A leadership journey on my way to Markahuasi

Sometimes, we rush our way to reach a particular goal that we consider imperative to achieve right away, without reasoning about the time and circumstances of our life that could affect our endeavors. We do not accept the meaning of the obstacles that appear in our way to success. It takes leadership to keep ourselves in the right direction, making good choices, and focusing in what really matters when targeting a goal in our life. Hiking over the Peruvian Andean Range en route to Markahuasi—a high plateau at 3650 m.a.s.l., where gigantic rocks shaped in many figures that look like humans and animals form bizarre scenery—is a metaphor that could convey my leadership journey.  Further, it shows that what matters is to reach the goal, not how long it takes to do it.

We began our adventure at dawn, traveled in a bus from Lima, and then on top of a truck to the base of the mountain.  We did not have much information about how difficult was the way up to the plateau, just that it was a vertical climb and that it will take us two hours to reach the top.  After an hour climbing, we started to feel the effects of the altitude—tiredness, lack of oxygen, and mild headaches—which prompted my friends to stop, and then questioned if the destination was worth the effort.  I was determined to reach the goal, which was to see the sunset from the top of the mountain on the first day of the journey.

Suddenly, an old man appeared coming from the side of the mountain carrying wood sticks on his back.  I asked him if there was a better way to reach Markahuasi, and he pointed his finger toward the way he came from, a route that was invisible for us until that moment.  So we all agreed to go that way with the hope that it will ease the climb.  After two hours climbing, there was no hint of Markahuasi and its bizarre rocks.  My friends got anxious, and complained to me.  I did not show them my worries, but I was also concerned of getting lost.  We were exhausted, so we sat down on the ground and rest for a while looking at the beautiful scenery around us.  And then, when I turned to see where we were heading, I saw a boy wearing a hat and pushing a ring with a stick coming down the mountain, and I could not stop recalling what I was once told by another friend:  there are elves and goblins that show up any time in the Andes.  The kid looked like somebody coming from a fairy tale, but he was definitely a human being, so when he approached us, I asked him if we were in the right direction to Markahuasi, and he replied, “yes, it is just over there,” pointing to the direction he came from, “but how long it will take us to get there?” I asked, “it is just over there,” he replied again, and then he left.  Enough for me to encourage the group to keep climbing, my conclusion was that since we were hiking up around the mountain it will take us longer to reach the top.  However, because of the high altitude, it took more effort to hike as we moved forward.

Rapidly, a dark cloud darkened the sky, and then it started to rain, we were not prepared for wet weather, so we got soaked and started to feel cold.  Our backpacks felt heavier, and the altitude sickness got worse—the pills we brought were not enough to stop the symptoms.  The rain stopped at the third hour of actual climbing, and we just fell down to the ground completely exhausted.  I could not stand it any more, and just when I started to regret coming to this trip, another boy wearing a hat came from nowhere and look at us laid on the ground.  He had a donkey!  The boy agreed to take us to Markahuasi and used his animal to carry our backpacks.  He said that Markahuasi was “…just over there.”  Encouraged by this encounter we kept hiking up the mountain for one more hour, battling with hail, higher altitude, less oxygen than before; and repeatedly asking the boy: “how long it will take us to get there?” and getting the same answer: “it is just over there.”  Finally, the sky opened and we found ourselves walking in Markahuasi just before sunset.  It was a difficult and hard endeavor, but the satisfaction of reaching our goal was as great as the scenery we ended looking at on that evening.      

    

My experience on my way to Markahuasi, for instance, when I was told by the locals that my goal was “…just over there,” could have meant that what matters is to reach the goal, not how long it takes to do it.  And that by being aware of the environment that surrounds me, I can listen to hints that may help me in reaching my goals as well. Recently, I have experienced a similar situation that led me to achieve an old objective put aside for many years. Since I was in grade 11 and living in Peru, I thought about studying in a University and getting a degree, particularly in the United States; I even pictured myself playing soccer for the institution as a way of funding my education. However, because of the circumstances of my life, I left this goal standing-by for many years. I forgot about it as the years went by. Four years ago I saw an ad in the transit system advertising a university, and then another one, and more in the following days. These continuous encounters with university ads made me reflect about the current situation of my life, and thought it was a good time and the perfect moment to achieve this academic goal. And then, I looked for the right adult university-degree-program, and found it right here in Vancouver, BC. More than thirty years have passed, and now this goal has been fulfilled, still in North America, and without the need to play soccer to fund it.  I thought maybe the following will add to the metaphor in terms of ‘not worrying about the time’ when trying to reach a particular goal in life: “…what matters is to reach the goal, not how long it takes to do it.

Copyright 2012 Renzo Pastorino

Photos by:
Top: Personas by pepiuox, Personas Gallery (Firefox).
Middle: Rony Fajardo Ferrec...
Bottom: Nomad Peru.