So there we were, 5020 meters up on the Choro Inca Trail. The summit of the Wilimanquilisani. What a name for a mountain. That's something else than the Grebbeberg. We drank our matte de coca, looked around at the Illimani, at the mountain which will be climbed next Friday evening, at the city of El Alto, and at the spot where the plane crash had taken place in the 1970s, the latter being a site we were going to visit as well. And so we moved down to a sheltered spot to eat our lunch, and we walked on over the loose stones, along the stunning sights and down to the rest of the plane wreck. Not much was left; the community of Chacaltaya, located down in the valley, took most of its parts to use for their shelter. All we could find were pieces of the motor, some wires, and a few pieces of clothing. And then, pastor Rob read about something that happened in the time of Moses. A cloud was on the mountain, and the people stood at its foot. But also on the summit we could meet God. How beautifully was it all made. How we watched in reverence. We sang a song for our God and headed back. This was a harder walk after having rested a while and having gotten lazy. The fog moved in on us, and if we hadn't had Felipe with us as our guide we would have been lost. But we found our way back to the bus and journeyed back safely. We were tired and dirty, but the good spirits made the journey a pleasant one. Looking forward to the next summit trip!