Vertical Limit: The Inca Trail

… The clouds tumbled down the lush green mountains as the first rays of light streaked through the dense skies and through the rear-window. The air was humid with the early morning mist and the driver habitually turned on and off his wipers. The navigator beside him yawned as if he was already bored. I stirred from my Tuesday morning stupor as the car lurched precariously along another curve. Beside me our chef slept like a log. On the other side, my soon-to-be wife, slept with her hair in tussles, beautiful and with a confident calmness about her. We were in Peru and on our way to Ollantaytambo to the beginning of an epic trek – The Inca Trail…
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Made By Men, Touched By God: Australia

The night rolls away with a puff of wind among the vast, cold plains of the New South Wales winter. We drive through the thunder and with the rain almost impeding us at every turn. The wipers move with a death rattle that could leave us in the lurch at any point of time. We’re singing songs along the way, oblivious to the rain outside, yet enjoying every minute of it, smoking cigarettes, talking about old times and all the things in life that won’t matter to us during the next 10 days. The Mid-western Highway abruptly stops its sprint as it ends with a final sigh into a T-junction – gear shift, clutch, brake – the engine almost complains as we bring the car to a halt after taking a left towards Hay.
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