Parque Nacional Huascaran
Being in this place I feel closer to God, or what they call ´God´, than ever before. This is the essence of the PachaMama in all her glory, although the mountains do have an innate male quality to them; seemingly tough and unforgiving, looming distant and domineering over the fertile landscape below. Their initial impression is altogether menacing but I am incredibly attracted to them, drawn to their sharp features and jagged peaks shrouded behind a fog of mystery. Their energy pulsates, dancing with the feminine flow of the river as it curves gracefully along the valley floor. Sister streams cascade down from hidden springs; deep seeded tears of a man longing to be truly understood by those who come to witness his splendor. Few are courageous enough to endure his unpredictable temper and bone chilling storms, but those who commit their hearts to the journey are rewarded with the knowledge of his innermost secrets and lifted to a beauty that is known only to these silent giants of the earth; angelic kings crowned with a halo of snow. But ultimately a mountain cannot stand without the intricate root systems of the PachaMama´s grasses, shrubs, and trees; without her support he would crumble. So as the mist swirls blue overhead, perhaps it is simply being in the presence of this beautifully delicate relationship, this natural balance of masculine and feminine, that brings me closer to ´God´, closer to myself. Perhaps there is something in the overwhelming feeling that I´m being watched, not just by the cows but by the air itself...
Cebollapampa, entre Nevados Huascaran y Huandoy