Four amazing days, tired feet, injured knees, ups, downs, gringo killers, great food, funny guides, watching stars by night, early mornings, late night rum, all came down to this.
Standing above the grey clouds, cold and wet and wearing a brightly coloured yellow poncho bought from a cheap Cusco market, I look around at this magical and mysterious place, wondering how I ever made it here. This remarkable place could almost seem entirely secret, if it wasn’t for the daily herds of never-ending tourists of course. Trying to suppress my minor disappointment at the weather I look around at this wonderful place named Machu Picchu. I’ve actually made it.
Lets journey back a few days…
Arriving at Cusco, which sits at 3400m, I feel an altitude headache arise. A handful of loose coaca leaves in hot water prove to be a great cure and my headache soon vanishes. Must remember to leave the coaca leaves behind before flying home though! The cobbled streets of Cusco pack a big punch with quirky local markets and many adventure activities like rafting, mountain biking and horseback riding, all within easy reach. It’s easy to spend several days here. Inca ruins are found in the surrounding hills, with the Sacred Valley being nearby. Luckily, the town is the starting point for the majority of tourists headed on the Inca trail, so there are many hiking shops around.
Walking poles are a must as frustratingly I have patellar tendonitis on both knees. Determined not to let it stop me. I’m also buying a lot (and I mean a lot) of snacks. More is more in this case! I would hate to run out of my snickers and cereal bars half way up the mountain. Machu Picchu is set amongst the Andes mountain ranges and sits at 2430m. That’s a fair amount of fuel needed, so I pack my bag with the essentials to make sure it fits to the required weight limit. I try to pack light and for changeable weather. Just about manage it, feeling ready and eager to take on this challenge.
So the first day of the trail begins and I’m picked up at the ungodly hour of 4:30am and driven to Ollantaytambo, a local village. Surrounded by green rolling hills, I sit in a small hut with chickens, children and guinea pigs running around my feet whilst having a simple breakfast, prepared by a local Inca family. This is my first chance to meet the other trekkers I will be with for the next four days. I was pleased with my group of mid to late twenty something’s, as well as two guys from another group in their late fifties and much fitter than the rest. They would soon be ahead of us for the whole trek.
We are driven in a minivan to the start of the Inca Trail, nerves and excitement at the forefront, walking poles and knee bandages prepared. Once through there’s a tad sense of false security as a gentle path gradually leads us up. I’m sure it will get harder! The rain starts almost immediately and the colourful ponchos are straight on, rain not beating us just yet. I can’t believe how great the scenery is, stopping what seems like every five minutes to take a photo.
We walk past small Inca sites, endless green hills and mountains hiding behind one another, only giving us a glimpse of the challenge ahead. Day two, I know is the hardest and on everyone’s minds as we plough along, wondering what we’ve got ourselves in for. We arrive at camp to find it’s already set up by the porters.
These admirable men, some the age of most grandparents, carry 20kg whizzing past everyone to have camp set up and food cooked before we arrive. In the past they would carry up to 60kg until it was legally put a stop to. With little pay and no complaints I am in awe of these men. The food is delicious, with a combination of soup, meat, rice, pasta and a sweet pancake for dessert. After dinner everyone goes to bed but I stay up to watch the stars, so bright and so many.
I wrap up warm and sit in amazement at the dancing stars, hoping this peaceful and magical moment is one I won’t forget.
The Second Day…
Day two, wake at 6:30am smelling fresh mountain air, for a breakfast omelette to fuel the toughest day of the trek. This is the day considered most challenging and climbing a 1000ft in a day, I can see why. It’s pretty much uphill for 8 hours to reach Dead Woman’s Pass at 13,828ft (the highest point of the trek). Supposedly the rocks from below look like a woman lying on her back, the name doesn’t mean that you will be dead once at the top! (or at least I hope not).
At altitude everyday things such as breathing suddenly become increasingly difficult but I push on to be near the front, as mentally cannot be at the back. The air gets thinner. I’m frustrated as my mind and body want to push on but my knees hold me back. I power through this mental mind game and arrive as one of the first to Dead Woman’s Pass, much to my surprise.
Soaking in the views and accomplishment just achieved, we wait for the others, cheering them on as they reach the top. Through laughter and tears we have made it, now just need to head back down the other side. So yes I was at the back from this point onwards, as apparently knee injuries and steep down-hills do not mix. The views keep me going. The thought of food also keep me going. Finally I make it in time for dinner and relax with the group, playing card games and chatting about the day.
That night the porters give me a little warm rum before bed and I sleep like a baby.
Day 3 on the Inca Trail
So after covering my ever-increasingly greasy hair with a hat, I’m ready for one of the most scenic days. I certainly see why Machu Picchu is one of the ‘new’ seventh wonders of the world. Day three takes you through jungle and mountainous backdrops, the sun streaming through the trees and birds flying overhead.
We stop for lunch opposite a group of Inca ruins. The Americans have already eaten and are now off to face the gringo killers. That would be downhill steep steps for forty five minutes and which go on far too long for my comfort. I shuffle down them using my hands, like a baby learning to walk down the stairs. After surviving this, I find a birthday treat for me at camp. The porters have baked an entire cake half way up the mountain, making me feel extra special indeed.
Ok so the final day has arrived and after heavy rain throughout the night, it’s still ongoing and everyone is miserable. I try to be positive hoping the rain makes way to pretty sunshine. After two hours of walking, mostly under the trees and then passing through the compulsory checkpoint, a member of the group shouts “Look!”.
I raise my eyes through the slowly drifting clouds to see the extraordinary Inca ruins that make up this ancient city. There, in front of me, is the image that has been driving me since day one. The one thing I have kept in my head, willing me to continue through tired legs and hurried breaths. I am finally looking down at Machu Picchu.
The rain in no way hides the beauty of this place. These ruins are believed to have been built at the height of the Inca empire during the fifteenth century and were built entirely without mortar. They were later abandoned and I can only imagine how thriving this place once was. I’m particularly impressed with the intelligent system leading water from a spring and using gravity to feed it through to various parts of the city.
There are a lot of tourists here and I wish I were alone to take the setting in with all its wonderment. Clouds drift slowly through the mountains and surrounding the ruins, adding a prehistoric feel to this already mysterious place.
After a quick tour, exploring and taking photos we head through the huge number of day tourists, all smelling great as opposed to us and take a bus down to Aguas Calientes. This small town is busy with tourists strolling around, looking at gift shops and dining for lunch after their trip. Like most, I take this opportunity to visit the hot springs, a life saver after four days of walking and I feel the pain slowly fade away. Feeling much more relaxed we all fall asleep on the train back to Cusco.
A bath has never felt so good and I feel like a new woman. This journey has been tough, exhilarating and exhausting but one I will never forget. I’m glad I chose the classic trail, with it being great for diverse scenery yet still a nice four days, as opposed to some of the longer treks. Back at the hotel a surprising amount of energy has taken over my body and I decide to join the rest of the group at a small bar in the town square. The hours and hours of walking have apparently not quite defeated me just yet and I dance the night away, celebrating my small little victory.
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