Ch’aska Qoyllur

We started before the sky changed color. The path entered the forest almost immediately, and within minutes I could no longer see the mountains that had been beside me the day before. Trees rose high above the trail, their branches disappearing into darkness. Moss hung from trunks in long strands, and every stone beneath my feet was slick with water. The dog kept moving ahead, stopping occasionally to look back at me before disappearing around another bend. The llama followed at its usual patient pace.

I could see only a few steps of the trail at a time. That bothered me more than I expected. Somewhere beyond the forest was the place I was trying to reach, yet there was no view of it. No distant ridge to orient myself toward. No valley below showing how far I had come. The path simply entered the trees and continued.

For a while I kept looking upward, hoping the canopy would open enough to show me something. Eventually it did. Between two enormous trees I could see part of the sky. One bright point of light hung above the dark outline of the mountains. I stopped and watched it while Sami wandered back and sat several steps ahead of me as though wondering what had become so interesting.

The trail disappeared into darkness beyond him. I realized I was waiting for the light to tell me where the path went. It couldn't. All it could tell me was that morning existed somewhere beyond these trees. So I started walking again.

The stones were still wet. The forest was still dark. I still couldn't see where the trail would take me after the next bend. Yet people had walked this road before me. The stones beneath my feet had been placed with purpose. I didn't need to see the entire trail to trust the next few steps. By the time daylight reached the forest floor, the bright star had vanished.

I no longer needed to see it.