Set against the vastness of the Peruvian Andes, a Brazilian hiker delivers an unexpected monologue on the state of affairs in the free world.
It was a sun-drenched high noon on the remote Choquequirao trail in the Peruvian Andes. I pulled my hat low against the arid spring wind as I approached the área de observación de aves (bird observation area) not far from the Quechua outpost of Capuliyoc. I was on my way back to civilization after spending days walking one of South America’s most daunting hikes. The area’s shaded bench offered a welcome reprieve before my final push to the terminus.
Not a soul was in sight when I sat down. I could see for well over half a mile to the southeast toward the village. Looking down the trail to the west, the valley opened up to the horizon. Mountain peaks that were thousands of feet above me plunged sharply into the Apurímac River far below. Staring out into the vastness from the solitude of my shady oasis, I could intimately feel the power of Mother Earth, the deity the Quechua call Pachamama.
In moments of compulsory reflection like that, I am reminded of how insignificant our species is in relation to Earth’s seemingly infinite timeline. Just like I was a speck against the world’s longest mountain range so are we against the immense succession of creation.
After what must have been 15 minutes, I stood up to stretch my legs. I still had a few miles to go and well over a thousand feet (>300 meters) of elevation to gain. Feeling the blood flow into my tired legs, I opened my mochila and put away my bag of trail mix. Taking a pull from my water reservoir, I looked back up the trail.
A small dust cloud rising from a switchback partially shrouded the image of two black dots. A pair of hikers was making their descent into the valley. I watched them lazily for a moment then turned attention to my gear.
A few minutes later, my muscles warm from standing and stretching, I sat down again. The hikers, both identifiable then as male, were much closer. I started to make out voices. One was speaking in a heavily accented English that was different from what I had heard in Peru. He was also excitedly gesturing with his hands as he spoke. It was undoubtedly to underline the point he was trying to make to his mostly silent, fair-skinned counterpart, who wore a shirt with a Canadian maple leaf emblazoned across the front.
Curious about the odd pair, I adjusted my hat, lowering the brim where they would have a harder time making me out as a blonde haired, green-eyed gringo. I wanted to be a fixture of the landscape as the Latino gentleman and the presumably North American hiker continued their mysterious conversation. When they arrived at the observation area, I greeted them with the least accented “Buenas” that I could muster then dropped my head as if to rest.
Almost without missing a beat, the Latino continued what had essentially become his monologue. It quickly became apparent that he was a Brazilian national, and he spoke of the hardship the country was now staring down from skyrocketing inflation. Some of his less fortunate family members were already in dire straits. He wished aloud that the U.S. could step in and help Brazil, but the cavalheiro lamented that America had become weakened, rotting from the inside due to extremism and excess.
A continent away, a Brazilian was peering into my nation’s tortured soul. “Where did it all go wrong for America?” he asked.
All I heard in response was the Andean wind, but my mind was moving. I recalled the feeling of vastness. I thought again of our species’ insignificance. I considered how my country, at the pinnacle of this brief chapter of creation, was crumbling within as other dependent nations cried out for help.
Then I – the seated speck – consciously returned to the now crushingly heavy silence.
Perhaps satisfied he had made his point or simply out of oratorical energy, the Brazilian stood quietly for a few minutes. The white man never managed to come up with an answer to his question. A short while later, the pair pushed further down the sendero.
Adjusting my hat one last time, I put on my pack and leaned into the ascent.
Related Content
– Click to read my feature article “Peruvian Andes: The Violent Reckoning of Pax Americana” for an in-depth look at how the United States’ doctrine of peace has tattered Latin America.
– Click to view my high-resolution photo collection from the Choquequirao trail.
– Click to browse my travel guides for the area of Cusco, Peru.