Getting Older Along the Way to Machu Picchu

“I’m gonna soak up the sun, got my 45 on, so I can rock on.”  Sheryl Crow

The snow-capped mountain stood almost mockingly before me. “I dare you,” whispered the wisps of clouds that snagged on its peak like a shirt on a chain-link fence.

At 20,574 feet, Mount Salkantay is the highest peak in the Willkapampa mountain range in the Peruvian Andes. It is about 40 miles from the town of Cusco where I had just spent two days getting acclimated to the altitude and eating as much pollo saltado as possible. A three-hour bumpy van ride took my buddy Dave and I to our starting point at the bottom of Salkantay. We were with two other Americans, our guide, our cook and his young daughter. We ate lunch in short sleeves under the warm midday sun. The white top of the mountain looked as big as Everest in its setting against the deep blue sky.

We were about to begin a four-day hike to Machu Picchu and in my excitement I may have missed some valuable packing information. Our guide told us we could lighten our backpacks by putting some items on the mules that the cook used to ferry our supplies from camp to camp. Since it was so balmy during lunch, I chose to have the mules carry my heavy fleece coat, hat, and gloves. Not my greatest Edmund Hilary moment.

We walked for a few hours toward the looming mountain when suddenly we changed direction. We didn’t go left or right. Not east or west. We started going up … as in up the mountain. Instantly, as if on cue, it started snowing. Then the wind began swirling. The trail coiled in tight switchbacks and with each turn the temperature seemed to drop 10 degrees. I borrowed an extra jacket from Dave, but it did little to shield me from the wind and cold. Breathing became harder and my steps tougher as the air thinned in the altitude. It was like walking underwater in boots made of concrete.

I trudged into our camp for the night exhausted and freezing. At 15,000 feet my head ached and my stomach was seriously queasy. I crawled into my tent, put on every piece of warm clothing I had brought, and sank into my sleeping bag. I couldn’t sleep. The cocoa tea we drank in Cusco to ward off altitude sickness kept me from barfing but infused me with insomnia. I lay awake all night secretly wishing for a helicopter to take me off that miserable mountain and hoping I wasn’t going to end up in John Krakauer’s next book.

The helicopter didn’t arrive in the morning so I knew that the only way off of the mountain was to walk. Believe me, descending can be just as arduous as ascending, just ask my knees. At least the temperature warmed up and by reaching a lower level in the atmosphere, the air became breathable. We hiked about 15 miles that day and reached camp at nightfall. Despite being physically worn out, I felt better with warmth, food, and sleep.

Once we were off the mountain, the third and fourth days of the journey were delightful. The trail leveled off and took us through lush jungles with waterfalls and rushing rivers. We traded in the heavy coats for shorts and T-shirts. We ended up in secluded train depot where we caught a ride to the town of Aguas Calientes. After a soak in the local hot springs, a pizza, a shower, and a real bed, we entered Machu Picchu early the next morning.

There’s no way to adequately compare what walking into Machu Picchu at sunrise was like. Imagine seeing the Grand Canyon and the Manhattan skyline at the same time. It’s indescribable. I urge you to go. And you don’t have to hike in; you can grab a train from Cusco to Aguas Calientes.

Later this month, it’ll be five years since the trip to Machu Picchu that commemorated turning 40. Now, I’m halfway to 90. Geezer-hood is right around the corner. That’s 45 trips around the sun. Each lap is 584,020,178 miles and come with zero frequent flyer miles from Alec Baldwin.

The Incas, who built Machu Picchu back in the 1400s, were major fans of the sun. Aside from worshipping the sun god, Inti, they considered their king to be a child of the sun. Machu Picchu itself is set up with the sun in mind. Two of its three main structures are known as the Hitching Post of the Sun and the Temple of the Sun. While there, I remember the Hitching Post of the Sun to be extremely fascinating. Similar to a sun dial, it is a stone that points directly at the sun during the two equinoxes. The Incas believed the stone held the sun in its place along its annual path in the sky. At Midday on March 21^st and September 21^st, the sun is almost directly above the pillar. The Incas held ceremonies at the stone in which they “held the sun” to halt its northward movement in the sky.

It’s an amazing feat for a people group who weren’t placing any phone calls to Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo. Wanting to stop the sun is also a pretty interesting concept. It’s sort of like those of us who wish to halt or even reverse the passage of time and the aging process. I’ve never been too concerned with getting older. Milestone birthdays don’t bother me. Maybe it’s because I don’t look or act my age. I’m thankful that I haven’t had to visit an ophthalmologist yet and that I can still go from first to third on a single. I know the days of three-hour basketball sessions are completely in the past, but I can still go 60 minutes with a heavy bag a few days a week. I understand that more vitamins and perhaps a daily prescription or two is par for the course. One of these days my hair might even start graying.

The earth keeps orbiting the sun. There’s no way to halt its course. And when my knees feel creaky and my back hurts, I can remember the hike up Mount Salkantay. Because nothing was that tough. Although, it sure made arriving at our destination all the better. And isn’t that the case with any difficult journey or task? Pain and suffering are replaced by joy and satisfaction. Hiking to Machu Picchu was a trip of a lifetime, but I’d never do it again. Besides, there are other mountains to conquer. Which reminds me, I need to tell Dave that we’re doing Kilimanjaro in five years.

If I Made Father's Day Cards

After a quick browsing of the Father’s Day cards at the local Hallmark store, I discovered that 95 percent of the selections mocked dear ol’ dad in some way, shape, or form. The other five percent were under the heading, “Blank Inside.” A similar search last month for Mother’s Day revealed zero cards making fun of moms.

The Father’s Day cards mainly poked fun at our fathers’ affinity for belching, farting, napping, cursing, and remote-control using. Whereas Mother’s Day cards either praise mom for her love, care, and devotion; or offer up some sort of apology for having to put up with difficult children. Why has it become so accepted to deride dad on his day? This should not be the case (except for my sisters and I, -- there’s simply too much material), because we all know about the societal, emotional, and spiritual importance of having an active, strong, and masculine influence for children of both genders.

I have a great dad and I’ve never sent him a Father’s Day card that made fun of him because why send a card when it’s easier to laugh with him in person. I usually try to find a card that will make him chuckle. Choosing a card for him always reminds me of the times when he came through for me in the clutch like Big Papi, even if I forget to tell him. Things like holding my hand while I got stitches in my head from a floor-hockey accident in PE class. Or for building me a loft in my college dorm room. Or driving to Lansing at a moment’s notice to pick me up after my college was flooded by a month-long monsoon. Or finding me a job in a bathroom counter-top factory in which I was the only employee without a parole officer.

Now if I were designing Father’s Day cards, I would create a genre of cards to thank dad for providing a safe, warm, secure, and loving home. God only knows how many miles my dad drove selling medical books to put food on our table, braces on my teeth, and a private Christian education in my mind. He did it without a cell phone, an iPod, or books on CD. He did it with the faithfulness of a postal worker and still had the energy when he got home to take me to court, both tennis and basketball.

My next type of cards would be for never once insulting me, putting me down, or abusing me. Instead compliments were given and the utterances of “I love you” were as numerous as mosquito bites in the summer.

There would be a section of cards for recognizing his talents, from meatball making, to story-telling. He had a forehand like that of Jimmy Connors and a set shot that would make Bob Cousy proud. He writes, gives speeches, quotes Shakespeare, and can discuss anything from the Opera to what the Crawley’s are up to on Downton Abbey. He’s one of the few members of the Geezers who aren’t afraid of Technology club. He iPods and iPhones, downloads, and uploads, Googles and Facebooks with the aplomb of a college student. He can even understand the person from India when he puts in a troubleshooting call.

And finally, there would be a genre for standing strong during tragedies. When cancer hit our home three times he twice valiantly stood against it like Stonewall Jackson. He shaved his own head, shuttled mom to countless chemo sessions, and became an expert in making homemade juice in an effort to employ radical treatments. In mom’s final year on this Earth, he blessed her with a surprise birthday party and a couple of trips across the country to see loved ones on both sides of our family. Her last year was without a doubt the best of their 45-year marriage.

When the cancer finally won I watched him grieve. It was the absolute worst of times, but he was strong. As a now mom-less family, I truly believe that we all were bonded closer together because he didn’t fall apart. But when the cards and casseroles stopped arriving I wondered how he would get by in an empty house. Was I going to find him glued to the couch with his ubiquitous white undershirt stained red from pasta sauce?  Thankfully, I never did. Instead, he successfully reinvented himself; becoming a star of the Monterey Peninsula, a social butterfly, and a first-class Geez-about-town.

This week I heard a radio commentary from character-guru Michael Josephson talking about how a dad cannot be a friend to his children. He said that, “a father who tries to be a best friend can’t be a real father. To be a friend is voluntary. It’s an option. To be a father is a privilege, but above all it’s a moral obligation.” I agree with this. But there comes a time when a Father’s role is lessened to a degree. Maybe it’s when the child goes off to college, or gets married, or has children of his own. I think it’s possible at this time for a father to become a friend. In fact, I know it’s possible, because it’s true in my own life.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. And when you’re done reading this, feel free to resume your daily routine of napping, cursing, and belching.

Horizon Expanding in the Internet Age

Looking for something to do? Searching for like-minded people to with whom to connect? Then look no further than Meetup.com, a website that allows you to convene with all kinds of people with similar interests. Or if you’re brave enough, weird enough, or desperate enough you can meet people with freakishly dissimilar interests too.

The process is quite easy. Visit the site, plug in your location, choose a few activities or interests, and BAM! Soon your email inbox will be flooded with get-together-options that will keep you busier than an IRS employee at a Tea Party Convention. Of course, you have to get up off the couch and actually GO to the events. And that’s where things might get a little dicey because, for me at least, it means driving in LA (Ugh!), meeting new people (Yikes!), and possibly missing a ballgame or a favorite TV show. (Waaaa!)

There are hundreds of groups from which to choose. Categories include Photography, Literature, Fitness, Religion, Music, Movies, Pets, Socializing and many more. Much to my sister Jenny’s disbelief, I have been to numerous Meetup events. I’ve been hiking in Griffith Park. I have two writing groups that I often visit. I’ve been to dinners and happy hours. I went to a Thanksgiving meal.  I visited (briefly) a wine-tasting event where I was the youngest person in the room. I went bowling where I got beat by a cute Wisconsin transplant named Jerilyn who I’d meet at two previous happy hour events.

Many of the groups are based on a specific activity like hiking or drinking alcohol. I haven’t discovered a group that combines both of these pastimes, but there is one that mixes drinking and reading. Kind of like a BYOB Book Club. However, some others cater to extremely specific demographics. Here are a few:

·         The Lez Hang Out Group (Long Beach, 549 members)  -- I believe Rosie O’Donnell and Ellen Degeneres founded this group.

·        The UFO and Paranormal Research Society (Studio City, 688 members)  -- Join and get a free “ET Phone home” T-Shirt.

·        Canadians in Orange County (Santa Ana, 385 members) – Get together to watch the Bluejays and drink Labatts in Balboa.

·        Burbank Single Baby Boomers (Burbank, 46 members) – Let’s reminisce about the 50s!

·        Just Graduated from College and Moved to LA (Santa Monica, 696 members) – Bring your textbooks, we’ll have a bonfire!

·        Los Angeles Responsible Pit Bull Owners (Van Nuys, 558 members). Dog groups are very popular. Thankfully, there aren’t any cat groups.

·        VeJEWtarian (Tarzana, 62 members). Because being a vegetarian started in the book of Genesis.

 Meanwhile, other groups appeal to a wide swath of folks (in my area there are 230 groups with over 1,000 members):

·        Los Angeles Hiking Group (LA, 11,701 members)

·        Drinking with Strangers (Santa Monica, 5,708 members)

·        Los Angeles Smart Singles (LA, 2,872 members)

·        I’m a Cool Nerd (LA, 2,499 members)

·        So Cal Flash Mobbers (LA, 2,100 members)

But not all the groups appeal to everybody (or to me):

·        Libros de Traje -- Spanish Book Club (Gardena, 48 members) “Libros de Traje” es un círculo de libros para los amos y novicios de la lengua española. Huh?

·         H Socials All over Southern California (Santa Ana, 950 members) This is a social site for people with Herpes & HPV. I don’t think I even want to drive through Santa Ana anymore.

·        Wild about Mushrooms (Los Angeles, 614 members). Join us for a wild mushroom hunt as we go look for edible and medicinal mushrooms here in our backyard or in faraway places. I don’t always eat mushrooms, but when I do, I dig for my own!

·        Los Angeles Hacker News (LA, 968 members) -- A group for readers of hackernews.com, or just those interested in hacking, software and entrepreneurship. Um, really?

·        OC Christian Pregnancy Group (Anaheim, 21 members). Nuff said.

·        Los Angeles Yankee Fans (Redondo Beach, 8 members). The eight most confused people in the South Bay.

And other groups make me shake my head:

·        Loving More (Polyamory – Santa Monica, 847 members) Ok, so I had to look this one up. Polyamory is the practice of loving more than one person. Not to be confused with Polygamy because I guess you don’t have to get married. There are nine Polyamory groups. Orange County even has a Polyamory with Integrity group. How ‘bout that for an oxymoron?

·        The Galactic Federation of Light (Los Angeles, 224 members) This group is formed to help inform others about taking the mystery out of the growing ET presence and ever increasing UFO’s, knowing that if they were meant to cause any harm, they would have done so long ago. Well, maybe the ETs are just waiting for the right moment.

·        Los Angeles Urban Chicken Enthusiasts (LA, 1,279 members). This group is intended to create a community for people who either have chickens or are thinking seriously about getting chickens. I don’t think they meet up at Chik-Fil-A.

·        Los Angeles Area Pagans and Witches Group (LA, 935 members). “I’ll get you my pretty and your little dog too!”

Groups that won’t be mingling:

·        Atheist United Southbay (Torrance, 163 members) and the I Love JC Christian Singles (Los Angeles, 382 members).

·        Celebrate Recovery (South Pasadena, 12 members) and Santa Monica Beer Lovers (Santa Monica, 178 members).

·        Ready for Hilary (Beverly Hills, 13 members) and the San Fernando Valley Young Republicans (Northridge, 31 members).

·        The South Bay 2^nd Amendment Gun Group (Redondo Beach, 13 members) and the Mom’s Demand Action for Gun Sense in America Group (Irvine, 2 members).

I have a lot more time to devote to my Meetup groups now that summer vacation is here. Plus I’m just about caught up on Downton Abbey and my favorite baseball teams stinks. I’m debating whether to start with the Chicken Enthusiasts or the UFO guys. Or maybe I should start my own group:

·        Single Southpaw Teachers of Torrance? Hmm. Possibly too narrow.

I could try to track down Jerilyn. I believe she relocated to Santa Monica. But that’s way too far to drive. I guess sitting on the couch isn’t so bad.