Machu Picchu and the Inca Trail

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El Camino Inca (the Inca Trail)

The Inca Trail had been on our respective bucket lists forever. And it completely lived up to our expectations. The climb was hard, but the rewards magnificent and experience unforgettable. What follows is a more complete commentary than for other places we have visited. We hope you enjoy the story.

Inca Trail day 1

As planned we were on the Peru Treks minibus by 0540 and we were the first. We then wound our way through the streets of Cusco picking up fellow trekkers, the guides and some of the porters. It was quite cold and everyone’s gear was piled into the bus. Around Cusco clearly many others were going through the same process. Some buses more luxurious, many trekkers going further down market. At various key spots, the cook and the porters hopped out of the bus to purchase trusted supplies for the trip. Our principle guide William, was a stocky, amiable Peruvian. The second guide, Jimmy was more laconic. We climbed out of Cusco and onto high plains. We could see the formidable Andes rising ahead of us. There was lots of fast-moving traffic on the highway. Even more porters were picked up from villages along the way. Before we got to climb into the mountains the road dropped precipitously into Ollantaytambo. We drove through town and started to follow the famous railway line up to Aguas Calientes, and Machu Picchu. We stopped for breakfast at a little restaurant. Everyone on the trip was rugged up against the cold. We were unsure whether coca leaves would help against the cold but were willing to try anything. The porters, guides and guests played a throwing game with the object of landing small bronze disks into the mouth of a bronze toad. Bill demonstrated great skill. Most people bought wooden walking sticks here and stocked up on water. We followed the Urubamba River (or is that the Vilcanota River) up into the valley. The roads narrowed to a point where minibuses had trouble passing. The river was fast-flowing with good-sized rapids - note for some other time. The people along it were clearly carrying on with farming despite all the hordes of tourists that must get bused past them. We were headed for km 82 at Piscacucho. The Inca Trail starts some way back but there is not sufficient time in a three or four day trek to cover that ground on foot. We got to a point where the road simply stopped and many minibuses were disgorging passengers. It was crowded with trekkers and all the associated support people plus touts. These ladies had obviously researched the real and perceived needs of trekkers because they had a completely different array of merchandise to push. We stripped down a little because the day had warmed considerably with bright sunshine and less wind, and we were facing the reality of a steep walk. The group gathered for the first time, crossed the railway line and headed to the check-in station. The Inca Camino sign was here and our rhythm was broken already with two dozen group and subgroup photos on fifteen different cameras. Between us and the river, a hundred porters from various trekking companies were gathered and their loads were being checked. Good to see some controls on exploitation of these hardworking fellas. We filed down to the check-in and had our credentials checked and passports stamped. Exciting times.

The group consisted of guides William and Jimmy, Catherine and I, Bill and Wendell, Phil and Mel, Kiwi Kate, English Kate, Amy and Jo, Americans Sue and Steve, and Aussies Peter and Su Fai. Fourteen people and we were supported by in the order of 15 porters and the cook, Umberto. We set off across the bridge and up the first hill. There were dozens of walkers around us, several trekking independently. Five hundred people per day are authorised, which includes trekkers, guides and porters. There were some locals on the trail as well – believe it or not. After the first little climb, the path remained flat and wide. The environment was dry and relatively barren other than in the immediate surrounds of the river. Trains made their way up and down the valley, beside the river, as we walked. About an hour in William gave us a chance to take a few more layers of clothing off and then introduce ourselves. Not surprisingly we four were amongst the oldest, but who was counting. Catherine let slip that the next day was my birthday. Whose to know it wasn’t my 23^rd. William told us about the landscape, the fauna and some of the history as we walked. Second guide Jimmy, worked as back marker for the group. The first Inca ruins were across the river valley but clearly visible from the trail. This was Willcarakay. While pretty dilapidated you could still make out the aqueducts feeding the town, the grain storage facilities and perhaps 20 dwellings. The trail climbed a little more before dropping to cross the Kusichaca Stream. The mountains around us dominated the horizon including Veronica (Mt; at 5860m). The first serious climbs started before lunch. One of our members, Jo, started to fall behind early. She had been unwell for the last few days, and this stress was just too much. At the first little village (Miskay) the guides organised a donkey so that she could be transported to the night campsite without too much bother. The second serious climb took us to a vantage point for looking over the major ruins at Llactapata. These were sprawling ruins which followed the contours of the mountain on the other side of the Kusichaca Stream. Aqueducts ran from a major moraine upstream and down to the village. There were perhaps 100 buildings there in various states of repair. As in the previous Inca ruin there were round buildings which were grain stores, and square cottages that would originally had thatched roofs. There were baths and fountains in these villages: the Incas were obviously quite sophisticated. On the darker side, caves that pocked-marked the hillside above the village were makeshift graves for all the workers who lost their lives during the building of Inca cities like Llactapata and Machu Picchu. Their bodies were not given the ritual mummification rites afforded to people of higher community standing. We climbed steadily for another few kms past fresh flowing streams and light forests. Lunch was at Tarachayoo. The porters had run ahead, set a simple camp and then created a wonderous lunch. Plenty of protein, carbs and don’t forget salt, but also some flair in terms of presentation and flavours. Quite something given the available resources. We put our boots up for 15 mins for the siesta time. Then continued up the mountain following the stream.

We finally arrived at the first campsite (Wayllabamba) and it was obvious everyone was ready for the break. The camping area itself was a sloping plain hemmed in by two streams and steep mountainsides. There must have been ten different camping spots within the whole complex, but they were well separated. Our camp had been set out in a line of sleeping, cooking and eating tents. All very efficient – thanks to the porters. Water cascaded out of flumes and down brooks all around us. We shared a toilet block with a large “GAP Adventures” group. The “starting block” style toilets were pretty disgusting with dirty floors, and rank odours, and unexpected sights. Still these are better than the chaos that would have ensued in their absence. There were beers available (thank you porters) and we all gathered around them. The group socialised well, and high altitude meant the alcohol went to work fast. With the sun setting behind the mountains, the temperature dropped fast as frigid air dropped out of the mountains onto us. This was not to be our highest night (at 3100m) but one could still notice the lack of oxygen. The sky was perfectly clear and the Southern Cross and the Milky Way were shining brightly. William warned us about the “naughty donkeys” at this campsite who have been known to steal boots and walking poles from around hiker tents. Dinner was even better than lunch! Nonetheless the after-dinner conversation was brief and to the point as everyone made a bee-line to their beds. By 2030 most people were headed that way. The sleeping bags provided by Peru Treks, were definitely up to the task of keeping us warm (enough) when the temperature dropped well below zero. Still we wore two light layers inside the bag, and knew it was cold outside. Even though the camping area actually had a very high human population density, rushing water was all we heard during the night.

Throughout the trip, and especicially on the trek, Bill was particularly interested (some might say obsessed) in picking up a few words of Aymara and Quechua, the two major indigenous languages in the region. With little effort he correctly deduced that if "Huayna" means "new" in Quechua then "Macchu" probably means "old." Then he dutifully went to confirm the meaning of "Picchu" with William the Quechua guide. However, when he casually asked, "William, what does Pee-choo mean in Quechua?" William looked at him a bit quizzically, and after a few seconds' delay sheepishly replied "penis."

At that point Bill's pupils dilated markedly and perhaps he even twitched. While he burbled, "Really? Picchu means penis? Really??" a multiplicity of thoughts flooded into his brain--initially crude if not arrested adolescently: "Macchu Picchu means 'old penis' and only the Peruvians, Ecuadorians and Bolivians know that while unsuspecting Americans and Aussies and Europeans and Asians happily make pilgrimages there, literally climbing all over it!!" And more pseudo-intellectually: "Could this be like the "lingam" in Hindu culture and art?" And finally solipstically: "am I a linguistic Christopher Colombus, about to use the internet to break the news to the non-Quechua-speaking world?"

But Bill's excited reverie was disturbed when William suddenly said with a chuckle, "Oh I understand--actually Picchu in Quechua is pronounced 'Peek-choo' not 'Pee-choo' and means 'mountain.'" Stunned but perhaps secretly relieved, Bill quickly regained his balance by reverting to more prosaic thoughts ("that means Macchu must be pronounced 'Mock-choo'"). And Columbus quietly wept.

Next morning (Inca Trail Day 2, Greg’s birthday) Jimmy the porter openned the flaps of our tent by 0600 offering tea, coffee or coca leaves. Very nice of him, as that definitely helped warm the body before breakfast. The air was well below zero, but the temperature rose rapidly as the low latitude sun rose. Clear skies for another day. This was heralded as the most challenging day so a hearty breakfast and more coca tea. We climbed up the left bank of a mountain stream initially. We each established our own natural pace and tried to stick with it. Bill was certainly the fastest, and me (Greg) the slowest, imagining my rhythm to be like the little diesel buses we saw in Bolivia. Trekkers from the other groups passed us repeatedly, as we got into patterns of rests and sprints. An hour up the mountain we stopped to remove some layers of clothing. The weather was warm so we stripped down to tropical clothes. The biting bugs made their presence felt. Jo was again struggling, but Bill was powering ahead, having found his high mountain stamina. We stopped briefly at about 0730 and gathered our breath. William introduced us to one of the porters who held the record for the faster transit to Machu Picchu. The guy had nondescript physique but obviously looks can be deceptive – he had made the four day trek for us in 3.75 hours! We continued up the long climb. The group stayed relatively static in terms of the order. By 1030 we had climbed into the cloud forest and out the top side. We stopped for a second breakfast at the spot called Llulluchapampa, which had a commanding view down the valley as well as up the valley to the pass (Abra de warmi wanusca; Dead Woman’s Pass) that we had to climb to. Definitely starting to curse steps: big ones; short ones; Inca-built; or otherwise. Somewhat embarrassingly the porters clapped us as we came into the temporary camp. They were the ones who had achieved a physical feat! Around a formally set table under the open sky, we took more high energy foods and coca products. Our friend Jo had valiantly tried to climb this section, but her health was just not up to the stress. She headed back down from this point which was 3850 m above sea level. We could see trekkers who had set out earlier today on the summit of the pass. It looked deceptively close.

We again found our various speeds and wound our way up this long, steep, oxygen-depleted climb. Domesticated llamas grazed the high alpine shrubs in the meadows around the trail. For Catherine and I, we found extra stamina by thinking about her father, Graham Leach, and the various physical achievements he had completed in his life, recently blighted by a stroke. Still while we struggled, the porters struggled more, and still mounted the pass. By the last 50m of the climb, I could see and hear my fellow trekkers urging me up the last bit. By the time I (Greg) got there my heart was pounding hard in the ears, and my breath was almost spent. My leg muscles were screaming with lactate. Actually I was also having trouble focussing my eyes, so I was glad the climb was over. I could do little else but sit. Friends provided Gatorade which really pulled me up. Most of the group was already at the pass, so we waited for the back markers and then organised group photos. It was about 1300. Several iterations with several cameras. It was quite windy and cold, and so no one was interested in staying for long. Nonetheless the sense of achievement filtered through.

The downhill run was spectacular though steep. We switched quickly to momentum-reduction mode using walking sticks as brakes. The same zig-zag paths we used to get up the mountain became useful for the downward trek. The porters now found their pace and literally ran down the mountain with bent knees and a spring in their steps. It was amazing how quickly and assuredly they placed their feet. One incorrect foot placement and they would be in big trouble, driven down the mountain face-first by the weight of their backpacks. The first hour down was pretty intense before flattening out a bit – still downward but less crazy. Catherine and I stayed together for this section. William our guide, was slow. Years of up and down had taken its toll on his knees. A small group of Australians, part of the parallel Peru Treks group, was overlapping with us as we descended. Plenty of time and now some breath, to talk. The landscape became more lush and wooded as we walked. There were very few birds, but spectacular views. Close to the second overnight camp, Pacaymayo, William led us onto a short cut. This was narrow and gravelled, wound through some close, low scrub, and beside the sandy banks of a fast-running mountain stream. We got very close to a young deer – perhaps a white-tailed doe. It was completely unperturbed. Given the level of protection this area has enjoyed for decades, it is no wonder.

The campsite was another 100 metres down but still our highest (3500m). As for the previous night, the campsite was distributed across perhaps ten different levels, all arranged around this mountain stream. The porters chose our spot on a first-come-first-served basis. It was now about 3pm and lunch was served almost immediately. A hearty lunch of two courses with plenty of vegies. Most people drifted away from the table quite quickly and headed for their well-earned siesta. We four disappeared for at least half an hour. We were exhausted to different degrees. The sun set early in this deep valley, but the campsite continued to take exhausted trekkers into the evening. William told us about a Russian group he had led, that took 12 hours to do that leg of the trek! All in their own time really. William asked us all to be available by 1730 for a gathering, and I in particular, had to be available for dinner. Clearly something was going on. We were a motley crew that emerged from the tents and gathered on small camping stools. William gathered all the porters and cooks to meet and address us all. He asked each of them to introduce themselves: name; age; and role in the support team. Umberto the cook was the first and his declaration of marital status (single) became something of a joke amongst the crew and the trekkers given that the two Katies were single – and hence assumed to be available. As William introduced each of them a couple of things became clear. Firstly a number of them had no English, and very limited Spanish. Quechua was their language. Secondly there was a strong and comfortable camaraderie amongst them and plenty of cheek was being exchanged. The youngest porter (19) was the butt of jokes about virginity or the continuation of it. Some people obviously continue to work until into their 60’s. This is pretty impressive given the physical challenge of those mountains, let alone the 25kg packs. Finally the realisation that lots of energy and expertise is required to support our access to this very special place.

Each of the trekkers again introduced themselves and told their story. This time I was happy to declare I had turned 54 today. This brought rapturous applause. Catherine told them our daughter had been with the same company six months earlier which was also appreciated. Bill was able to bring so much more to the conversation with fluent Spanish, as well as the Quechua he had picked up. William also taught us some short phases to share with the porters as they repeatedly passed us on the trail each day – unfortunately it is now lost from my memory. Dinner was a little later, which gave us more time to explore. Some of our number braved the cold mountain water for a bath. Dinner had a number of treats. Hot toddies made with the Ron (Rum) we had purchased on the trail earlier, fresh fruit juice and spices. Excellent. Also later, the cook brought in a candle lit birthday cake. Not a complete surprise but nonetheless really appreciated. It was creatively decorated with thin streams of chocolate and toffee toppings. Noice! All sang. What a treat! The celebratory mood was still insufficient to keep most people out of bed beyond 2030. Reflecting back later, and having met the people from the parallel Peru Treks group, we guess the groups had been constructed according to some predictable responses to the stresses and strains of each trekking day. The younger ones are capable of staying up! Everyone wore extra layers of clothing because it was shaping up to be very cold. I ended up in my -5C rated sleeping bag, with full thermal underwear and thick socks and a fleece. I was on the edge of cold, and Catherine was cold. Also some degree of discomfort sleeping with low oxygen pressure and mild nose bleeds.

Inca Trail Day 3

We woke to another crystal clear day, which is apparently a special treat because it can often be overcast, foggy or drizzling. This time there was no Jimmy to provide the morning drink service to the door of our tent, but other porters did a pretty good job. I stayed away from the coca tea as I felt it gave me just too much of a hit on the previous day. The day was destined to be long so we enjoyed a hearty breakfast. It was challenging to decide just what to wear as it was cold now, but soon to warm up. The first stop was within an hour so we would have a chance to rejig. Our walking was remarkably easy this morning, considering the challenges of the previous day. An hour up, I stopped beside the trail to strip down some layers. Packing things away in my backpack I noticed an offensive smell. Note to self: watch where you put your hand. We visited Runkurakay ruins along the way and continued our build up to Machu Picchu. Here William told us about the Inca messengers who used to run these paths to keep information flowing for the communities along it. The group sat together on one of the small terraces and talked, while our backpacks were under the eyes of a porter. There were at least four other trekking groups with us as well. Far from serene, but still brilliant. William also explained the use of peppermint leaves as a preservative for potatoes and other crops in the rounded storage buildings.

We mounted the next pass (Qochapata, 3950m) with relative ease and all stopped on a high meadow to rehydrate, photograph and compare experiences. Bill and Catherine climbed to a slightly higher peak for the photographs. The scenery was getting even more spectacular as the forests became more lush and the distant snow-capped mountains became clearer. Still many more downward steps to negotiate, and that felt harder somehow.

We were surprised to learn that perhaps only a third of the trail we were following that day was truly Inca in origin. (Of the whole trail about 70-80% is Inca). You could tell the Inca parts by the excellence in masonry. A superb mountain valley opened up in front of us. Steep cliffs, mountain brook, high alpine marsh and small lake, patches of cloud forest. All rich greens and browns. Photography which had slipped into the background the previous day, came back to the fore. As we walked the next superb ruin, Sayaqmarka, came into view on a prominent bluff, over looking the valleys far below. The name means inaccessible and given our preceding two day walk, that name is apt. We left our packs down below and climbed the narrow Inca staircase to explore it. Again based on the outside walls and the arrangements inside, one was tempted to imagine a military purpose. The current archeological interpretation certainly cites a defensive function, but apparently the walls never experienced an assault. Luckily also, the Spanish Conquistadors never found it otherwise it would have suffered the same fate as the Inca buildings in Cusco – destruction and over-building. Across the valley were other buildings (Cochamanka) that were clearly stores for agricultural products. Both ruins showed the quality of Inca masonry and craftsmanship about 500 years ago. For example the stone blocks were all fitted together in intricate patterns, and each of the stone door jambs were expertly drilled to accommodate leather or totoro rope hinges. William grouped us on the highest floor of the ruins and told us stories of the Inca’s and the efforts to “re-discover” these by Yale University and the National Geographic Society. Hiram Bingham is credited with the discovery but there were at least two other notable mentions of the ruins before Hiram. And documented history clearly show tshat the local people were also aware of its existence. Before setting off again, William pointed out the aquaducts leading into Sayaqmarka, the back stair escape route, as well as the path of another Inca trail etched onto the sides of a nearby mountain. The network of buildings we had seen over the last three days suggested a connected community with an awareness of the broader world outside these valleys.

We left this site at about 11am and set our sights on the lunch spot which was over the next ridge and several hundred metres higher up. The path to Phayapatamanca (Town in the Clouds) was much less steep than our previous paths and it wound through spectacular cloud forest. Again we were enjoying warm sunny weather without wind. A rare treat apparently. We could see the high snow-capped peaks of Veronica (5750m) and Sallantay (6180m) several ridges and valleys away from us to the south. The forest included almost perfect ferns, superb tiny orchids, and banks of moss like sphagnum moss. Unlike the rest of the trek there was even the occasional bird. In places the trail traversed shear cliffs. Precipitous climbs above us, and little to stop a fall below us. My acrophobia was getting aggravated – but this was nothing. The path continued steadily along the ridge line and we could see a little cottage in the distance. In places it disappeared into tunnels between huge boulders and the bed rock of the slope. Apparently the template for these tunnels was created by the Inca, but they had to be expanded given the much larger size of the trekkers of 2012. As usual the porters had set a campsite up for us and clapped as we entered. This spot was truly spectacular with views into the deep valley of the Urubamba River far below us, and up to the mountains ranges to our north. The tents were perched on high terraces. No one could complain about the food. This time we were treated to Quinoa soup, fried chicken, piles of rice, and simple salads. I tried to catch 40 winks during the siesta break but the air was too thin, and my apnoea kicked in. Just below us was another ruin. William told us more stories as we were overlooking the wondrous view. Ahead of us we could see the extensive terracing we would visit later. The next phase of the trip is known as the “Gringo Killer” – thousands upon thousands of irregular, steep steps heading downwards. We started on this including a small section of the original Inca trail – steps now heavily eroded by thousands of feet over hundreds of years. Again the porters embarrassed us by running past us, and rock hopping with 25 kg packs. Some tourist adventurers attempted to run down the mountain using the same techniques. We all wondered if they would career out of control over the edge of the mountain never to be seen again. At least one or two of them we saw the next day at Machu Picchu so some survived that adventure. I found that bent knees and a hopping gate was helpful, and less stressful. We diverted from the path to the next campsite (Winay Wayna) to visit the terraced ruins we had seen from above. These were actually huge. Perhaps 20 or 30 terraces, supported by carefully constructed rock walls, covering a vertical distance of perhaps 250 metres. Very impressive. We stopped for the key group photographs before heading into camp. The paths down and around the terraces were amazingly narrow and steep. One wonders how agricultural produce made its way down these paths. As if by design, a domestic Llama was grazing on one of the terraces, silhouetted against the evening sky. Many photos taken. Bill told the story of how Ben Hausdorff announced he had “pooped his pants” at the absolutely perfect time amongst a large group of photographers awaiting the perfect moment at the Grand Canyon some 18 years ago. We waited for the perfect moment for sunset hues over the Andes. No poop. William managed to find a particularly rapid way down the steps of these terraces. It took us 10 mins more. Heading into the campsite we walked across well-grazed grass terracing. Effectively lawn. All the trekkers continued to use their two walking sticks – after so many steps everyone felt unsteady on their feet. We headed to this last campsite as darkness fell. Winay Wayna campsite was (is) pretty special. There was obviously the same number of campers as the previous two nights, but they were crammed in more tightly here across three or four steep terraces. Our tents were arranged in a line along a narrow terrace. Tents below us. Steeper slopes above us. If we had walked one metre too far out of our tent, we would have fallen the three metres onto the tents below us. As is typical for Peru, no Australian-style warning signs, or American-style guard rails. The risk is yours. This is no nanny state. We set our gear down and joined a hastily-arranged briefing session. Two things were on the agenda. Firstly, this would be the last night we would be with the porters. They needed to leave early in the morning to catch the train back, and so we had to thank them and provide the tips. Also this was the night that parting comments could be made to the porters and cook, and so Bill Hausdorff was “volunteered” to make a speech on behalf of the group. The second item involved the early start for Machu Picchu the next morning. Several members of the group were happy to take on the negotiations around tips for the porters and cook. Bill collected details and suggestions for the speech.

Another great dinner and the farewell event was marvellous. Bill found just the right balance for the English and Spanish speakers, and also threw in some new phrases of Quechua that he learnt. He emphasised, following some comments made by the group, the privilege we all felt being supported by this large group of local porters. This is their country, and only with their support were we able to get access to this wonderful wilderness. The jokes about single woman and needy porters continued, but no damage done. In addition to the group-averaged tips, we also took the opportunity to tip the cook, Umberto, directly. The birthday cake at 3600m far, far away from shops, was a very special treat for me. Again everyone was in bed by 0900. As our tent was close to the porters sleeping quarters, the night was a cacophony of snores, grunts and tweets.

Inca Trail Day 4

We were woken at 0340 for the start of the trek. No hot drink service this morning. We quickly got out gear out of the tent as it was being pulled apart around us, and assembled for a light breakfast. We were all stumbling around with headlamps as we headed to the check-in gate at about 0410. It was not particularly cold, though the clear night meant we still wore several layers. Many other trekking groups were headed to the gate at about the same time. The rush was merely to get a spot in the queue as this would influence your view a little later in the day. It took us all of two minutes to get down to the queue which already had about five trekking groups ahead of us. It was still very dark, though you could just make out the outline of the mountains in the moonlight and pre-dawn light. Trekkers were all around us. Some groups danced, some like us, did yoga stretches, other groups just stood and stared. There was time to go back to camp and use the facilities there. As dawn approached cold air dropped down out of the mountains. All ready to go, but it was only 0430. The gate was to open at 0530. When the gate finally opened, the whole process was merely a formality. The guide told the gate keeper how many trekkers were in our group, he counted us through, and that was that. The walk to the Sun Gate was pretty easy with the now standard ups and downs, steps and rocks. In a few spots the mountainside had collapsed, and the trail had been repacked and vaguely secured. Rubble above us, and really nothing but steep rubble below us. Again my acrophobia gave a twinge. Close to the Sun Gate the path became a 50 metre stretch of “monkey stairs”. The only way up was on hands and knees. Even here, as with other spots on this last part of the trail, ultra-keen trekkers just had to pass us. Maybe they were keen to secure that perfect photographic spot. As we discovered within 20 mins, there are plenty of spots and very little capacity for anyone to exclude anyone else. Finally climbing up to the Sun Gate we were presented with a beautiful pre-dawn vista including the classic view of Machu Picchu stretching from left to right, with three hills behind it, and high mountain ranges behind that. And no people were in Machu PIchu! We set ourselves up as a group along one of the Inca-built terraces to watch the impending sunrise. The crowd of trekkers was abuzz with excitement. The young Brazilian we had dubbed “the loudest man in the universe” had called his Mum in Brazil and told her where he is right now. The young fellows on the ledge just below us had music playing from their iPhones. This annoyed some of our trekking buddies but for me the conversational hubbub was so strong anyway, what difference did a bit of music make? It takes all sorts. Cameras clicked almost continuously as the sunlight snuck down the mountain to finally shine on the Machu Picchu ruins. The colours were very hard to capture as there was a good deal of morning haze and it was pretty dark. Dark greens, greys and browns. I felt that I for one, had waited a long time to finally see this. I did not expect to share the first experience with so many people.

Once the ruins were completely lit up, and it looked like nothing more wondrous would happen we set off down the Inca trail towards Machu Picchu. People kept arriving at the Sun Gate so our positions were no doubt quickly filled. The path down was steady and rocky, though nothing like we had experienced on this trip. Tourists who had maybe stayed at the Machu Picchu Lodge were making their way up. From the puffing, it seemed as though few were in the physical shape needed to do this climb, at this altitude. People of all shapes, sizes and ages were heading up. Our group stopped frequently on the downward trip. One magic panorama after the next. We walked directly into the ruins and to a large flat rock which was conveniently positioned for the perfect shot of the lower ruins of Machu Picchu plus Huayna Picchu. Those with yellow, Peru Trek shirts wore them with pride. It was only 0830 but still hordes of tourists poured into the ruins park area. We took a little more time to explore independently, higher up in the ruins, and searching for a novel perspective. I saw one lady trying to photography her shadow grasping at Machu Picchu – unique. There was still some doubt in our minds whether the seriously steep, impressively high mountain behind Machu Picchu was Huayna Picchu – the one we had signed up to climb – or some other mountain. All the pieces fell into place and we realised we were signed up for the big one. Some trepidation amongst us four it is fair to say.

Our group gathered again and we exited the Inca Trail proper. This was a chance to find a toilet, buy some supplies and also get the key stamp in our passports. There were thousands of tourists now, arriving by the busload from the valley below. In the toilet queue I ended up behind one of the crazy trekkers who was running down the mountain the day before. After paying his 2 Soles for the use, he took his allocation of toilet paper plus a whole lot more. I wondered about people’s perceptions of risk. We re-entered the park and made our way to a central terrace and settled for some explanations from William. It was a bright sunny morning, and the biggest concern I had was getting sunburnt. I understand this is not the concern most visitors have when here. The masonic arts we had seen in other ruins were exemplified many many more times there. Level after level of small cottage-like structures, rounded buildings thought to have religious significance, aquaducts and fountains for people. In between the buildings were small plots of perfect lawns, that were thought to be farmlets when people lived here. Some trees remained, and William showed us photos of the ruins back in 1911, when these were the dominant vegetation. Reflecting back on the events since the re-discovery, it seems highly likely that the artifacts and treasures of Machu Picchu are dispersed in private collections and museums elsewhere in the world. Certainly some are still in Peru, and some are the subject of on-going discussions with the current custodians. William explained that the function of Machu Picchu is now believed to be a major market place. Goods from as far away as the Galapagos Islands and southern Bolivia, which were the absolute outskirts of the Inca empire, were exchanged here. The resident population was never very high, perhaps 1000, but many people passed through and took advantage of its facilities and no doubt, aspect. Religious rituals were also practiced, and the large round buildings, with carefully polished stones were the place for this. Inside these there were wall nooks which were just big enough to mount the mummified remains of important ancestors. Mummification for the Inca is described on the web, but one key step was the insertion of the long bones into the emptied body – in behind the ribs. In this arrangement, which we saw in various places, the mummy is very compact, and able to be shelved for long-term reverence. Amazingly, Machu Picchu is thought to have been occupied for little more than a century. All that craftsmanship and construction energy! Circumstances must have changed significantly for the people. When it was rediscovered, there were only two or three families living there. William also showed us the engineering innovations which included flexible foundations so that the buildings would withstand earthquakes. Certainly in the last 600 years there have been many earthquakes in Peru and yet Machu Picchu stands. There has been some recent discussion however that it might be slowing slipping down the mountain. Let’s hope not.

We ended our little tour at the quarry where some of the giant granite boulders used in the buildings were shaped for inclusion in the walls. Some larger boulders had been transported many miles from other quarries, and obviously many hundreds of metres up the mountain sides. Apparently the work was done by people working with free will, rather than as slaves, and using a range of simple tools like rollers, lubricants and slides. The cracking of the boulders into smaller, more manageable pieces was achieved using plant material jammed into cracks in the rock, and water to drive its expansion. Apparently there is evidence of the Incas even relocating rivers and streams to get the boulders from one “side” of the stream to the other.

Our tickets to climb Huayna Picchu gave us a one hour window during which to commence the climb. We left the tour group at about 1030 and headed off. Unfortunately for several of the group, tickets could not be bought on the day. Bill, Wendell, Catherine and I signed into the register and we noted the solemnity of the whole process. We also noticed some of the walkers coming back looked in poorer physical shape than us, so our confidence was boosted. After a short drop to cross from one ridge to the Huaya Picchu monolith, we started the climb in earnest. The trail soon became steeper than even the short stretch of monkey steps on the Inca trail. Thankfully cables had been provided for the more precarious bits. We pushed upwards. We met a group of older Peruvians who were enjoying the climb with the help of Coca leaves. Bill partook and reckoned they really helped his stamina. More upwards. In some places the steps had been etched out of bald granite rocks, and the slopes below offered no hindrance to a spectacular fall. My (Greg) acrophobia was now piqued. Towards the top a series of terraces had been constructed by the Incas and provided us with temporary respite. I got to one perhaps 95% of the way up. When we had to negotiate some steps, under an overhanging rock, cantilevered over a sheer drop of several hundred metres, I called it a day. As various bloggers write, it is not that technically challenging for those training in mountaineering, but very likely to challenge acrophobics – Si senor! We grabbed a photograph of the four of us, and Bill, Wendell and Catherine climbed on. Cath found the large open area right at the the top to be more psychologically challenging than physically challenging. Up there a ricketty bamboo ladder led to three flat rocks angled downwards, and traversed a drop of several hundred metres.

When the others got back to where I (Greg) was sitting, each described how this was the most “vertiginous” climb they had ever attempted and achieved. Tales of steps suspended from sheer block walls, overhanging 700m sheer drops, few hand holds. Impossibly steep, narrow steps, and a crazy collection of thrill-seeking tourists who were climbing the high rocks with apparent confidence. Even Bill, who is pretty intrepid, noted on the very top that he found it impossible to stand up. He sat for photographs and left it to the “International gay guys” to take the photos from an upright posture. We could not believe that Elise, Karri and KJ had reached those heights, and then stood for the famous “three times knickers” photograph for Facebook. Intrepid indeed. At my 95% platform, I was able to watch a succession of trekkers make the same decision as I had and the more intrepid Italians bounce from rock to rock. I experienced vicarious acrophobia several times as people insisted on standing right beside the precipous for the perfect shot.

The three others returned to my spot about 30 mins later. We started down the steep steps. I subsequently wondered how many lives Huayna Picchu had claimed. There is plenty of sensationalist text on the web about the place, but amazingly no stories of falls and injuries. M.T. Ritter describes the climb quite clearly though he was clearly unperturbed about the technical difficulty. Maybe some climbing skills would have helped. Maybe even some more ropes, though those interventions might totally remove the sense of adventure and the thrill. After that climb, the descent was relatively trivial for we four. The biggest worry was getting back to the Machu Picchu bus station by 1330 and our subsequent re-connection with the tour group. This turned out to be no problem. By this time however Machu Picchu was so packed with people that wandering about amounted to standing in lines. We did experience a little bit of geographic embarrassment as we moved quickly through the labyrinth of rooms and paths.

We got to the minibus and headed down. The road is tortuous with perhaps fifty tight switch-backs. The little Mercedes busses seemed to handle it extra well and I wondered whether they had four-wheel steering. We got off in Aguas Calientes, the little touristy town at the base of the Machu Picchu mountains. Our yellow T-shirts were something of a badge of honour to differentiate us walkers from the hordes of other people swarming around this place. The group agreed to meet at a little restaurant for lunch. We found them relying as often was the case, on Bill’s Spanish. The group cheered as we came in. Perhaps it was the beer kicking in, but we certainly felt we had achieved something out of the ordinary. From the feedback we looked both stunned and exhausted. Maybe a little bit chuffed as well. We hoed into the pizza and local beer. We decided as a group to enjoy the actual hot springs for which this place is known, so we left our luggage with the restaurateurs and headed up the hill. Aguas Calientes is certainly a tourist trap, but nonetheless we were able to hire bathers (togs) and towels and make our way to the entrance of the springs complex. The guy at the ticket kiosk was spectacularly inefficient so it took us a while to actually get in there. The complex had about seven small pools each of a slightly different temperature – all an uninviting colour (greyish) and turbidity. Not difficult to determine which pool had the right temperature because that one was already occupied by all of our tour group as well as the other Peru Treks group. Our group was together and talking, the other group was together, talking and drinking hundreds of beers (see earlier comments about our group going to bed early). We stayed in the wonderful warm water till our fingers were well past the pruned stage, but it was very relaxing.

That evening we took the train back to Ollantaytambo station, and then minibus back to Cusco. While lots more beers were consumed on the train (again by the other group), there was a lot of snoozing on the bus back to Cusco. We were dropped at Plaza San Francisco at about 2230 and we walked across town and up the hill to Casa de Campo. I must admit it was a bit of a struggle getting back up that hill, but clean clothes, and the room were welcome sights. Bill and Wendell were to fly out early the next morning so we said our heart-felt farewells. We had had about a month together and seen many many unforgettable things. As I fell off to sleep experiencing the customary shortness of breath, dog barks echoed across Cusco.









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Photos

Machu Picchu
As the dawn light comes through the mountain passes

Llactapata
Day 1

From inside a ruin
The incredible masonry without mortar

The trek scenary
Sayacmarco is on the distant slope

Bill on top of the Andes
That mountain pass at his right elbow - that Dead Woman's Pass at 4200m that we went through the day before.

From the Sun Gate to Machu Picchu at dawn
And those boots are Catherine's

Near the summit of Huayna Picchu
That's the big mountain behind Machu Picchu in all the photos!

What an achievement!
Huayna Picchu summit here we come

Looking over Machu Picchu
From the top of Huayna Picchu - the large zigzag path is the bus route, and the high path is our trek in

The masonary within Machu Picchu
Including the space for the mummy

Comments

[Dad]

Jenny Craig
Looks like this workout was just as effective, but more scenic

[Lucinda Corrigan]

happy birthday
thank you Greg and Catherine for your marvellous description of your climb and the whole experience, what a lovely place to celebrate your birthday, happy homecoming!! Lucinda