My father at the archeological site of Sacsayhuaman alongside a curious young boy.
For years, I was lucky enough to explore the world for work as a photographer while never straying from my goals or responsibilities. With these experiences under my belt and all my focus on my career, I never considered going on a trip purely for the sake of adventure. That is, until my father, Michel, passed away in May, 2017.
As we were gathering mementos for his funeral I stumbled upon some photos I’d never seen of his travels to Peru in 1978. I knew he had visited the country but, being a man of few words, he had never shared his stories or photos with me. The mystery surrounding this foreign place mesmerized me and remained in a corner of my mind as time went on.
My father’s passing led to the shattering of my beliefs about happiness and I was left with doubt and detachment toward the life I had created for myself. As I grieved, I looked for ways to feel closer to him. Two years later, that trip rose to the surface – as did the idea of following in his steps.
My father in the ruins of Machu Picchu with a llama. At the time there was no organized transport to carry tourists to the mountain, so he and his friend went up in the open bed of a garbage truck. They seemed to be the only foreigners in Aguas Calientes during their visit.
Visiting Peru would be a way to connect with my father, and the diverse landscapes and beautiful people made it an appealing destination for my first non-work trip. I originally was going to travel with a friend, a reassuring scenario for my agitated mind, but things didn’t go as planned. Ultimately, I decided to set my worries aside, follow my gut and trust my ability to take on this journey alone.
What I discovered was more than I could have imagined. I returned with wonderful memories – engraved both in my mind and on film. Above all, I gained a new sense of self. Being on my own meant having complete freedom and the ability to experience Peru just how I wanted. The moments of solitude carried with them opportunities to release my emotions and grieve more.
As a young adult I always told anyone who would ask that I didn’t want to embark on such explorations as I would get the travel bug. Younger me was right. Travel helps lift your soul and set you free. It teaches you to be present and welcome whatever your circumstances have to offer. Never again will I underestimate the powerful and expanding effect of going on an adventure.
I am eager to dive into the next one.
My dad sitting on the sacred Intihuatana stone, with Huayna Picchu in the background. Forty years ago Machu Picchu was not yet listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site and had no surveillance, leaving tourists free to roam and do as they please.
Words and photographs by Marie H. Rainville
After landing in Cusco, I took a colectivo (mini bus) to Ollantaytambo so I could acclimatize gradually to the high altitude. I arrived late afternoon and had less than an hour before sunset, so I swiftly made my way up the rugged narrow steps to Pinkuylluna. The granaries are perched right above the village and offer a fantastic panorama of Ollantaytambo and its Inca ruins.
A traveller’s personal quest for a singular and intimate experience can turn into a difficult task when visiting a popular destination. Machu Picchu, the most visited place in Peru, is no exception. Despite getting on the first bus up to the ruins, I was among many others as the site was opening. Most visitors rushed to the first and lowest spot to take photos, while three of us kept going up to the next platform and had the chance admire to a better view for a few peaceful minutes of solitude.
This is a small glimpse of the 5,000 salt ponds of Maras that sit on a hillside. They are believed to have been around for more than 1,000 years and are owned by families who harvest the salt through an ancient process of evaporation. Since I visited, walking along the edges of the pans is no longer allowed as they were being contaminated by trash left behind by tourists.
I ran into Isidora while she was walking her sheep in Chinchero. I wanted to purchase some bracelets from her but did not have spare change so she suggested I follow her home. As she was leading the way and this beautiful scene unfolded before me, I couldn’t help but take out my camera.
Isidora at home.
At the end of the day, I was surprised at how quiet the streets of Chinchero were. As the sun sets, its light reflects on the buildings, creating subtle reddish hues on the pavement. The water path created a straight line, seemingly parting the street in half, making it the ideal composition for a picture.
In Pisac, I encountered a beautiful lady selling roses. Many women across the Peruvian High Andes still dress in traditional clothing, while others might opt for brightly coloured attire paired with a hat. Headwear says a lot about one’s roots and is a key component to Peruvian women’s wardrobe.
Vinicunca when it is still quiet. I treasured this peaceful moment as we were one of the first two groups to start ascending. The mountain sees around 1,500 tourists daily and its altitude of 5,200 metres above sea level requires proper acclimatization and fitness. Horses are available for those struggling with the hike. I was amazed at how quickly the locals come and go with their horses despite the challenging conditions.
Rainbow Mountain used to be covered in ice and snow until it was revealed around 2013 as a result of a rise in average temperatures. Vinicunca is a true miracle of nature with its multicoloured stripes, each indicating the presence of a different mineral composition. In my eyes, the Red Valley (pictured) is equally spectacular. The dominant red shade suggests iron oxide. Chlorite and clay are most likely responsible for the green, and the yellow could be due to iron sulfide.
While visitors were starting to line up to take selfies at the summit of Rainbow Mountain, a fellow Canadian and I couldn’t help but contemplate the scenery that stood opposite from the main attraction. The overlapping peaks with the minuscule llamas and alpacas looked straight from a painting. Having finally escaped from the shaded side of the mountain we could slowly warm up in the sunshine.
The Yanahuara scenic overlook offers the best view of El Misti volcano and the rooftops of Arequipa. Dozens of people meet at this viewpoint to immortalize the landscape, while others have professional portrait sessions. At sunset, a beautiful spectacle takes place as the sun’s rays glide up the volcano and disappear within a few minutes. Every day I spent in the White City I would return to see it happen once more.
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Globe archives: In a sacred valley, a lesson in trust
