Machu Picchu: The final chapter in my mountain travels

Off the train, we had a 10-minute walk through the Aguas Calientes nightlife to arrive at our hotel.  A large river split the town in two; one side was clearly residential, and the other was filled with lights and people.  We crossed one of several bridges heading towards the lights and commotion. Along the way we walked through skinny streets with no cars, and on two occasions the path spilled into a small, open square with a fountain in the middle.  Once we checked into our hotel, we went to find some real food to fill us after subsisting on only the energy bars and water.
Our arrival in Aguas Calientes was only a day or two after the town had reopened its doors to the public after a hard summer of heavy flooding.  Our options at the restaurant we chose were limited to plates with rice, beef, alpaca, eggs and some vegetables.  Trains had not yet arrived with basics like cheese and flour, so anything made with bread or dough was then off the menu.  I settled on a tortilla with vegetables, which is really a meal similar to an omelet:, but much different from the tortillas familiar to Mexico and San Diego.   We finished our meals, grateful to the people who had served us what they were able to prepare, and I left happy to greet a sound night's sleep.
The morning exposed the surroundings that were previously hidden by the night time. Tall, steep mountains surrounded us, with steep rock faces, and where the gradient was anything less than a cliff, the mountains were vibrant with lush, green vegetation, bright flowers and bird calls.  The region has been referred to as "the eyebrow of the jungle," and the bright blue, shimmering butterfly that fluttered past my window welcomed me with a dance.
That morning we boarded a bus that drove us down a road along the river, crossed a bridge and began to wind huge switchbacks up the face of a large mountain.  We finally arrived at the top, and after receiving our tickets, we were allowed to proceed through the main entrance to Machu Picchu. 
On the other side, the view was spectacular.  An ancient stone city, constructed out of pride and reverence for the gods, sat more than a thousand feet up from the river flowing through the deep ravine below. Mountains carved by ages of geologic and environmental sculpting formed pinnacles and ridges painted by dense, green trees that rose up to meet the clouds.  
The intricacy of the architectural design of the buildings was fascinating, and the design of the town reflected a hierarchical society still fundamentally dependent on terraced agriculture. Years upon years, packed with endurance and determination, were spent constructing such a magnificent place that people once called home. The city lies between two mountains; Huayna Picchu (Quechua for Young Peak) is the peak that is most often seen in the backdrop in photographs. Three friends and I decided to follow a lesser known trail that scales the much taller peak called Machu Picchu (Old Mountain).
After an hour and a half of high-altitude slow-moving, through humid forest, along cliff faces and up stone staircases that drop hundreds of feet off the edge, we finally made it to the peak of 10,300 feet. The 360 degree panoramic view was breathtaking. There were green mountains as far as the eye could see, with a haze of rain falling from clouds over the jungles in the distance and blue sky and sunlight that illuminated the rest.  The city of Machu Picchu rested some 1,000 feet below us, and at that moment I found what I had been seeking: a place that made me feel humble and centralized in vast expanses of time and Earth, and I drank the life-giving energy that enveloped me.