I remember the road well, if that is that is what one would call it. I was in a jeep on a mountain track of cobbles, ruts and rocks. The driver was making slow progress and eventually stopped. He engaged the low ratio gearbox of the 4-wheel drive we were in. I have no photographs of this part of the journey as my two other fellow travellers and I, all good friends, were clinging on to whatever we could hold as the vehicle bucked and bounced, twisted and tilted as slow progress was made. It was exhilarating.
The view on my left was of mountainside with dust and tufts of dry grass glowing golden as the sun slowly dropping in the mid-afternoon. The view on my righthand side was stunning and simply beyond words that could even start to paint event a poor picture in one’s mind’s eye! The impact on all of one’s senses made one feel completely ‘alive’. All the more poignant as too close to the edge of the unguarded track would have meant a fatal slip of many thousands of feet.
Looking across the massive mountain scape of the Andes, to the distant side of the vast valley we were slowly traversing, was as far away from any townscape as one could imagine – so much so that I had at the time forgotten such places existed. It was magical, all consuming, and the air thin at this altitude. No voice, no conversation needed, only the noise of the vehicle and driver doing their work.
On a trip before, the same driver had taken two of us to a town in the high reaches of the Amazon, the route back apparently included what is known as the ‘most dangerous road in the world’. He had not mentioned it at the time. On that day, whilst it had been misty in places, it was not flooded or deep in mud, only the odd stream flowing over certain sections when extra care was needed. So, whilst a fascinating day, it was another road as far as he was concerned. I also had been on dramatic roads in other parts of the world, one especially dangerous with deep mud and landslides, so perhaps I was a little more ‘desensitised’ to the topographical challenge as I would have been if new to such terrain. My companion was hugely well travelled and did not make a fuss either.
That night on this new trip, sitting around a roaring log fire we had made, at the all but deserted accommodation we stayed at, we praised the driver for his skill and care in looking after us. Sadly, my language skills in Latin American Spanish are poor but my two companions, one Chilean, and the other, who had lived in South America for many years, also fluent with a knowledge of the Aymara language our driver also used, so the conversation flowed, and fortunately the translation too.
When the conversation came around to the road he beamed. There was a lot of laughter. Clearly my companions had hit on a favourite topic; albeit as the conversation became very loud and speedy, the translation came later. Apparently, on both the last trip, and on this trip, he said the roads he took us on were usually far more ‘interesting’ than ‘the most dangerous road’. I smiled and also shuddered a little – I was all too aware that many of the roads were narrow, with massive drops. Plus, all too clearly remembering one road (more like a track) which zig zagged on the face of a mountain – at the many bends even the jeep had to reverse to make the bend, it was so tight. They were ancient tracks used by loaded alpaca to transport people and goods. To this day there are still some goods transported this way between villages – it is effective for the people of the mountains.
I have been reflecting on this journey for a while, the vivid pictures crystal clear in my memory. They keep resurfacing together with the companionship shared, the laughter of close friends, the investment in rich experiences that always place a large credit into the memory bank. As the years of life progress, I am so grateful that these images are stored away to draw on, to make me smile, to make me shudder too. To make me feel alive!
Since that journey not so many years ago, much has been achieved. The trip is like a milestone in life, a reference point. With more reference points in the time since those days. As I look farther back in life, I am fortunate there are many other milestones that provide reference points.
As I look forward, I don’t see much planned to add new reference points – now that is food for thought! It is time I started to plan again.
I hope you have a series of reference points along your journey of life that you can draw on. I hope you have some new ones planned too. If not, do start to plan – these are so valuable to add to your own memory vault. Fill it full…for one comes this way but once.
My best wishes,
Peter
