The Spiritual Trail to the Mountains: A True Spiritual Experience in Cusco
A Journey That Chose Me
Spiritual Experiences in Cusco aren’t always found where you expect them.
Sometimes, they begin in a quiet room, with a chance meeting, and the voice of a woman who speaks of mountains like they’re family.
That’s how I met Viviana — and that’s how this journey began.
Some journeys don’t begin on the trail. They begin in quiet places — with a whisper, a meeting, a spark.
We crossed paths in a small gathering. She wasn’t even supposed to be there — but life, or maybe something bigger, brought her in. She spoke about her home, about sacred lagoons, ancestral rituals, and a dream: to offer travelers something deeper than sightseeing.
Weeks later, she invited me to walk with her.
I went with Clément, a generous Belgian photographer, his partner Aurora, and Haim, a Peruvian entrepreneur with Jewish roots, creating ultralight tents. Viviana’s father joined us too — quiet, grounded, and as connected to the mountain as the stones beneath our feet.
And just like that, we began a different kind of journey.
The Mountain That Calls You
If you’re chasing one of those neatly packaged Spiritual Experiences in Cusco, you’ll find plenty of options. But this… this was something else.
We arrived in Pacchanta, sitting at 4,200 to 4,600 meters above sea level (13,780 to 15,090 ft), where the air gets thinner, but life feels fuller. The usual tourist path through the Seven Lagoons is fast, done on horseback, all in a day. But we came to walk. Slowly. Gently.
Over the course of five hours — round trip — we moved through a landscape that felt alive. Alpacas grazed. The wind hummed. The mountains watched.
And with every step, I felt myself returning to something I hadn’t touched in a long time — the reason why Spiritual Experiences in Cusco aren’t found in itineraries, but in the quiet moments in between.
Not Just a Hike — A Pilgrimage
Viviana had told us: “We’ll only visit one lagoon. But we’ll visit it properly.”
And that changed everything.
This wasn’t a hike for the sake of movement. It was a pilgrimage. We weren’t chasing kilometers or photos. We were letting the mountain guide the rhythm.
It’s what makes this one of the most powerful Spiritual Experiences in Cusco — the way it asks you to slow down, to listen, and to feel.
This path didn’t challenge our bodies as much as it invited our hearts to open.
Walking with Viviana
Viviana walks like someone who belongs to the land. She shared stories of her grandmother’s herbs, of wishes buried in the earth, of rituals whispered in Quechua.
She didn’t “guide” us. She held the space.
Every story she told wove us deeper into the mountain’s embrace. And somehow, with every pause, every smile, every silence — we were being prepared for what was to come.
Rituals of Permission and Connection
Before reaching the lagoon, Viviana handed each of us a small stone.
“Put your thoughts here,” she said. “Ask the mountain for permission.”
We pressed our palms together in silence, and laid our stones on the earth. Then came the q’intu — three coca leaves, one for gratitude, one for our deepest desire, and one for the spirit of the mountain. We whispered into them and offered them to the sacred water. This was ancestral memory in motion.
A Picnic with Purpose
After the q’intu, we gathered near the lagoon to eat.
Viviana’s father served us native potatoes in all their glory, trucha frita fresh and warm, and artisanal beer, chilled and earthy.
There were no chairs. Just rocks, andean blankets, and the warmth of the sun on our faces. We shared food. We shared glances. We shared the joy of being present in something real.
This was a picnic with soul — a celebration of simplicity after sacredness.
The Final Blessing: Washed and Whole
When we finished eating, Viviana called us back to the lagoon.
She held a bundle of herbs, dipped them into the freezing water, and began to speak softly in Quechua. Her voice was a prayer — a call to Apu Ausangate, her sacred mountain, to bless and protect us.
One by one, she touched us with the cold water and herbs — on our foreheads, our shoulders, our hearts.
And in that moment, I understood why this is one of those rare Spiritual Experiences in Cusco that stays with you.
It wasn’t just about ritual. It was about presence, intention, and the feeling of being deeply seen — not just by a person, but by the mountain itself.
I felt something leave me.
And something purer take its place.
The mountain was saying: “You may return now.”
What Makes This Experience Unique
Too often, travelers come to Peru for a stamp: Cusco, Machu Picchu, done.
But they miss the real Peru — the one that lives in people like Viviana, in the silence between coca leaves, in the healing power of water at 4,600 meters.
This is not a tour.
It’s not for everyone.
It’s for those who are ready to slow down, to feel, and to walk not as tourists — but as pilgrims.
Viviana’s Dream – A Future Rooted in Spirit
Viviana’s father owns a piece of land with natural hot springs. Her dream is to build adobe houses, to welcome travelers into a space of rest, healing, and reconnection.
This isn’t a business. It’s a vision. A sacred one.
And if this experience grows, it will help that dream take form — with travelers who come not to consume, but to honor.
When the Mountain Enters You
On the way back, something unexpected happened.
Haim, walking beside me, opened his heart. He told me his story. And I listened.
There, among the silence and wind, we shared a human moment so real, so open, that it felt almost therapeutic.
Because that’s what this journey does.
It breaks you open.
And it fills you again — with connection, with stillness, with a truth only a mountain can offer.
This is more than a walk.
It’s a return to the soul.
I left Ausangate with more than memories.
I left with something I didn’t know I was missing — a feeling of deep connection, of being seen, held, and changed.
I’m so grateful to Viviana, to her family, and to everyone who was part of this experience.
Because now I know: the most powerful Spiritual Experiences in Cusco don’t happen in crowded sites or fast itineraries — they happen in the quiet, in the stories, and in the sacred spaces that still live in the Andes.
This wasn’t just a walk in the mountains.
It was a moment that reminded me why I do what I do.
