The first time I traveled through Peru, I was with two of my friends, Joe and Karl. We were there around two weeks and had plans to visit Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca, and the Nazca Lines. Not much time, considering the size of the country.

We started in Cusco and, unfortunately, arrived at the tail end of a long rain. As we were looking to book our Machu Picchu experience with a local tour company, we quickly learned that a major portion of the railroad tracks had been washed out. Repairs were underway, but there was no telling how long it would take.

Other than hiking four days on the Inca Trail, there was apparently only one other way to get to Machu Picchu – by helicopter. The three of us set out one day to figure out just how to do that. What a crazy day that turned out to be – there were only so many seats and EVERYONE wanted them.

Finally, after literally hours spent waiting in a mob-like line, managed to get our tickets… and happened upon a ride to the landing field to boot. The next morning, at about 7:30am (the same morning I took this photo!), we found ourselves at the field with more than three hours to kill. We were in the tiny town of Ollantaytambo, though, so at least there were things to do and see.

A terraced hillside was visible from the football field. Our guidebooks confirmed that it was the major ruins of Ollantaytambo, called “The Fortress,” this terraced hillside was one of the only places where the Incas were able to successfully repel the Spanish invaders. We shouldered our packs and began wandering our way through the cobblestone streets to get there.

It was early; so early that there wasn’t even a security guard watching the gate. We looked, but there was no indication that we couldn’t enter the park. Later, as we came back out, the ticket taker was there and asked us to pay the $2 fee. We were more than happy to comply.

At the time, I never realized how nice it was to have the park all to ourselves. We were able to climb up the steps, set our packs down, and explore the ruins at our leisure. There was plenty of time and space to take as many pictures as we liked and we didn’t have to worry about errant tourists straying into the frame. (My return trip in 2003 was bedlam in comparison – a photographer would count himself very lucky indeed to snap anything other than a macro shot of the Ollantaytambo ruins without a neon red poncho in it.)

At any rate, while I was off exploring a part of the ruins by myself, I happened to notice Karl standing upon one of the massive cut stones that the ruins are known for. I can tell now, looking at the photo, that I was thinking only of capturing the moment – a vacation photo to give to Karl when we got home, nothing more. Had I been paying more attention to my composition, I probably wouldn’t have placed my subject spot-on in the center of the frame. But with the cloud above to balance out the stone below, I believe that the photo, just like Karl, stands well enough on its own.