Happy birthday

It was half past midnight.

I was struggling to sleep on an upper bunk bed that felt more like a mesh coffin than a place to rest thanks to a mosquito net that ended two inches from my face.

The heat of the jungle, and the forty or so bodies in the surrounding bunks, was oppressive.

I could hear dogs and God knows what else shuffling about below, and to top it all, I had a jumper stuffed into my crotch to ease the raw chaffing of my inner thighs.

It occurred to me that there were more comfortable ways to spend a birthday.

I quietly sang myself a round of happy birthday and improvised the final line:

Happy birthday to me

Happy birthday to me

Happy birthday dear Claire,

You've done this to yourself.

Four hours and not much sleep later, I clambered down the side of the bunk bed ready for day three of our trek - the day of our ascent to the Lost City itself. 

Emily, bless her, had carried birthday cards and a bar of Hotel Chocolat through the jungle for me at the behest of my friend, Shane. 

At this point, it seemed the chocolate had weathered the journey better than either of us.

Our guides suggested me and Emily might want a head start so there was less pressure on us to reach the 1200 step staircase that would lead us into the city.

It was a kind thought, but we ended up setting off only five minutes before everyone else and the pace was a bit manic, so I ended up falling behind everyone anyway and feeling slightly panicked as scores of people past me. 

We had a little river crossing to do, and the process of removing my boots and socks, and wading through the lovely cool water helped me to regain my composure.

On the other side of the river lay the stone staircase, built 1000 years before, by people escaping the clutches of an encroaching colonial power.

The stones were steep in places, shallow in others, moss-covered, uneven and slippy. It was an exhausting climb, made easier by the presence of our guide, Maria, who casually shot the breeze with me during my rest breaks.

There were sections where I had to crawl up on my hands and feet. There were a couple of times where I felt so tired I almost lost my balance.

I knew my group was already up there, waiting for their tour of the city to start, and so I climbed and climbed, sweaty and flagging with every step.

And then I was there.

As I staggered into the city, my group came into view and as I approached, they started an enthusiastic chorus of happy birthday, before, one by one, all 14 of them plus our three guides gave me a hug and kiss.

It was quite a welcome to this incredibly special place, and one I'll never forget.

Before we entered the main body of the city we gathered in a stone circle for a group meditation. 

Our guides asked us to leave our negativity in the circle before we continued on our journey. We held the silence together and created a feeling of peace between us.

As we began our tour, Maria reminded me to listen to the birds. 'The indigenous people believe the birds are messengers, listen to them welcoming you,' she said.

We spent a joyful three hours strolling around the city. We met the city shaman who lives there with his family, learned more history, enjoyed a platter of brownies and I shared my birthday chocolate with the group.

It was carefree, and peaceful, and restorative.

When it was time to leave, the struggle of the morning was gone. 

We still had four hours of walking ahead of us as the city is only the half way point, to get home, you have to go back the way you came.

Emily stuck with me on our way back to camp, and we ’messed about at the back’, as we told our campmates later (we even listened to an episode of The Archers).

As I descended the 1200 steps, and later the section we'd slogged up only the day before, I was bowled over by the what we'd achieved.

There's nothing like the way back down to show you how well you did on the way up.

Perspective is everything.