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| October 28 |
 “Our job is finished,” said José atop the lower burial platform. My processing Spanish is about as slow as a 9600 baud modem, yet I could pick up his drift, sadly. Arcadio, Jimmy, Orlando, José, and I had already finished excavating the summit platform. We confirmed what Johan and José suspected from the beginning: the majority of the platform wall gave way long ago and nothing remained to excavate. Yet we did not give up the ghost just yet. |
 With ropes, Orlando, Jimmy, and Arcadio climbed down from the summit onto a ledge of loose rock and scree, just a footstep away from falling into another world. They didn’t seem to mind the height, however. I, of course, can’t say the same. They traipsed around rock pinnacles looking for the remains of stone walls or any sign of another burial platform. During their high wire act, I glanced toward one of the rock spires and noticed black streaks etched in the side. The culprit I am told is lightning. Although our weather has been immaculate, evidence of our precarious location on the summit is written in black everywhere. |
 The daring trio climbed back up top and soon we were on our way down to the lower platform. We were now beginning the coda to our nearly two week song on Pichu Pichu. Everyone grabbed a pick or shovel and began returning soil and rocks back into the platform, restoring the area to its original form. I worked alongside José for a bit, and he pointed out how the entire summit of Pichu Pichu was actually a collapsed volcanic crater. Our high camp was in the center. He pointed to where the crater collapsed and lava flowed, a hint of the beautiful and necessary violence of the planet. |
 We finished our operation around mid-afternoon. Johan came up from high camp, and we all formed a semicircle inside the platform. It was time for a ceremony known as “despacho,” or sending (although many words exist to describe it). Our purpose, as with the Inca, was to pay back respect to the mountain with offerings (see pict of ceremony1). Arcadio did the honors by passing around sacred coca leaves, irantia (a kind of herbal concoction), vicuna fat, and wine. We would hold each libation to our lips and sometimes ingest it, other times sprinkling it over the ground, and still other instances blowing three times. The three breaths stand for Pachamama (mother earth), Mamacocha (ocean), and Pichu Pichu—the benefactors of our expedition. At the end of the despacho, we burned any excess offerings in a fire and then waited for the coals to finally die.. |
| I rest this evening in a somewhat penitent air, listening to the wind, knowing the expedition is almost over. We must return to the dump site tomorrow, and the next day, back to the city. I can see the golden lights of Arequipa in the distance...the million stars overhead. I will frame this picture, forever. |
Yancey Hall
nationalgeographic.com