Fake Birds

The pounding drums of Quechuan music playing in the background couldn’t keep up with my heartbeat as our little minibus rolled towards Km 82 – the marker which meant the start of an arduous four day hike to Machu Picchu which I was now looking upon with utter dread. Sure, I’d started out elated but a trial run around Písac and the surrounding Sacred Valley the previous day had deflated me – punctured that emotional parachute as it were – and promptly broug…