy, One Girl” causes me to start sobbing. I play the song on repeat mode, doing so at least ten times. Over and over I sob as the words trigger necessary release – emotional release surrounding the continued guilt that I have carried regarding my former marriage, and how my gender transitions have affected the lives of others.

I feel so much love when the process finally subsides. I am emotionally exhausted, but grateful that another layer of profound and magical emotional release has graced me.

While the experience itself was “not so light”, I feel much lighter and free when the light finally fills me again.

What a beautiful day of integration this has been – a day of social interaction, great insights from reading, and deep emotional release. I cannot even begin to describe it all.

As I prepare for bed, loving shivers fill my heart when I realize it has been almost exactly five years to the day since I had my profound “Brenda’s Bicycles” dream that precipitated the amazing journey on which I continue to venture. Gratitude fills my soul. My entire reality is so different from that period so long ago, and I continue to release, heal and grow.

Excited Passion

Early Monday morning, at 3:15 a.m., I find myself wide awake. As I meditate with the intention to connect with my guides, I gradually shift into a state of excited passion.

“PLAY is my voice,” I ponder with giggles. “My lost voice is ‘heart play’ … paying attention to my moment-by-moment guidance … doing what fuels my joy.”

The passion continues to fill me as I meditate more than an hour and a half. I try to return to sleep, but remain deeply excited well after 5:00 a.m., when I finally do get a tiny bit more sleep.

Agonizing Stuckness

As I finally get out of bed on this day five of my final integration period – I listen to two more channeled session from my friend Trish, and am soon transported into deep emotional stuck-ness. In those session, Trish had encouraged me to “step back … let go of my head … get out of my head … etc…” and I had felt deeply frustrated and stuck because I did not know how to do that. As I re-listen to that experience from several years ago, these same old emotions pressurize and bubble to the surface.

I ponder back to times when people had criticized me on Keith’s porch in Guatemala (and in other places), rubbing it in about how “stuck in my head” I still was.

As I revisit these old memories, the old emotions surface with a vengeance – emotions of helpless anger – confused resentment – chaotic resistance – frustration and hopelessness of not knowing how NOT to be in my head.

When I eventually go to lunch, I feel unusually disconnected. I want to judge myself for what I am feeling, because part of me says “I should be above beyond such emotions by now.”

Suddenly, I realize that this is indeed “real emotion” – real emotion that I continue to push down in shame – real emotion that needs to be lovingly felt if I am going to release it.

Both Victim And Perpetrator

After lunch, I resolve to go as deep into this journey as possible. I already ate a half dose of cacao earlier this morning, so I consume another half dose and then re-listen to the channeled readings that had triggered the emotions this morning, hoping they will trigger me yet again.

To my surprise, I actually enjoy the first reading as I listen to it for the second time. I am now in a totally different emotional place. But with the second reading from 2011, I get extremely sleepy. I soon recognize this sleepiness as a form of strong emotional resistance. Rather than fight myself, however, I give myself permission for a short nap before continuing.

Finally, when mild emotions begin to get triggered, I stop the audio and begin to dig deep into the emotional agony that is just beneath the surface. It does not take long before I have opened up a reservoir of deep anger.

Soon, I recognize a “voice of judgment”. It is my mother’s voice from back in my childhood and youth – from times when I was throwing huge “I cannot do this” tantrums because I had lost my voice and did not trust anything that originated from inside of me.

But now, I recognize that I have taken my mother’s voice and turned it into my own voice – into my own “inner judge”. Throughout my life, I have ruthlessly terrorized myself with this self-judgment. It soon becomes clear that I am accessing what feels like a bottomless pit of victim anger and sadness.

From my present perspective, it is clear that I am both the victim and the perpetrator in this battle. I am both sides of the war, with each side hating the other with a vengeance.

To The Core

In what feels like some of my deepest release work ever, I remove all stops and go for it. In an effort not to disturb neighbors, I emotionally scream in total silence, while kicking my arms and legs to stimulate old, deep, tantrum and victim energies.

I sob with jaw-shaking intensity for a very long time. As I do so, I notice something new. I am profoundly feeling the shaking in my entire throat region. This tells me that I am dealing with throat chakra and expressing-my-voice stuff.

This simulated-but-real tantrum goes on for a long time. It is difficult not to get lost in this overwhelming emotion.

Finally, I reach out to the light, asking for help in either finishing and/or going deeper. To my delight I first feel immediate relief. But a minute later I am taken even deeper through another agonizing emotional layer.

After repeating many more layers, the “victim” in me feels much lighter. Soon, I follow guidance and imagine myself as the perpetrator. Almost immediately I go through deep waves of intense rage, judgment, sorrow, grief, remorse, and anger, doing so with more jaw-shaking sobs focused in the throat chakra.

Suddenly, as the emotion begins to subside, I realize that both the victim-me and the perpetrator-me are sitting in a metaphorical inner conference room. I note with deep interest that they cannot even look at each other. I continue meditating deeper into the experience. Finally, I am able to bring in more love and joy and the emotions fully transmute.

“Wow,” I tell myself. “That was some of the deepest and most core emotional work I have ever done … and it was profoundly related to losing my voice as a child.”

As I head off to dinner, after a long afternoon of very hard work, I revel in self-love as I congratulate myself for having the courage to do the amazing work I am doing.

After barely eating half my meal, I retire early and listen to music in bed. I note with delight that both my forehead and throat regions feel lighter than I have felt in a very long time. But so much magical energy flows through me that I find it difficult to sleep.

A Tsunami Of A Dream

I only get about four hours of sleep before waking up again at 2:15 a.m. on Tuesday morning, April 8, 2014. Almost immediately, I return to a deep energy meditation. Then, around 3:30 a.m., an intense jungle storm, with considerable wind, causes moisture to spray through the mosquito netting into the back of my room. Somewhere, late in the storm, I manage to fall asleep just long enough to have a very strange dream, also related to water (the element of emotion).

In the dream, I am with my former spouse, my oldest son, a young girl, and a baby. We are near a beach, and are aware that a tsunami is on its way. For whatever reason, my guidance tells me that we will all be safest if we run down the beach and into the water. I encourage them to all come with me. After the wave hits, my oldest son and I, along with the baby in his arms, have survived. My spouse and the young girl are nowhere to be seen. Suddenly another huge wave looms on the horizon and I wake up. As I open my eyes, I am overwhelmed with intense feelings of sadness and guilt. I feel responsible for having followed that strange guidance, and subsequently having destroyed my family.

I find it totally weird that I was guided to take my family out into the water. To the logical mind, the dream makes no sense. Racing out into the water to find safety in a tsunami is the craziest possible thing to do.

Yet, as I meditate into the dream it makes total sense at a metaphorical level. This is a profound metaphor, triggering emotions that needed to be felt and released. The dream shows me that I still feel some repressed guilt for having followed my own higher guidance to transition to Brenda – guidance that on the surface did seemingly tear my family apart with huge destructive waves. I believe that the dream was ultimately designed to make me feel that emotion so that it can be released and transmuted.

And even this dream seems to be dealing with “my voice” – with the fact that this is another example of how expressing my voice (my guidance to be my genuine self) proved to be a profoundly arduous and emotional journey.

Remaining Residuals

As I wake up for the second time on this Tuesday morning, I dive right into the emotions triggered by this dream. I quickly sink into a few minutes of intense and deep sobbing.

“Enough,” intuitions soon whisper. “It is now time to bring in the light.”

This emotion is very deep, but I have worked through most of it already. Intuitions tell me that this process today is merely helping to clean out a few remaining residuals of emotion that have continued to hide in the shadows.

Once the deep release work is complete, my heart glows with peace and joy. I spend the remainder of the morning listening to another channeling session followed by more reading in Oneness.

Hiding Under A Blanket

In the afternoon, I dive into the final channeling session that I had with Trish – one when I was visiting in Utah back in November, 2013 (just a week before coming to Peru). It was an emotionally challenging session, one that I had since forgotten, but one that is now perfectly timed to trigger more healing. In that hour long session, Trish had channeled messages about how I still become a different person when I am around my family. It is as if I hide my true self, glossing over and minimizing details about my amazing spiritual journey because I know my beliefs are quite different from those of my family, and I don’t want to offend anyone.

Essentially, I unknowingly squash my own voice and try to play a subdued role that will not make anyone uncomfortable. The end result, however, is that no one is truly comfortable.

I am blown away by how everything that comes up in this integration seems to have major connections to me having “lost my voice”.

I still harbor deep fear that being my true and genuine self (living my true voice) will result in rejection by loved ones. I am afraid that if I take off that blanket and shine my true light around my family, that I might literally lose their love.

Removing The Blanket

I won’t go into details, but in a group meeting later in the afternoon, I pick up on a great deal of “victim energy” from several others in my group. They are having a hard time with the integration period, saying they are not getting much out of it, and are verbally blaming their lack of engagement on external circumstances.

I see the meeting as perfect. Rather than judging others in my own external reality, I see this meeting as an external mirror of what continues to occur inside me.

“OK,” I ask myself. “So what exactly am I projecting onto this meeting?”

After a few minutes of honest pondering, I realize that a part of me is still feeling victimized, very stuck and lost, still hiding under that blanket and wanting to blame loved ones for not fully accepting who I am. Meanwhile, I continue to hide my true self from them – fearful to shine my light – fearful to unveil my true “heart voice” in their presence.

I am quite proud of myself when my turn to share arrives. Knowing that speaking my truth might ruffle the feathers of others, I express my own deep gratitude for the integration time being exactly the way it is. I share how profound my experiences have been in this integration period as I take advantage of the free time to meditate and go extremely deep. I can see that my words do indeed really bother one person in my group, but I am proud of myself for confidently expressing my own feelings – for no longer hiding my own light under that outdated old blanket.

Revisiting The Past

Wednesday, April 9, 2014, begins as any other normal day. After sleeping in a tiny bit, I start to meditate, going back to another event that took place in a November 2012 channeling session with Trish. It was the first session that I listened to yesterday morning. As I meditate, I decide to listen to that session again today.

Those who have followed my journey may recall that in the fall of 2012, I was deeply struggling with agonizing suicidal, hopeless feelings – old feelings that were actually from my teenage years, but that had been brought to the forefront by my inner work from earlier that summer. Every time I got close to those feelings, in an effort to heal them, I would instead get lost in them, wanting to project them onto Keith, Catherine, Paul, and anyone else who was convenient. I was literally on the edge of drowning in those hopeless emotions when I returned to Utah for a three week visit with family and friends.

I scheduled a session with Trish during that November visit, and before we began, Trish and I each drank a full dose of ceremonial cacao together. Near the end of the session, I had begun to get lost in an overwhelming wave of that putrid hopeless emotion that felt as if it were relentlessly attacking me. Trish had graciously extended that session by an extra half hour as she coached me into a place of surrender – a place of allowing the fears and energy to pass through me – a place where I was able to find centering and peace.

As I listen to that session a year and a half later, I finally begin to understand what was happening way back then. What I felt in that November 2012 session was the same type of overwhelming energy that had swarmed me in my early ayahuasca ceremonies in Iquitos – the ones in December 2013 and January 2014. It was an energy that was actually trying to help me, but one that I had fiercely resisted.

I now understand that back in 2012, I was continually fighting those emotions and energies, trying not to feel them, and rejecting them. Today, as I re-listen to the audio, those emotions and energies again surface. This time I choose to dive right into them, trusting that I will NOT get lost.

An Old Circle Of Friends

But first I go to breakfast, after which I eat a half dose of cacao. After listening to several joyful and inspiring parts of that channeling session, I skip forward to the end where I began to get lost in the overwhelming craziness.

I gently encourage myself to reconnect with that same emotion. But I feel very stuck. I am right on the edge of returning to that overwhelmed state, but something inside of me fights back with ferocity. Guidance tells me I need to find and feel this emotion in order to release it, but I simply cannot get there.

Suddenly, I remember a chocolate ceremony from my first season of working with Keith. In that ceremony, I had found a room filled with all of my Higher-Being guides and friends. I called them my “Circle of Friends”, and wrote about the experience in a blog with a similar title. But when I had tried to meditatively enter that room, I was so terrified that I was utterly unable to do so. Instead, I found myself cowering (metaphorically) down a hall and in a nearby closet. To this day, I have never been able to go back and enter that room.

A Shame Filled Screw Up

Today, I am determined to change history, and to find my way into that Circle of loving Higher Beings.

I use my present emotional state, combined with Trish’s channeled words, to re-access the terror that I felt nearly four years ago as I contemplated moving into the light of that room filled with loving beings – Higher Dimensional beings that feel nothing but pure unconditional love for me.

What happens next shocks me. It is so incredibly vivid and real. As I try to imagine stepping into that light-filled room, I simply cannot. Instead, I feel terror, fright, and intense unworthiness. I feel shame and embarrassment, as if I am an utter failure, and that I will be judged and condemned if I step into that room. Those Higher Dimensional friends will see right through me. I won’t be able to hide my shame from them.

I feel absolute terror that they will not love me because of my human foibles and my lack of perfection. I also understand that it was this same terror that caused me to build walls around my heart as a child, and caused me to block my parents out of the more genuine parts of my life … and it is this same emotion that is now causing me to hide my true self around my kids, causing me to throw a metaphorical blanket over my shining heart voice.

But even with this mental understanding of what I am feeling, I simply cannot find the emotional energy to step into that meditative room filled with my Higher Friends. Every time I try to visualize myself doing just that, I burst into whimpering tears of agony and fear.

The emotions of shame and fear course through me in unbelievably real ways. The sensations are overwhelming. I absolutely know that I have horribly failed, that I have utterly screwed up my journey into humanness. How could anyone love such a screw-up as me?

Already There

But rather than turn away, I continue the meditation. I keep baby-stepping toward that room. I know the truth of the divinity that flows through each of us. At the same time I feel the intensity of the lies telling me how horribly I have failed. I repeatedly visualize myself back in that New Years Eve ayahuasca ceremony, whimpering on the mat in front of Roman while he helped me energetically find that sweet spot in the center of the energetic hurricane.

With each layer of intense emotion that washes through me, I ask the light for assistance. Each time, the layer vanishes and another new layer quickly comes. But no matter how hard I try to visualize myself stepping into that room, I simply cannot get there. No matter how many meditative steps I take, no matter how much emotion I release, I am still right where I started, absolutely stuck and fearful.

Soon, new guidance tells me to stop trying to go into that room, and to instead visualize myself as already being there. I see myself lying in a bed, sleeping, lost in a nightmare, surrounded by beautiful, loving, divine beings who are gently offering unconditional love and support as I fearfully try to open my eyes.

I feel as if I am consumed in a nightmare of shame, and the terror is still there.

Gradually, I imagine that my “Circle of Higher Friends” are congratulating me, and hugging me. I see them as orbs of light that are excitedly bouncing into each other. This visual makes me giggle, but I continue to feel the intensely deep trauma of my human failures.

In this meditation, these loving beings continue to swarm me with love and praise. They do not validate my shame and guilt. Instead, I feel them telling me that I was amazing and brilliant … congratulating me for succeeding beyond all expectations … and at an extremely high difficulty setting (reference to a video game metaphor).

“The shame I feel is just the lingering human conditioning of failure and unworthiness,” intuitions whisper loudly.

Still, I cannot shake the feeling that I have somehow failed beyond forgiveness and recovery.

Desperation To Peace

Soon, I follow new guidance that takes me to an image of me about to be born, getting onto a theme park ride – a haunted mansion nightmare ride. As I step into the car that will take me through the maze of human experiences, I know that I will forget everything about my true origin. I know that I will get lost and believe that I belong in hell. And I know that one day I will again wake up to my true identity.

But as I imagine this very real truth, I continue to feel deeply traumatized from a frightening fifty-nine year ride through earthly human trauma. The intense shameful emotions are so overwhelming and so real that I cannot separate myself from them. I feel as if I am hopelessly chained to a lifetime of failure, and that I am totally unworthy of Higher Love from my “Circle of Friends”.

Finally, in absolute and hopeless desperation, I ask my higher “Circle of Friends” to help me transmute the emotions I am feeling.

“I cannot do this myself,” I beg for their assistance. “I don’t know how to do this myself … but if I have felt this emotion deeply enough, then please help me.”

Wow! The emotional trauma transmutes instantly. Just a few seconds earlier, I was drowning in the emotion, but now I find myself in a magical, centered, and peaceful state. I even begin to engage in what feels like a telepathic conversation with these Higher Friends. Logical mind tells me this is just silly imagination, but my heart knows otherwise.

All mental chatter seems to be temporarily gone, and I know that what I am feeling is very real indeed.

A Magical Conversation

As I meditate into this beautiful space, I silently ask repeated questions, and as I do, the answers seem to be present in my mind even as I formulate the question. The conversation does not seem especially profound, because I seem to already know what I need to know.

With tears in my eyes, I gain new perspectives on self-love. Gradually, the meditative state begins to fade, and I feel as if I am reentering the earthly holodeck, but doing so as a “new me”.

As I open my eyes, I feel like I am reacquainting myself with the stage set – rediscovering my surroundings.

“I know my mind will try to invalidate this over time,” I quickly write in my journal. “I know that my mind will try to rationalize this experience away – but I also know that I will always remember this reference point no matter what happens. I DO have a profound connection with my Higher Friends. They are now, and always have been, with me, cheering me on with praise and love. I was never lost completely.”

“I WANTED this earthly adventure,” I continue writing. “I WANTED this experience and understanding. I DID IT, and I will continue to do it, but doing so with much more love and trust. I am not sure what else to write while I am in this state. It is nothing special, except for a feeling of deep calm, and an unawareness of my body. When I do notice my body, there is not much energy or sensation of any type … which confuses me. As I ask about this, I am reassured of the reality of my state … and that I am not feeling energy because I am not presently a body meditating … that I am ‘being’ in its natural state of presence.”

“This state is so NORMAL that it feels unreal – yet beautiful too. It is ordinary, but magic … peaceful and unattached to physicality or drama in any way, accompanied by a knowing that this is all my creation, my mirror, my personal holodeck … nothing more.”

A Hidden Light

As I continue reflecting into this beautiful experience, I fill with deep gratitude at the realization that this breakthrough all came about because of my focus on a channeled reading from almost six months ago – and from exploring why I put a metaphorical blanket over my heart voice when I am around family and friends who do not relate to my journey.

As I ponder a lifetime of wanting to be understood by others, I now realize that this “not being understood” was really my own absolute shame and guilt about being me – with that shame and guilt being projected outward onto my world, causing me to perceive others as not understanding and accepting me.

It is so absolutely clear now that what I processed and released earlier this afternoon was a huge layer of self-judgment that I did not even realize was still there. It is so beautiful to let this go; I feel so much lighter, and I am excited to see what happens next in this amazing journey.

Feeling inspired, I go back and spend another ninety minutes listening to that November 2013 channeled reading all over again. This time, as I contemplate that metaphorical blanket that I have used to hide my shame and self-judgment, it is also quite clear that I have used this blanket to hide my successes, my creativity, my magic, and my brilliant shining light. I again reflect on my favorite Marianne Williamson quote, about how we are more afraid of shining our light, than we are of our shadow.

In fact, I have spent most of my life hiding my light under that blanket, all in an effort to conform and to appear normal.

Journey Into The Subconscious

As I continue meditating, I feel guided to do a “Subconscious Book of Beliefs” meditation.

I close my eyes and imagine myself walking down stairways into my subconscious mind, but I seem to make no progress. It feels as if I am walking down an upward moving escalator that keeps taking me back to the top. The faster I try to visualize myself walking down, the faster the escalator takes me back up.

Not giving up, I visualize myself jumping and grabbing a fireman’s pole. But when I loosen my grip to slide down, I feel as if I am instead sliding up to the top of the pole.

Next, I relax and imagine a ladder leaning against the pole. With all my will, I visualize myself climbing down that ladder, fighting the “reverse gravity” that wants to push me back up. Eventually, when I reach the bottom of the pole, I see myself putting on magnetic boots that hold me tightly to the metal floor. I look around, find my destination, and slowly, one deliberate step at a time, I walk to a subconscious door labeled “Light Shadow”.

As I visualize opening the knob and pushing inward, I feel as if a rush of chaotic vultures scatters out of the room, noisily flying out of the door, scaring me. I quickly close the door and carefully open and close it a few times, allowing the vultures to exit in smaller groups. Then, a rampage of frantic bats comes rushing out of the room. I do the same thing. Next, a roomful of scary tarantulas crawl by, filing past me as they too leave the room.

I refuse to be afraid of anything, and maintaining my focus, I insist that these fear tactics cease and leave. Soon, a huge number of slimy snakes also slither out of the room.

Finally, the room is empty of creatures, and I see a small lit table at the back. On top of the table is an open book.

Deeply Held Dysfunctional Beliefs

I visualize myself approaching the table. When I stand in front of it, I begin to intuit the words written on the pages.

“Expressing my brilliance gets me into massive trouble,” The first page reads. “Expressing my creativity opens me to criticism and judgment. Expressing my talents and gifts opens me to the jealousy of others, when they feel bad and play small.”

I imagine myself turning to the next page.

“Expressing these gifts goes against God,” The second page reads. “It is not humble to own these things … and only humility will get me to Heaven. Expressing my magic is evil, dark, occult, and satanic, and is to be abhorred and avoided at all costs.”

I again imagine turning the page.

“Being who I am makes others uncomfortable,” The third page begins. “It causes them to not like me … it makes me stand out in a crowd … it opens me to unwanted attention, bullying, judgment, criticism and negative opinions of others. It is critically important to blend in, to be more or less invisible so as to go undetected, to not make waves. Others will not love me if I am different. I am defective if I am different from others. I am unworthy if I do not conform and fit in.”

I do not write the above until after completing the meditation, so all words are essentially paraphrased. In total, I find six pages in this book of beliefs, with the remaining pages containing similar untrue-but-deeply-held dysfunctional beliefs.

Destroyed Three Times

As I intuitively glance at the pages one last time, I note that they appear to be signed and notarized by a man who was the leader of my birth religion when I was a child. My parents and other church leaders had also signed the pages. They had all helped to give me these beliefs … and had done so with the best of intentions.

Deep fear surfaces in my gut as I begin to visualize my self tearing these pages out of the book. As I have learned to do this meditation, I tear the six pages out three separate times, destroying them in a different way each time.

First, I run them through an imaginary shredder, one page at a time. Then I take the vertical strips and run them through the shredder sideways. Next I sprinkle the confetti in a bucket, fill it with gasoline, light a match, and let the flames explode as the pages burn to smoke.

As I tear the pages out for a second time, the process is less fearful. This time, I roll the pages up, put them in a tube, wrap C4 explosive around the tube, and insert a couple of long wires. Next, I imagine myself hiding behind a distant wall while pushing a hand plunger to ignite the explosive … obliterating the pages.

The third time I repeat the process feels almost joyful as I drench the pages with acid. They dissolve and then dry into powder, becoming brittle. Soon, they break and crumble to dust, scattering into the atmosphere as a gust of wind picks them up. Suddenly, the remaining crumbs of paper-residue spontaneously burst into flames.

New Replacement Beliefs

Responding to a sudden flash of inspiration, I then imagine picking up the book, finding some blank pages, and writing a new agreement in bold letters.

“I am brilliant,” I begin writing. “I am creative. I am talented. I am fabulous. I am joyous. I am magical. I am confident. I am courageous. I am loving. I am gifted. I am awesome. I am enough.”

Then I add a paragraph about my commitment to own and shine these gifts … not hiding them any more … but also using Higher Wisdom as to when and how it is appropriate to express them. I then sign the pages with my full earthly name, and ask my Higher Self to notarize the signature.

Wow, as I finish this magical mediation, I feel amazing. A glance at my watch tells me it is only mid afternoon. I spend the rest of this highly productive day basking in nice energy, but I am also quite tired from the level of intense emotional processing that I have completed.

On The Cusp

This seventh day of integration has been a long and beautiful day. It is hard to believe that I am just barely over halfway through the final twelve days of my time here at the “Temple of the Way of Light”.

The processing I accomplished today has been life changing. I can already feel the energy shifts. I continue, on a daily basis, to uncover new ways in which I have “lost my voice”. I am so grateful for those final two ayahuasca ceremonies (less than two weeks ago) that brought me such a magical metaphor from “The Little Mermaid” … and that inspired me to explore the metaphor as deeply as possible.

I feel so much healing and growth already, but something tells me I am still on the cusp of a major breakthrough. I am quite excited to find out what is next.

… To be continued …

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