The second to last day of our trip involved a daddy-daughter trip to Rainbow Mountain.

During a summer, Spanish class I heard about the Montaña de Colores. Melting glaciers recently revealed the Andes best kept secret. Only 80 tourists are allowed to visit Rainbow Mountain per day. Here, the indigenous residents seek to protect and conserve their sacred mountains.

I scoured TripAdvisor for tour recommendations. Every tour company outlined an arduous journey. Visitors lamented the six-hour round trip hike which did not account for the two-hour long bus ride to and from. They warned of altitude sickness and required the assistance of donkeys for rent.

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In case you were wondering, neither my Dad or I are avid hikers. Though we consider ourselves reasonably in-shape (by most standards), we cringed at such an itinerary.

Then I found Rainbow Mountain Expeditions. Rolando, the tour guide, was so highly praised by the internet that he is basically a Peruvian celebrity. His tour offered an alternative route. After a two-hour van ride, the hike was only forty-five minutes. Also, the tour company provides authentic, Peruvian breakfast and lunch. Ding, ding, ding, I thought, we have a winner!

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We woke up around 4:30 am and were in the van with nine other passengers. You can book a private tour, but I love to meet other tourists. Dad felt a little claustrophobic because he is a big man in a small van, but we made it work.

At breakfast, we were served biscuits and eggs with ham. I enjoyed tasting a new Peruvian dish; softened Quinoa mixed with an warm apple juice. We were encouraged to drink Coco leaves in our tea. A remedy for altitude sickness, the bitter coco leaves were what the Andes original inhabitants and today's tourists are prescribed.

Suffice it to say, I drank enough Coco tea to make regular visits to the lavatory.

Our group consisted of three couples with Dad and me.

On the van ride, I discussed educational reform with a Canadian teacher while her boyfriend discussed every sport imaginable with a Portuguese man. The boyfriend spouted off other peaks that he and his girlfriend had hiked. She admitted to experiencing altitude sickness and I felt my nerves kick in.

What were my Dad and I doing? We were not prepared for thirty-degree temperatures and hurricane winds while climbing a 17,000 foot mountain peak!

Oh yes, in case you were wondering, 17,000 feet is the same height as the base camp for Mount Everest. Are you panicking? Don't worry, they said that it will only feel like you are breathing through a straw.

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For the ride's remainder, I mentally listed all the women who were more capable of climbing such a peak. None of them were like me, fresh off a broken knee cap and physical therapy.

Struggling to evade defeatism, I was thankful for a diverse group, who imbued me with confidence simply by their presence.

For example, there was an adorable couple, lawyers from Toronto, who kept the conversation lively and packed with them a sense of adventure. Truth be told, when I saw them traveling the world together, but still kicking tail in the courtroom, I swooned.

Once we arrived at the mountain's base, the sky was a little overcast. Yet, as we ascended the sun began to shine and my eyes were unprepared for the sight.

We climbed higher and the view (and maybe the cold or the altitude) took my breath away.

I had arrived. This was the most beautiful place I'd ever been. We were the only humans for miles.

Up top was the Rock Forest. The "trail" was perilously thin and allowed for no missteps. My fatigued knee was shaking so Rolando held my hand and patiently guided me. Despite his diminutive size, Rolando was the strong to my weak and the solid to my unsteady. For once the internet got it right. Rolando is a ten out of ten! I highly recommend him if you plan a visit to Rainbow Mountain.

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At the peak, I felt an otherworldly peace. I think that we sometimes need to climb a mountain to remind ourselves what we are capable of. Atop a mountain, you can honestly say that the sky is the limit.

Descending the mountain, my mind was on hyper-speed. Personally, I believe that reflecting on mountain-top experiences helps us learn how to live better in the valleys.

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So what did I take from the mountain? I found a couple quotes to help me summarize.

Oscar Wilde once wrote, "To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist."

Our nation's sixteenth president, Abraham Lincoln, purported that "in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years."

A million dreams live in my head, but the fact is that when I pass those dreams are also dead.

Most of my life has been spent playing it safe. I underestimate myself. I reason myself out of trying new things. My life felt like waiting room till the next milestone.

During my walk down Rainbow Mountain, my mental cadence marched along with my feet. A newfound resolve chanted, "Start living!"

I need to see the world before my eyes start failing; try athletic activities before my body starts aching; taste unfamiliar dishes before I lose my appetite.

Be hungry for life.

However, my favorite part of the day was when my Dad hugged me and said, "I am so happy to be here with you. Sharing this with you means the world to me."

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Dads love their daughters in inexplicable ways. When the daughter grows up, the Dad navigates another world. He loves the woman she has become, but when he blinks, he still sees his baby. Oftentimes, the transition seems to happen overnight.

Yet, Rainbow Mountain fostered a moment where those changes no longer mattered.

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We returned to Cusco and the rest of our family. Over dinner, my mom and siblings regaled us with stories of their day.

They ate lunch in a fancy Chifa restaurant. Before they could enjoy the Chinese-Peruvian, culinary fusion, Trey was hit with a debilitating wave of altitude sickness. Since Cusco sits at 8,000 feet, tourists plagued with altitude sickness is a commonality. Luckily, the restaurant had an oxygen tank on hand.

Much like watching your siblings get spankings or any America's Funniest Home Videos accidents, the video of Trey with an oxygen tank was hilarious.

Before the oxygen tank joined the fray, the other half of our family toured ruins whose name sounds like 'Sexy Woman.' Outside their taxis, my siblings were forced to pay little girls money for snapping photos with their baby llamas. Tatum's numerous selfies with llamas made the day complete.

We were impressed by my brother's hidden, negotiation skills with a Spanish-speaking taxi driver. For a set price, Trey convinced the driver to be their personal chauffeur all day.

On our trip's final day, we scheduled an excursion for the whole family. With Wilka Travel Group, we rode ATVs through the Sacred Valley.

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Luckily, Sunday was the sunniest day of our trip. As we motored across gravelly mountain roads, I marveled at Cuzco's countryside. My family agreed that there was no better way to travel!

Over the course of our tour we made two stops.

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First, we saw the salt mines of Moray. A thousand year old family business, their work still mesmerizes visitors. The beauty of the mines and the smell of salt mingling with the fresh mountain air was fearsome to behold.

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Then we toured the circular Inka ruins in Maras. Though once used for agricultural purposes, my family imagined Han Solo's Millennium Falcon landing in the ring's base.

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Riding the ATVs back to headquarters, we faced the unique challenge of passing a tour bus. The roadwas thin and the drop was steep, but we managed to maneuver our ATVs correctly.

I chose to ride at the back of the pack strategically. My siblings may cite my decision as evidence for a lack of assertiveness, but I argue that I am a closet genius.

Idling created more distance between me and the rest of the tour group. Once there was substantial space, I revved my engine. I cannot remember a time when I felt more carefree. As Maverick once said, "I have a need for speed" ('Top Gun').

Also, the ATV's helmet provides wonderful acoustics so the gap gave me room to sing and speed; leaving melodies and dust behind me.

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Back in Cuzco, we returned to the infamous Chifa restaurant where Trey was served fried rice and oxygen. Oddly enough, the second-story restaurant boasted views reminiscent of traditional Italian cities; reminding me that Peru will always be a fusion of cultural influences.

We showered off the dust and left our Hilton for the airport.

Finally crashing, I took a quick nap on Cuzco airport's benches. We arrived in Lima, re-checked our bags and proceeded towards international customs.

Mom picked a fight with the Customs Officer because of her perfume. Yes, her bottle had less than 3 ounces of liquid, but the label said it contained 8 ounces. At our last leg of the trip, Mama Cita is not one to be messed with. The Officer surreptitiously called in police back-up, who were ultimately (and thankfully) unnecessary.

In the words of Cita, "I am an American."

Then the Officer replied, "You are in Peru now."

You know how they say that you could cut the tension with a knife. Well, no knives were readily available and that was a blessed relief!

Our flight left Lima at midnight and arrived in Fort Lauderdale around six in the morning. We landed in Jacksonville close to noon. Obviously, the return trip was arduous, but our Peruvian experience was worth the red-eye.

Today, we hung pictures in the dining room. I took my family to Peru and the trip was dream come true.