When this photo was taken, I could barely stand after suffering from severe altitude sickness after experiencing Puno’s altitude of 3860 meters (12420 feet) the previous day. Had been a miserable wretch throughout the night while cuddling in the cold of a pearl white bathroom while bounding in and out of clarity until I passed out from exhaustion.

Our good fortunes took a turn for the better once we were introduced to a young Peruvian doctor willing to open his clinic on a Sunday morning. After spending 5 hours attached to an IV drip and a mask of streaming oxygen I felt well enough to proceed on our goal of seeing Machu Picchu by our trips end.

The train from Puno to Cusco rambled along the high arid plateau with tumbleweed and the token dilapidated shack in the foreground while glaciered peaks dotted the horizon on either side of the track. We made one stop to make sure the mandatory tourist contributions to the local economy were made, but our journey was straightforward and consistent as we made our way down the dry valleys of the Andes.