Back to the Sacred Valley

A father and son return to Peru to rediscover purpose, service, and self.

Share this article

Anthony Alegrete shares a full circle moment to his kids from Peru’s mountains in 2017.

The First Journey

In 2017, I boarded a plane to Peru without realizing that the trip would leave fingerprints on my life that I’d never wash off. It was called Warrior Retreats, created by my brother and longtime friend, Branden Collinsworth. It was only the second time he had hosted it. At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what I was signing up for. I knew it was about leadership and self-mastery, but it turned out to be something much deeper.

I was chasing growth but didn’t understand how much breaking down it would take to get there. I thought I was going on a trip, but I was stepping into a mirror. Peru didn’t just show me the land. It showed me myself. Every conversation, every quiet moment, every new face held a lesson I didn’t know I needed.

From the moment my feet hit the soil of Cusco, something inside me started to shift. I remember the altitude hitting me like a wall that first night. The air was so thin it felt like I was learning to breathe for the first time. For real, for real. When you’re that high up, your lungs go into overdrive.

That first breath was a shock to my system. It humbled me fast. The kind of humility that makes you slow down and pay attention. I remember standing outside that first night looking up at the stars, realizing how small I really was. You think you’re strong until nature reminds you who’s in charge. Cusco did that from day one.

Then came the hikes.

Anthony Alegrete climbing the Cusco stairs to reach Christ the Redeemer in Peru.

Cusco sits more than 12,000 feet above sea level. I don’t think we have many places in America that high, and if we do, it’s only at the very top. Denver might be the Mile-High City, but nothing I had ever experienced compared to Cusco. It was vibrant and welcoming. It felt like a place that was light-years away yet somehow right around the corner.

The city had cobblestone streets that wound like veins through its hills. There was a mix of third-world grit and first-world charm, all living side by side. One thing that stood out was how the higher you went into the hills, the poorer it got. In America, the hills usually mean wealth. In Cusco, it was the opposite. The higher you climbed, the more struggle you saw. It made sense though. Travel there isn’t easy. It’s stairs on stairs on stairs.

That contrast hit me. Kids playing with beat-up soccer balls in the narrow alleys while tourists stopped for pictures. Small gift shops lined the path, selling handmade bracelets, scarves, and Peruvian trinkets. You’d see families sitting outside their homes, cooking, laughing, just living life right there on the hillside. It made me think about how often we take comfort for granted. These people had less but carried more pride and peace than most. Cusco reminded me that real wealth isn’t what you have, it’s how you live.

That trip was full of adventure.

Christ Redeemer Status, Cusco, Peru

One morning, we hiked through the favelas to reach Christ the Redeemer. Most people picture the statue in Rio de Janeiro, but Cusco has its own version watching over the city. The climb is nothing but stairs. Endless, winding, steep. Some ran. Some crawled. But everyone made it to the top.

The walk took us through narrow streets lined with small homes and local shops. You could hear dogs barking, music playing from windows, and people starting their day. The air felt different up there, thinner but alive. Every turn gave a new view of the city below, like it was slowly unfolding the higher we climbed.

By the time we reached the top, I was out of breath but smiling. The view made it worth every step. It was deep, it was spiritual, but most of all it felt good that I just accomplished a very difficult stair run. I’ll never forget ‘Black Bean Rob’. He was one of the facilitators and he was in excellent shape. Pushing and motivating all of us to keep moving and not to give up. Ask me how he got his nick name one day and I’ll tell ya.

Warrior Retreats 2 Family at Machu picchu, 2017

Machu Picchu wasn’t just a postcard moment. It was a test. Every step made you think about how much work went into building something that strong, that high up, that long ago. You could feel the history in the stones, the precision, the patience. The air was thin when we started, but as we got closer, the weather changed fast.

Peru has so many climates, and since Machu Picchu sits at the edge of the jungle, it gets hot and humid quickly. The sweat, the heat, the effort, it all blended together into something raw and real. If you’ve been there, you get it.

When we reached the top, the view stopped everyone in their tracks. Clouds moved slowly across the valley, and the light hit the ruins just right. Nobody had to say anything. We all just stood there, taking it in. It felt honest, quiet, and bigger than words.

I miss my Warrior tribe. We sure had a great time togehter hiking those mountains.

Anthony Alegrete climbing Rainbow Mountain, Peru, 2017

Then came Rainbow Mountain, standing proud at over 16,000 feet above sea level. I had never hiked a mountain that big in my life. It takes real stamina and endurance just to keep moving. At one point, I got to ride a horse for a small stretch, which gave me a short break to catch my breath and take it all in. The air up there feels thin and sharp, and every step reminds you how alive you are.

It was a magical experience. What’s funny is that when you get that tired, everything starts to feel funny too. Delusion kicks in. You’re exhausted, lightheaded, and laughing at things that make no sense. I remember joking with my brothers from Warrior Retreats as we pushed up that last stretch, helping each other get through it.

Anthony Alegrete at the top of Rainbow Mountain, 2017

By the time I reached the summit, my lungs were begging for air and my legs were shaking from the climb. But when you look out and see streaks of red, gold, green, and violet carved into the mountain, it feels like you’re staring at a painting that God left behind. That mountain doesn’t care how strong you are. It only respects presence and perseverance.

When we got to the top, we danced, we laughed, we took in the views, and then we became still. Hiking to 16,500 feet is no joke and keep in mind it was in 40 degree weather. There’s a deep sense of pride that comes with climbing.a mountain that large. I remember eating with locals in a nearby village afterward. They cooked simple meals with care, and it was humbling to share that table with them.

Until I started writing this article, I didn’t realize I had recorded a video that day on Rainbow Mountain, talking to my kids and telling them that one day I’d bring them here. Seeing that clip again put a huge smile on my face. Manifestation is real. Eight years later, it’s happening. I’m coming back, and this time I’m bringing Dominic.

Riding ATVs in the Sacred Valley of Peru with Warrior Retreats 2 Family, 2017

When we weren’t hiking, we were learning the heartbeat of Peru. We rode ATVs for hours through the highlands, weaving through small villages where kids ran to the roads just to wave and smile as we passed. The air smelled like earth and smoke from cooking fires, and the views stretched for miles. It wasn’t just sightseeing. It felt like being invited into the daily rhythm of a country that moves at its own pace.

We took cooking classes with local chefs who turned simple ingredients into dishes that felt like art. They cooked with soul, not recipes. Have you ever eaten alpaca? I have. It’s incredible. It tastes like red meat but softer, richer, and clean. I’ll never forget that meal. We also made ceviche, and it was the freshest I’ve ever had. If you know me, you know I don’t usually eat ceviche, but in Peru, that changed. Something about the energy there makes you open up to new things. The people, the food, the land, it all connects in a way that pulls you in.

We explored the salt mines of Maras, where families have worked for generations harvesting salt that sparkles like glass under the sun. Standing there, surrounded by hundreds of salt pools carved into the mountainside, you realize how much patience and pride it takes to keep a tradition like that alive.

And then came the adrenaline. We ziplined over deep valleys and rock climbed cliffs that tested both focus and faith. The Sacred Valley isn’t just beautiful. It feels alive. There’s something about that place that grounds you while lifting your spirit at the same time. If you ever get the chance to go, do it. Pictures don’t come close to what it really feels like to be there.

This is Peru.

Anthony Alegrete San Juan De Dios Hospital in Cusco, Peru, 2017

The Work That Matters Most

Amid all that beauty, Peru revealed a harder truth. We visited hospitals that doubled as orphanages. In many parts of the country, when a child is born with a severe disability or long-term illness, families who can’t afford care sometimes leave them at the hospital and never come back. The staff does what they can, but the halls are filled with children who have no one.

It isn’t just babies either. Toddlers and teenagers get dropped off too, often when caring for them becomes too difficult. It’s heartbreaking. You feel for the children, but you also feel deeply for the nurses and doctors who take them in and love them like their own. They’re doing God’s work.

We brought toys, music, and laughter. It wasn’t much in the big picture, but it mattered. I remember holding a little boy’s hand as he stared at me like I was the first visitor he’d seen in months. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His eyes said everything. I danced with a young girl who I knew would probably never leave that hospital, but her smile made it all worth it.

Anthony Alegrete with young abandoned handicap boy at Cusco, Peru hospital

That moment broke me open and changed what I believed service could look like.

That was the heart of Warrior Retreats. It wasn’t about how far we could climb or how strong we looked. It was about how open we could be.

Branden always says, “In the end, it won’t matter how much money you have in your bank account, or how many followers you have, or how many accolades you’ve collected. What will matter is the impact you’ve had on others.”

That’s what Warrior Retreats is about: impact.
Impact on yourself and, more importantly, impact on others.

Father and son in Baltimore, MD at the BEYA Conference, Feb 2025

The Return

Now, eight years later, I’m going back. But this time, I’m not going alone. I’m going with my son, Dominic.

That sentence still hits me every time I say it. I’m going back with my son.

I’ve got a strong bond with all my kids, but there’s always room to grow. I’ve been that drill-sergeant type of father at times. I want the best for them. I push. I demand. And sometimes, in trying to shape them, I forget to just be with them. This trip gives me that chance.

And the truth is, if it weren’t for Dominic, this wouldn’t even be happening. He’s the one making it possible. He’s funding both of us to go. Watching your child take that kind of initiative is something special. It’s a proud moment, but also humbling. It’s a reminder that the seeds you plant in your children really can grow into something powerful.

Traveling with him back to Peru feels like a spiritual reunion, not just with the land, but with who I was when I first came here and who I’ve become since. Back then, Dominic was thirteen. Now he’s twenty-one. I’ve grown a lot since then, but I still have room to evolve. This trip is about peeling back layers, rediscovering myself, and diving deeper into who I am and who I want to be.

It’s why Warrior Retreats is special and why I’m fundraising for the cause.

Anthony Alegrete and Branden Collinsworth at the top of Rainbow Mountain, Peru, 2017

The Brotherhood

Branden and I go way back. We built two ventures together in Las Vegas, NV: Real Results, a gym that became a community hub for transformation, and the Jump for Joy Foundation, a nonprofit fighting childhood obesity. Together, we helped thousands of kids live happier and healthier lives.

Service isn’t new to either of us. It’s been a cornerstone of our lives for years. But Warrior Retreats is something different. It’s about giving back to Mother Earth and to people who truly need help.

Branden’s evolution has been incredible. He’s now a Nike master athlete, a TEDx speaker, and a world traveler who embodies movement, mindfulness, and mastery. I call him a Jedi because that’s exactly what he is: a disciplined warrior who channels energy with precision and grace. He moves through life with calm intensity. He’s still Obi-Wan Kenobi and I’m Yoda, but who’s judging? LOL…I can’t wait to banter with my brother again.

He’s been in Dominic’s life since my son was four. When we ran Jump for Joy, Branden mentored him and showed him what leadership and integrity looked like. Now, to see Dominic grown and joining us on this mission feels like a full-circle blessing.

Branden also deeply respects the man Dominic has become. He values discipline and sees that same drive in him. As a father, I’m grateful. It takes a village to raise good kids, and when your village includes men who walk with integrity, it makes all the difference. There’s only so much a dad can do, and I’m thankful that Branden and Dominic have their own bond built on mutual respect.

It’s emotional too, because Branden’s father, Dr. Chocolate, passed away not long ago. He was the only other father to attend Warrior Retreats with his son. Together they created it. Dominic and I will now be the second father-son duo to attend, this time the first as participants. Carrying that legacy forward means everything. I knew his dad. He was kind, funny, tough, and full of heart. He didn’t sugarcoat anything. He’d tell it like it was and would kick your ass if you came incorrect. The man had been working as an infectious disease doctor in the heart of Peru for years. He conducted child amputations often, he watched people die in front of him, and he saved countless lives. A man like that is different. And if you knew Lane, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Rest easy Lane Rolling.

This trip feels like a continuation of his spirit.

WARRIOR RETREATS: Our Annual Charity Giveback in Peru.

The Mission Today

Warrior Retreats has grown into something much larger than a retreat. It’s a movement for lasting impact across Peru.

In the Amazon Jungle, we’re building a Warrior Conservatory Project that protects biodiversity and supports Indigenous communities through sustainable development. We’re restoring an eco-lodge that provides jobs and income for local families. And through the Dr. Chocolate Day Healthcare Initiative, we’re bringing doctors, medicine, and care to villages that rarely have access.

In Cusco, we support hospitals like San Juan de Dios, caring for terminally ill and abandoned children. We bring holiday celebrations, toys, and love to kids who’ve never had that experience.

In the Sacred Valley, we’re planting trees, building schools, and creating safe spaces for children to learn and play. The Garden of Wichell School project gives young students a joyful environment to grow and thrive, a small piece of hope that could shape their future.

These aren’t short-term charity efforts. They’re commitments. Every project builds roots. Every act of service plants something that will outlive us.

We are truly doing God’s work. It’s a blessing to give back like this, and I have a humble request. If you feel called to support, please donate what you can. Every little bit helps. Click here to learn more about the Help Warrior Retreats Create Sustainable Change in Peru initiative.

The Inner Work

Beyond the physical work, Warrior Retreats has a spiritual side. Through optional plant medicine ceremonies, participants face themselves. It’s not recreational. It’s reflection. It strips away ego, pain, and the old stories that hold you back. You walk in one person and come out lighter, clearer, and more honest with yourself.

For me, it’s a chance to unlearn, to listen deeper, and to come home renewed. Sitting in ceremony deep in the Amazon with shamans who have carried this practice for generations is powerful. Their calm and their knowledge keep you grounded.

Now I get to experience it again, this time with my son. Imagine sharing ayahuasca with your child, deep in the jungle, both of you working on your inner selves together. I’m grateful for that. It’s not about getting high or chasing some wild vision. It’s about letting go of what you don’t need anymore and walking out of it a little more whole.

Anthony Alegrete reflecting looking over the sacred valley, peru 2017

Closing the Circle

When I think back to the 2017 version of myself, I see a man hungry for direction. I was two years out of prison and trying to rebuild my life from the ground up. I didn’t have it all figured out, but I was determined to keep moving forward. Now, I’m stepping back onto Peruvian soil wiser, calmer, and more grateful than ever to experience it again with my son. I still have a lot to learn.

I’ve been through highs and lows, wins and losses, and I’ve lost my mother and grandmother along the way. I carry a lot of weight and responsibility, but this time I want to channel it into real healing and growth.

Returning to Peru feels like hitting reset. It’s time to let go of what no longer serves me and make space for what’s next. Warrior Retreats isn’t a vacation it’s a right of passage. It’s a transformation. It’s where service, culture, and soul come together.

As I pack for the Sacred Valley again, I think about those children’s smiles, those mountain paths, and the people who welcomed us with open hearts. And this time, I get to do it all again with my son beside me.

Some experiences stay with you forever. This is one of them. And this time, it’s not just my journey.