Advertisement
The party
Luckily, the fashion police were off duty! We decided to go a different route to Macchu Picchu than most, which is a comfortable train journey from Cuzco, filled with loud Americans and picture-happy Japs. Nay, we decided to hire a 450 cc off-road beast and ride the 260km there. Of course, the massif 80´s party (in our awesome party hostel) we attended the night before we were due to leave threw a spanner in the works - as were dressed the part, having bought clothes from a 2nd hand store and looking like extras in a Cindi Lauper video, we had to party like we meant it. What this really meant is we could only leave a day later, owing to our enormous hangovers, which would have killed ordinary travellers.
Bedecked in off-road gear and a small workshop of tools, we set off early the next morning. The first 100kms passed along a tarred road through awesome valleys that cut between towering, snow-capped mountains. The road quickly gave way to gravel, however, as we ascended to the mountain pass at 4500m, which afforded amazing views over the valley into which we were to descend, with only the Lllamas and odd road-worker for company. The going slowed considerably,
The party
Luckily, the fashion police were to wasted to book us. on a stretch of road akin to Bolivian Death Road, with psychotic truck drivers appearing out of nowhere and leaving one with a mouthful off Peruvian dust.
The going became progressively worse, as we headed off the "main" road, onto a little dirt track that carved through the mountains. We passed through streams that cut across the road, past little villages perched on the hillside, dodging chickens and thick mud as we followed the contour of the raging white water below us. One thing that has become painfully apparent is that South Americans have absolutely no concept of time or distance. From 1pm in the afternoon, we were told that Santa Theresa, our destination, was only 2 hours away. Repetitively. Even some gringos on the back of a cattle truck concurred. When we finally arrived, as the last rays of sun fell over the valley at 6 pm, our concept of what 2 hours meant had changed considerably.
Exhausted, we nevertheless decided to continue to the hydro-electric plant, the last point of assisted passage before Macchu Picchu. Continuing along the incrediably bad road in sheer darkness, we cossed rickety bridges, aided by workers here and there, until we
The Bike ride
View along the way arrived at the plant. There, we had to bribe some bemused policemen to let us leave the bike outside their little station, alongside the railway tracks, after realising that riding next to the tracks was not a safe option!
The last two hours hiking along the tracks was both unbelievably tiring and amazing. Fireflies danced in the air, as we crossed narrow bridges over steep gorges, with a roaring river beside us and towering, jungle-covered peaks acting as sentinels to our silent passage. Utterly finished, and filthy, we arrived at Aguas Calinetes, at the foot of Macchu Picchu, 12 hours after leaving Cuzco. After falling like the dead into bed, we resusitated ourselves the following morning at 5 am for the object of all our efforts.
When you stand in Machu Picchu and look around you it's not difficult to feel the energy that its location possesses. If we feel awe-inspired by the presence of the mountains, the jungle and the gushing white water of the Vilcanota River below us, it doesn't seem too hard to comprehend that the Incas, who lived with the utmost respect for the beauty of their surroundings including the worship of the mountains,
The Bike ride
Takin a break at the pass rocks, water, rivers and the sun, moon and stars, felt that Machu Picchu was a very special and sacred place as well.
Evidence suggest that Machu Picchu, with its 200 or so buildings, had a permanent population of about 1000 people. At the time we arrived, there were only about 30, so we had free reign for the next five hours, before the gringo invasion of the arriving train. We explored and pondered, watching the sunrise hit the terraces and light up the citadel, magnifying it´s awesome glory. Climbing around the backside of Waynu Picchu, the peak overlooking the main complex, we explored the temple of the moon, a ceremonial cave-temple. We meditated in silence for a while, having the place completely to ourselves, before ascending to view the citadel from another angle. Awe-inspiring to say the least.
The rest of the day was spent in contemplation of this magnificent place and it´s incrediable builders, and resting before the tortuous journey back. Having twisted my ankle on the way down from the complex, the hike back along the tracks was not quite as much fun, but the scenery in daylight more than made up for it. Fetching our
The Bike ride
The road went from bad to worse... bike from our police compadres, we set off back home, with the ride fairly pleasant and uneventful, until we reached the mountain pass and were told that it was closed for maintenance. Until nightfall.
I have been cold in my life, but driving around hairpin bends on gravel roads in darkness, at 4,5kms high, I think I set a personal record. Shiv wasn´t sure at what temperature frostbite sets in, so I periodically stopped and tried feebly to restore warmth to my fingers. The next 3 hours were the coldest of our lives, and probably ranks up there with the most perilous, though we survived intact, two happy human popsicles enjoying the best warm shower of their lives.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.071s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 15; qc: 72; dbt: 0.0461s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb