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Inca inspirations, by John A Harrison

Inca inspirations

New BGTW member John A Harrison won the Wales Book of the Year award for 2011 for his Cloud Road: A Journey Through the Inca Heartland

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Everywhere in the world you find calendars featuring Machu Picchu. Still a schoolboy, I saw it for the first time in a National Geographic Magazine I read while waiting for a haircut. The vista from the mountain onto the ruins was a window onto another world. In the middle of the wild mountains was a citadel. In the centre of the citadel was a tranquil lawn. A tree stood alone in the lawn. I put my finger to the page and wished: I want to be there.

It took a long time, wishing is a slow form of transport and Peru is a long way away. Mine was not an adventurous family. When they wanted excitement, they holidayed with relatives in Dudley.
When I finally got to Machu Picchu it hit me in the same way as when I saw the Pyramids and the Great Wall. The extreme familiarity of the pictures couldn’t detract from the joy of being there. The grey curtains opened, and the marvel lay spread below, side-lit by the early morning sun. It caught at the heart. I walked down through the clouds after nearly three days on the trail, all pain forgotten. Now I could touch the dream.

I decided I wanted to come back and travel through unknown Peru, through the heart of the Inca empire. I would travel alone for the most part, not least because it was not easy to find someone else daft enough to do it. I would walk the remote areas, and begin on the equator itself, in Ecuador, the northern edge of empire. I set aside five months. It was exhausting, but probably the most satisfying thing I have ever done. The result is Cloud Road. I am thrilled to have won the Wales Book of the Year. I have the memories, the book, and a leaf from a tree that still stands on a tranquil lawn, far away in the Andes.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 
 
     

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 "My Dead Sea stroll to the spa began unpromisingly. An old Jordan hand chided me for breaking every social taboo in the land: wet hair (suggestive of steamy sex, not a good look in Ramadan, when romps are banned till sunset); exposed nape of the neck (erotic provocation); bare knees (erogenous zone and poor sartorial sense); looking men in the eye (looser morals than Salome, that local minx). But the irrepressible staff smiled serenely at my crimes, while possibly consigning me to Sodom, just down the track in Biblical terms."

© Lisa Gerard-Sharp, Holy Mud, Times Online, 2007

 

 

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