Inca Stinkers

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Well, I’m sure everyone will be very pleased and excited to hear that we survived the dreaded Inca Trail, and it was actually not as tough as we had expected. It started on Friday when we were rudely awoken by our alarm clock at half past four, ready to be picked up and taken to the start of the trail. My cousin Sarah and her friends Lauren, Ruth and MJ were already on the bus and as we boarded we desperately tried to look at the rest of the 16 trekkers in the feint hope that there would be a big fatty or an old fogie that would be the slow one. Annoyingly, everyone looked relatively young and fit. We tried to cram in some last minute sleep on the way there but it was interrupted about 45 minutes in by the bus filling with smoke and coming to an abrupt halt at the roadside. Everyone piled out as the little porters ran about filling buckets from a stream and throwing them over the engine. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t solve the problem and we were left wondering if the trek would be over before it had even started. We didn’t have to worry too long though as another half empty bus pulled up behind and we jumped on, not sure if the fate of the bus was an omen for things to come.

The first stop was the small village of Olantaytambo, where we had some breakfast and bought supplies, including the essential walking sticks and rain ponchos. After another hour in the bus we arrived at km 82, and the start of the track. There were yet more local women desperately flogging stuff as we got off the bus and I purchased myself a fetching green bandana neck tie, which had the desired effect of making me look like a proud oversized scout. The trail is heavily regulated, and it was another half hour or so before we were actually allowed to begin as we had to wait in line to get our tickets and passports checked. Behind us was the huge queue of porters carrying our stuff, waiting to get their packs weighed. When we did get going it was all pretty tame for the majority of the first day, excluding a few small climbs, but served as a good warm-up for the days to come. On day one we passed cactus-filled heaths, walked by the gushing Rio Urubamba and towered over impressive Inca ruins. As we stumbled along with our day packs it was very humbling to see the masses of porters spring past us, their backs each loaded up with a different array of painfully heavy items including tents, gas canisters, chairs and our clothes. By the time we got to the lunch stop, the porters had already set up a dining room tent and kitchen tent and the cook had prepared a four course meal. They even gave us an embarrassing round of applause as we trickled in.

After a hearty meal, which started with an avocado and olive salad, we only had to walk another hour and a half until our first campsite at Wayllabamba. Again we were given a round of applause and a massive meal before we retired to the tents that they had set up in perfectly neat rows.

Day two started with a 5:45 am wake up call and a cup of coca tea, followed by a huge carb-filled breakfast. We were then introduced to our ‘family’ of porters, ranging between 22 and 53 years old, all coming from local villages. We had to each introduce ourselves as well with our names, ages, where we were from and our jobs and after that we all greeted each other personally. Giving away my profession was followed by an eerie silence and turned out to be a mistake, making me the butt of the assistant guide’s jokes for the next two days.

The meet and greet only served to delay the pain of the second day though, the one that we’d read was the most tough. From the start it was literally un uphill slog, breathlessly climbing steep slopes and big uneven Inca steps to altitude. Halfway up we stopped for a snack, then blasted up further to the highest pass, the so called ‘Dead Woman’s Pass’ at 4200m. Catherine had been particularly worried about it for a long time, but in the event she did pretty damn well, being the first girl out of ten from our group to get up there, the rest trailing in her terrifying wake. From the top we had more amazing views down the steep valley either side, falling far below and stretching out to the snow-capped mountains beyond. As we all know, what goes up must come down, and there followed an hour and a half of knee rattling stone steps until we reached the second campsite, where we were once again fed up like little Christmas turkeys.

Day three of the trek was the longest day, and we left our tents and the eager porters just before seven to straight away start another steep ascent to some more Inca ruins and excellent views. We were constantly told that it is not a race, but everyone knows to be last is to be a loser, and once again we were the first to the top of the second pass. At the top it is traditional or something to lay down some magical stones to the gods along with some sort of offering and make a wish. We laid our stones down, looking over the valley accompanied by some coca leaves and a generous portion of precious watermelon and wild cherry flavoured Nerds (yes, it is still the artificially-flavoured 90‘s here). If our wishes don’t come true now, then there is little hope left. More ups and downs, more Inca ruins and a cloud enshrined forest took us to a lunch of Alpaca, and after that we carried on through Inca tunnels and along the edge of sheer drops, bobbing up and down with the mountainside. The cloud had totally closed in and thunder and lightning brought with it rain and then hail. From the third and final pass the views were magnificent, apparently. Unfortunately we could only see the big fat white cloud we were stuck in.

The decent from there to the final campsite is known by the guides as ‘The Gringo Killer’, and I could see why, especially with the rain making grip that bit harder. It was a steep two hour downhill stretch but thanks to our OAP wooden walking sticks we avoided serious injury. We both slipped - Catherine fell over a couple of times, once almost taking her voice box out with the said OAP wooden walking stick. It was a big relief to get to the campsite, especially since we thought we were lost for the last half an hour. The camp site was stuck in the middle of nowhere, halfway up a steep mountain, yet it still managed to have a bar with plenty of bottles of the local brew. Sitting in our tent, opening out to possibly one of the best campsite views in the world, beer never tasted so good.

In the evening we all got together for a bit of a farcical thank you ceremony for the porters - basically a staged chance for us to give them their expected tips - where we stood on one side of the tent and they stood on the other and we all loved each other with the aid of a pot full of Peruvian Soles.

We’d got pretty used to early starts, and the fourth and final day started with us waking at 3:40. There is a mountain right next to Machu Picchu called Wayna Picchu, which only 400 people per day can climb, so you have to get there early to get a ticket. At 4:15 we were all waiting at the campsite exit so we could be the first to get to Machu Picchu. By the time the gates opened at 5:30, a huge queue of happy campers had formed at the gate but we were the first to be released, and we set a relentless pace in the pitch black along the final part of the Inca trail, our minds only set on one thing. There was no let up, and it was like we were illegally sneaking over a border under the cover of darkness. The final 20 minutes to the sun gate involved a steep climb, but everyone got their heads down and scrambled over the pain barrier. It was light by the time we got to the top and had our first view of the amazing Machu Picchu. I started to get some pretty photographs whilst Catherine went and had an asthma attack, such was the beasting we had endured. Rude of her really, as I had to turn the camera off and be all caring and stuff.

Catherine had just about got her breath back by the time we had to pick up the pace again and get ourselves down to the ticket booth. Again, it was a full-on speed hike and when actually we got within Machu Picchu’s walls we started to run through one of the new seven wonders of the world, not looking around us but intent on only one thing. We ran up old stone staircases and between ruins, with the other day tripper tourists who’d had the luxury of a shower and a clean set of clothes looking at our rabble in disgust. We got to Wayna Picchu at around 7am and it was a real anticlimax to learn that all the tickets had gone. With the adrenaline drained and the tiredness kicking in, we instead had a tour of Machu Picchu from our guide Juan, which was really interesting and shedded more light on how the Incas would have lived and how the old city worked. Half way through the tour an old American bloke appeared on the periphery and started to listen in and follow our group around. How rude! We could not shake him off, even when the whole group hid around the corner to try and lose him. I think he got the message in the end when all of us gave him our cameras and made him take 16 group photos of us.

By 11am it felt like late afternoon and we took the bus down the winding mountainside to the small town of Aguas Calientes, basically just a service town for Machu Picchu. After lunch and another staged chance to give more tips to porters and the guides, we rested our weary limbs in the thermal baths there. Despite an inappropriate amount of people weirdly rubbing each other’s backs or massaging each other’s scalps it was very relaxing and therapeutic, especially when the rain and thunder arrived.

The journey back to Cusco was firstly by train and then bus. For some reason they decided not to turn any of the lights on in the train, despite it being pitch black outside. Probably a good thing really since most people on there hadn’t showered for four days.

Back in Cusco we did what the Incas would have undoubtedly done when they returned to the city after a mission to Machu Picchu - had a big fat McDonald’s.

We have now arrived in Arequipa to start the final week of the trip. And I have just been robbed and had my camera stolen! That story will have to wait, I'm not in the mood (wrote the rest of this rubbish before).


Stay Safe

Nic

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Photos

The bloke who joined our tour
The one at the back