Peru Part Two: Descent and Release
Introduction
After the jungle expedition ended, we stayed a few nights in Tarapoto, walking slowly through the streets and absorbing local life without the pressure of cameras or purpose. The intensity of the forest had eased, yet something within me remained unsettled. When the group flew back to Lima via the same grassy runway we had landed on, I sensed that my time in Peru was not yet complete.
Rather than returning home, the BBC editor, cameraman and I decided to continue on to Machu Picchu. I could not fully explain the pull, only that leaving without seeing it felt unfinished. I sensed that the journey was shifting from outward exploration to something more personal, though I did not yet know how far that shift would take me.
Machu Picchu
We flew to Cusco and continued by train towards Machu Picchu. At that time, it was still possible to approach by Chinook helicopter, and the descent onto the mountain plateau was loud and exhilarating, the sound echoing sharply through the surrounding peaks. The arrival felt dramatic, but once the noise faded the landscape settled into stillness.
I walked slowly through the ruins and eventually sat near the Temple of the Sun. Placing my hands on the stones, I felt their solidity beneath my palms, grounded and enduring. Standing near the cliffs, I sensed the symbolic presence of the condor, one of Peru’s sacred shamanic animals, carried on the wind that moved across the mountain face.
The scale of Machu Picchu was humbling rather than theatrical. It felt deliberate, ancient and patient. It did not overwhelm me in the way the jungle had; instead, it created space. Yet even in that space, I knew something remained unresolved.
Not Ready to Leave
After exploring the site, we descended the winding road that zigzagged sharply down the mountainside. Local children ran straight down the hillside, laughing and waving as our bus navigated each bend cautiously below them. Their ease contrasted with the careful progress of the vehicle, and I noticed how often my own mind still leaned towards caution.
At the village market before catching the train back to Cusco, I found a crystal skull among the stalls and bought it as a reminder of the journey. At the time it felt symbolic, though I did not yet understand why. It was as if I was gathering markers of something that had not yet fully unfolded.
We returned to Lima, but I was not ready to leave Peru. Something in me knew that another step still waited. I stayed in contact with a guide named Jugla and arranged to fly back with him to Tarapoto, this time without the structure of an expedition or the presence of cameras.
A Different Kind of Return
Returning to Tarapoto without the BBC crew changed the tone immediately. There was no agenda beyond presence. We moved through villages near where our jungle journey had begun, and everything felt more direct and personal.
Jugla suggested that I participate in an ayahuasca ceremony to confront the inner fear and negative thought patterns that continued to linger. I had no real understanding of what the experience would entail. I only knew that thought alone was no longer shifting what remained unresolved inside me.
Trusting him felt simpler than trying to analyse the decision. I sensed that whatever I had been circling around would not move through reflection alone. Something deeper would have to surface.
The Ceremony
The ceremony took place in a simple dugout with a shaman and a small group. Mats were arranged in a circle, the space contained and quiet. I began seated cross-legged, holding tightly to the idea that I could remain conscious and in control of whatever arose.
At a certain point the shaman observed me and encouraged me to lie down. When I did, the sense of control I had been gripping began to dissolve. What followed was not visual spectacle but darkness. A deep and unmistakable fear rose within me, not abstract but physical, as though I might not return from wherever my mind was going.
For six or seven hours I purged through vomiting, wave after wave moving through me. The dominant sensation was terror of losing control and a fear that I might die in order to become something else. Throughout it all, the shaman and Jugla remained steady and present, offering quiet reassurance without drama. Their containment mattered more than anything mystical happening within me.
Release
At times during the ceremony it felt as though my mind was travelling beyond my reach. Yet alongside the fear there was release. Something rigid within me began to loosen, and in that loosening there was relief rather than collapse. The purge was not symbolic; it was physical, relentless and exhausting.
When the ceremony ended, the world did not explode into colour or revelation. Instead, it felt subtly different. The following days were quieter. Jugla took me through nearby villages and markets, and ordinary experiences felt sharper and more immediate. Even the burn of heavily spiced chillies seemed heightened, eased only slightly by sugar water.
A few days later I returned to Tarapoto, then flew back to Lima and finally home. That marked the end of my first journey to Peru. The outward travel had concluded, but something inward had shifted. I did not yet have language for what had changed, only the sense that something I had been holding onto tightly had finally begun to release.
After the descent, what remained was the necessary work of containment and responsibility.
Peru Return – Closing What Was Opened (Part 1)
Peru – Into the Jungle (Part 1)
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