I recently returned from a much anticipated trip to Peru. My husband and I (along with a friend) had planned on going to Peru back in 2020, but like so many trips that year, it got canceled. Then, we made plans to go last year, but when the big payment was due, there was quite a lot of civil unrest in the country. We decided to transfer our deposit to another destination. Last fall, we started to focus once again on Peru. It’s been a big “bucket list” item for my husband, so we couldn’t just let it fall away.

One of the big issues we had to contend with, as the trip was pushed from 2020 to 2023 and finally to 2024, was how our aging bodies would do in managing a trip that involved at least some hiking near Machu Picchu. The trip in 2020 included a four or five day hike that would eventually bring us to the ancient city. But, I knew that I could no longer take on the demands of that kind of hike. Plus, the more we learned about the country, the more we wanted to have time to explore other areas. In the end, we chose an itinerary that included a one-day hike along the Inca Trail that would take us to the Sun Gate (I should note that the “Sun Gate” designation is a more modern name, rather than an Inca name, for the glorious viewpoint that looks down on the magnificent city of Machu Picchu). The following day, we would explore the ancient city.

As it happened, my husband ended up with some kind of food poisoning episode during the night before the big hike. Given the four-year wait to get to that point, he just couldn’t conceive of missing it. After an anxious wait after medications were administered around 4:00am, his body started to settle down. When our guide came to pick us up at 6:30am, we informed him of the situation. He suggested that we purchase a couple of bottles of electrolytes, with sips of the solution taken at regular intervals. We made it to the trail without incident, so we were all feeling good about our adventure, if a bit tired.

The day was a hot one and our guide, Freddy, told us that the first half of the seven-mile hike would be the most challenging— almost all uphill with very little shade. I’m typically a slow hiker and I was that day as well, so it didn’t seem at all strange that I started to lag behind our small group. But, somewhere along the way, after almost two miles of hiking, I realized that something was wrong. I wasn’t just feeling my usual hiking discomfort. I felt very hot and like I was going to throw up. I couldn’t really string a complete sentence in my own head. When my husband came to check on me, I just started muttering that things weren’t right.

Eventually, I was coaxed to a shaded shelter. There was another group taking a break, with another guide, there. That guide and our guide knew each other. The two guides realized there was something wrong and after a little discussion, in which they agreed that I was showing early signs of heat stroke, they sprang into action. My hat was taken off my head, doused with water and put back on my head. A cloth was found that was also doused with water. It was put around my neck. My pack was taken from me and was attached to the guide’s pack. And I was told to start drinking some of the electrolyte solution.

As all of this was happening, I was mostly in a fog. But, I remember two things quite clearly— the concern of the guides and the concern of one of the hikers from the other group. I think that group was a made up of Germans. One of the women in the group was clearly worried for me. In her halting English, she asked what she could do for me. At that point, there really wasn’t anything else to do. I just needed to let my body cool down and try to set out again. Still, her concerned face touched me.

After about 20-30 minutes, I was feeling much better. After lunch by a lovely water fall (and more cool water for my hat and cloth around my neck) and our arrival at the easier half of the hike, I was feeling much, much better. At some point after lunch, we ran into that group of Germans and their guide. The woman and the guide were genuinely thrilled not only to see me still on the trail, but doing well. It was a nice moment.

In a world that seems increasingly full of hostility and meanness, where a candidate for president of the United States seems not only to pride himself in name-calling and threatening violence upon others, but appears to have captured the hearts and minds of so many Americans who revel in the bullying and intimidation, it seems even more important to observe and celebrate those small moments when kindness is the central theme. And, when kindness involves strangers showing care and concern, when strangers go out of their way to offer assistance, it’s a moment to be treasured. And, more than that, such moments ought not be offered up with gratitude and then sent to the back of one’s memory. Instead, they ought to be held close and nurtured, that they might take root and grow.