Andes Mountains

I am a long, bumpy spine of stone stretching down the side of an entire continent. My tallest peaks wear a permanent blanket of white snow, so high they seem to touch the clouds, while my deep valleys are painted with the lushest greens you can imagine. I hold everything from dry deserts to misty forests and giant, frozen rivers of ice called glaciers. If you stand on one of my high slopes, you can feel the chilly wind whistle past your ears and watch giant birds called condors soar above on currents of air, their wings spanning wider than a grown-up is tall. They are the kings of my skies. I have watched over this land for millions of years. I am the Andes Mountains, the longest mountain range in the whole world.

My birth was not a quiet one. I was born from a super slow, but super strong, pushing match between two giant pieces of the Earth’s crust, which scientists call tectonic plates. For millions and millions of years, the Nazca plate, deep under the ocean, pushed and slid underneath the South American plate. This incredible pressure had nowhere to go but up. It caused the land to wrinkle, fold, and rise higher and higher, creating my towering peaks and deep valleys. This process began a very, very long time ago, around 65 million years ago. This is why I have so many volcanoes. They are like my fiery heart, occasionally rumbling and steaming to remind everyone of the immense power that is still moving deep beneath the ground, the very same power that created me.

For thousands of years, people have learned to call me home, adapting to my thin air and steep slopes. The most famous of my children were the incredible Inca people, who built a mighty empire along my spine in the 15th century. They were clever and strong, and I watched with pride as they worked with me, not against me. High on my shoulders, they built magnificent stone cities like Machu Picchu, which still cling to my cliffs today. They carved staircases of farmland, called terraces, right into my sides so they could grow potatoes and corn. To connect their vast world, they laid down thousands of miles of stone roads and bravely strung swinging rope bridges across my deep canyons. They lived so high up to be closer to their gods in the sky and to find safety from enemies in my protective heights.

I am not just a home for people; I am a world of wonders, teeming with life. Fluffy llamas and alpacas with their soft wool graze peacefully on my grassy slopes. Shy, spectacled bears, the only bears in South America, wander through my cloudy forests looking for berries. And high above it all, the mighty condors glide on my winds, watching over everything below. But my treasures are not just living things. Deep inside my stone body, precious metals like shiny copper and glimmering silver are hidden. For centuries, people have traveled from all over the world, digging into my sides to find these riches. I provide a special home for countless plants and animals that cannot be found anywhere else on Earth.

My story is far from over. Today, millions of people still live in the bustling cities and quiet villages nestled in my valleys and on my plateaus. The snow and ice on my peaks melt each spring, providing fresh water for them to drink and to grow their food. I am a playground for adventurers who come to hike my ancient trails and climb my challenging peaks. I am also a place of peace for those who simply want to sit and gaze at my beauty. I am a keeper of ancient stories written in stone and a home for new ones being made every day. I connect countries and cultures, and I will always be here, watching over South America, inviting everyone to climb my slopes and listen to my story in the wind.