We're woken up at 5am and I can barely move. I did not sleep well. I'm aching all over, my stomach hurts and I can hardly breath. My tent is also on a slope so I spend the night sliding down the tent and dragging myself back up. I'm still pale and feel even worse today.
I shove a fistful of pills down my throat and some banana pancake which I can't taste and begin the painful task of walking up Dead Woman's Pass (Warmiwañuska) at 6am, so called because the peak resembles a woman's breast lying down. I'm tired before I start and I'm thinking about whether I'll have to turn back.
It's a relentless uphill haul at altitude through humid but beautiful jungle for 1.5 hours. The steps are steep and uneven and there's no reprieve. At this point I'd give anything for 'Andean flat'. At the halfway point, Llulluchapampa, I collapse on the rocks through exhaustion and unashamedly start to cry. It's not so much the difficulty; it's more the disappointed of feeling ill, having waiting so long to walk the Inca Trail. The tears won't stop. The guide notices and asks if I want to turn back. No way. I've already spent 1.5 days punishing myself on the hardest walking I've ever done. There's no way I'm giving up now.
(Photo - Marion ahead of me on Day 2)
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