Day 309 to 323 (Dec 4 - 18) - Peru

blog by Bronia

Lima

We arrived in Lima just for a short visit before we would have to fly on further south to Arequipa. We had arranged it that way as we'd heard that Lima was big, dangerous and there was not much to see or do - as said by our Rough Guide/Lonely Planet and a few travellers. So, with only had 2 weeks to see Peru's highlights we thought it best to not stay too long.

We booked a room in an old Spanish colonial mansion in the Miraflores district of Lima as our flight landed at 10:30pm at night. The mansion was beautiful, although peeling paint and creaking floor boards spoke of grander times gone by. Breakfast was served on a lovely terracotta tiled terrace with arched columns providing shade from the morning sun. We sat and drank strong coffee, bread and fruit with a floppy eared dog lolling in the sunshine nearby. Just idyllic.

Our flight to Arequipa was in the evening so we had a full day to explore Lima. Contrary to what our travel books said, where it warned of danger and unpleasantness, we found that Lima was lovely and relaxed. I guess it is all relative. Having just come from Quito, Ecuador where we found the atmosphere decidedly sinister with a hard edge, we found Lima laid back and pleasant. Added to which, we were now staunchly in the southern hemisphere and therefore it is officially summer here !

Lima, lying at sea level, is hot at this time of year with a cool breeze and plazas full of geraniums, palm trees, bougainvillea and blooming blossom trees everywhere. We took a taxi to the centre of town and spent the day walking through Plaza de San Martin, through the pedestrian shopping street of Jiron de la Union and into the Gran Plaza de Armas surrounded by churches, parliamentary buildings and with the requisite fountain and statue in the centre of the square.

We ate good food, wandered some more, watched a political protest wind its way through the streets to the beat of drums, didn't run into Paddington Bear unfortunately, and late afternoon headed back to our hotel collecting our things to catch our flight to Arequipa. A brief but great visit.

Arequipa

We arrived in Arequipa late. It was nearly midnight. A taxi from the airport drove us the 7km to our pre-booked hotel to save us trudging the streets after dark with our backpacks looking for a bed. Pre-booking is always risky as you don't know what you are getting. Will there be bedbugs and bathroom scum from previous occupants?

Our hotel, La Casa de Margott turned out to be wonderful. An old colonial building painted in yellow against the white sillar stone that is typical of this region with a courtyard and a large palm tree rising out of the centre. Small narrow steps led up from the courtyard to our hotel room and terrace from which there was a fantastic view of Arequipa's rooftops and the surrounding mountains.

The room we chose was spotlessly clean and set at the back away from the street traffic. Ah peace and quiet. Something you grow to appreciate enormously when you travel. We wanted to stay for three nights and so bargained for a lower price, breakfast included, with a lovely man working behind the bar who prepared us a local mate (tea) before we head up to bed.

Our stay in Arequipa was simply delightful. After the smoke and pollution and harshness of Quito, travelling through Peru from Lima to Arequipa was wonderful. Already we knew we were going to love being in Peru and were soon wishing that we had more time here.

For the moment at least, we had three days in Arequipa which were in a word, wonderful. Arequipa is a charming colonial city, founded by the Spanish in 1540 (they arrived in Latin America in 1532) and predominantly constructed of white sillar stone (volcanic) and lying at 2300m (10,500ft) from sea level. Standing magnificent and proud behind Arequipa is the famous "El Misti", a volcano of 5822 metres (19,100 feet) in height that dominates the town and surrounding landscape. At this time of year there is no snow, but we were able to admire its steep arid slopes and gaze at the range of mountains - Chachani and Pichu Pichu that lay beyond it in a line that diminished into the distant hazy horizon.

We spent our time here wandering the streets, taking photos of old colonial buildings and visiting the many churches and cathedrals there are here. In particular, the Cathedral, built in 1656 and the largest and most prominent building, sits on one side of a fantastic colonial square, Plaza de las Armas. You'll notice that each city across South America calls its main square "Plaza de las Armas". It's a colonial thing.

We spent ages here wandering through the square with gardens, benches, locals and thousands of pigeons. It felt like being in Trafalgar Square, London with the number of pigeons who fought for the space fluttering around you and and hoping you had bird seed for them like the locals. We did not. Around three sides of the plaza are colonial Spanish buildings with multiple arches which are simply spectacular both day and lit up at night.

We walked in the shade of the arched corridors of the plaza buildings past cafés, shops and bakeries. The bakeries are simply incredible. I don't think we have ever seen so many gateaux, cakes, tortes, pastries, flans, rolls, chocolates etc. on display in any European country as we have here. Every shop would have a glass cabinet that would rotate to display the most gluttonous, sticky, sweetly rich, calorie screaming cakes that begged to be tasted. Obviously we had to sample a few of them for 4 soles a slice (6 Peruvian Soles = $1US) and yes they are as divine and decadent as they look.

One morning we went to the Santa Catalina de Siena Convent which was founded in 1579, less than 40 years after the Spanish first arrived and began to conquer the Incas. It too is constructed with the stark white sillar stone typical of the town. Over the hundreds of years of its existence, combined with the various earthquakes that have shook this region, the convent has changed in architectural look so that it is now a mixture of Spanish colonial as well as native styles. Many of the walls and interior of the buildings are painted in brilliant reds, yellows and blues that are starkly offset against the white sillar, the green of the trees and the red of the geraniums that are grown in pots everywhere.

The convent still has 15 Madres (Mothers) and 20 Hermanas (Sisters) and they are now housed in a more modern section of the monastery which is joined to the old convent but not, understandably, accessible to tourists.

One of the more famous nuns, Sister Ana, who was beatified by Pope John Paul II, for some miracle or other, lived here up til her death in 1686 and her personal effects and bedroom can still be seen pretty much as they were.

What makes this convent so fascinating is the way in which it was built and now stands. Buildings attached to buildings create alleyways and little corners that you wander down in a labyrinth like fashion ducking your head as you enter each little doorway that reveals a stark floor, an old wooden bed, a washing bowl and a cross. A very stark existence for these nuns who would give up everything to live in solitude within these convent walls. To further emphasise their renunciation of their old lives and the pursuit of God, an enormously high wall encircles the whole convent complex keeping the city out and the nuns in quiet contemplative peace.

Wandering these alleys, with Spanish names like "Avenida de Granada" and "Calle de Sevilla" we passed several hours in complete peace and serenity.

Before we knew it our three days were over and it was time to move on northwards towards Cuzco, stopping first for a visit in Colca Canyon.

Colca Canyon

The Colca Canyon region lies about six hours north of Arequipa. It is worth visiting as it is said to be twice the depth of the Grand Canyon, USA at 3191metres (10,469feet) in depth and the worlds deepest. There is a neighbouring canyon called Cotahuasi vying for the first place spot against the Colca (it states it is 163m deeper) but it hasn't won it yet and, as time was short before we had to head to Cuzco, we shopped around for a quick two-day tour to the region.

To get there Dave and I booked tickets on a Tourist Bus that would take us from Arequipa to Chivay, the closest town to the Colca Canyon, where we would stop overnight.

Our ticket price was one of those which included transport there, lunch, hotel in Chivay, breakfast the next morning, bus to the canyon and then return to Arequipa along with a guide the whole way who spoke Spanish and English. Buying a tourist package like this is really the only way to get there and back to the Colca Canyon since local buses don't go the whole way.

So off we set. With a bus full of tourists. Well, not exactly. It was supposed to be a bus full of tourists but ended up with two buses of students celebrating their end of year party. Something like a graduation party on wheels. You can imagine Dave and my joy.

Of tourists there were five. Yes, I repeat five - and that includes us. The rest of the two buses driving in tandem contained 60 screaming students. You think I'm exaggerating don't you? I'm not.

They climbed on board, after having first painted slogans in white paint across every window creating a limited view outside the windows. We could still see the scenery but it was in between slogans like "Clase de 2007" and "Promo de Escuala de Santa Maria" and lovely useful phrases like that. Once aboard they proceeded to all scream for "musica."
After two hours of it Dave was ready to throw their getto-blaster through the window. We had six hours of it. Also, to add to our delight, with the encouragement of the teachers they got up in the aisles and danced. And danced. Bums hit our heads as they wiggled and swayed and screams of laughter echoed throughout the journey.

This dancing occurred whilst we drove along bumpy dirt track roads amongst some of the most spectacular scenery we've ever seen. We were heading into the Andes once more and rivers and little mud villages lay in fertile valleys with old agricultural terraces climbing high into the mountains. Along the way we stopped to take photos of grazing alpacas, llamas, vicunas (similar to alpacas) at 4,100 metres (13,451 feet) in altitude. It was high, cold and breathless but beautiful. We also climbed up to some caves with ancient carvings of alpacas and man hunting them (see pic) carved about 10,000yrs ago. It was incredible and despite party bus it was a fantastic journey to Chivay.

So on we went with the students and the guide who in between giving us history of the area would ask the students could they please not through sweet packets and plastic bottles out the window as we were in a protected nature reserve? and could they please keep their heads, arms and legs inside the bus as he didn't want any injuries? Us tourists were not sure - some injured students were becoming desirable.

In reality the students were relatively harmless. They were just having fun and celebrating as we all did at that age: the end of an era when school is no longer mandatory. Some of them tried speaking to us in broken English with the little they had learned (they aren't taught English at school) and with my Spanish and newly won admirers I asked them to keep it down a little. They were pretty good for the rest of the day.

The town of Chivay itself is tiny and very rurally traditional. We arrived at dusk and wandered around the small town square where at each point of the square they were erecting huge A-frame towers with banners and decorations in celebration of Christmas and the Virgin Mary. It was rather cute to see that to make the banners sparkle they had attached silver and aluminum roasting platters to it in the shape of a heart. When you don't have much, you make do with the little you have.

The square was buzzing with activity. Children, hyper with excitement at the upcoming festival ran up and down the streets and challenged people to impromptu games of Fussbol (table-football for the English) on tables erected in the road. Dave and another tourist had a game against some six year olds. They lost 4-1 before they had even blinked. The kids pocketed the betting money and ran off giggling with joy that they had outwitted a couple of gringos.

We wandered through a traditional market with Andean women were dressed in their traditional billowing pleated skirts, laced tops, brightly woven shawls that double as baby slings and food carriers. Their hair was woven in the traditional style of two thick plaits that hang down to their waists and on their heads they wear traditional felt hats, rather like rounded top hats. In front of them lay their wares on shawls. Bread, potatoes, battered tomatoes, carrots, quinoa, maize, herbs, eggs all spread out in front of them as they sat crossed legged, shawls huddled around them to protect against the biting wind with babies fast asleep in their slings on their backs. Such a beautiful natural sight.

We wandered round the town until sunset. Then, to escape the cold wind blowing through Chivay that night (we were altitude so it gets pretty cold) we found a small restaurant with a mud brick stove burning brightly and we sat at long trestle tables with candles and shared a lovely dinner with a couple from the USA who had been our suffering companions on the same student bus journey.

The next morning we were up at 5am to eat breakfast and be on the bus at 6am to see the Mirador del Colca Canyon, said to be the most scenic viewpoint of the canyon and where, early in the morning you can occasionally see condors flying high.

The students, celebrating the night before were shattered, late and hungover. The guide and the five of us tourists started getting impatient when by 6:30am they were still dragging their heels. Since the teachers were as late as the students one of the other tourists and us tourists took it into our own hands to get them into gear.

Feeling very much like a strict school governess we walked up and down the hotel hallways banging on doors and rousing the students to get their gear and pile onto the bus, whereupon they all, sleep deprived, fell asleep.

The drive to the Mirador del Colca Canyon was therefore a dream. All students slept like babies and the five of us tourists sat in complete silence enjoying the early morning drive amongst the most spectacular scenery. Arriving at entrance to the canyon at 7:30am we did a couple of hours trek up to the "Mirador" (viewpoint) where on route we chanced to see three condors flying overhead. We were lucky. Our guide said that they hadn't seen condors in a couple of weeks at that spot.

We sat at the edge of the Colca Canyon and gazed in awe. Far far below us a river flowed and from it's shores the steep Andean slopes rose above us. In the distance we could see even higher peaks, snow covered, rise up and shine in the brilliant sunshine. Small foot tracks snaked their way across the hillsides and llamas grazed on the slopes. We sat in silence, feeling the warmth of the hot sun on our backs and just absorbed the atmosphere. It was worth every students scream to get there.

Going back however, we were determined not to endure the same interminable journey and so I once more set out to find a bus to take us back. We happened upon two English girls who said they thought they had space on their bus for a few extra bottoms so I approached their guide. This guide was willing and much to Dave and my joy we found ourselves an hour later heading away from Colca Canyon on a proper tourist bus, quiet, comfortable and miles away from the screaming students.

The story ends with Dave and I going into the travel agent that night we got back from Colca Canyon and giving a big piece of our mind, in Spanish, refusing to leave the shop until they had returned 50% of our money. Basically they had shoved us, on the cheap, with the students and they knew what they had done was wrong. They tried protesting but we stuck around, much to their discomfort and the fact that I spoke Spanish meant there was no avoiding what was being said. They understood perfectly and we walked away with our refund feeling that it compensated somewhat for the outward journey.

We got our money back just in time which paid for a quick dinner and then it was off to the bus station to get a night bus of 12 hours to Cuzco.

Cuzco

We arrived in Cuzco at 5:30am and got a taxi to a hotel we'd picked out of our guide book mainly because it was based in the recommended artists' quarter of the city known as San Blas and seemed within walking distance of everywhere.

Our hotel was up a winding cobbled street accessed by a large heavy wooden and brass door which led into two courtyards around which the rooms faced with views once again over roof tops, this time Cuzco rooftops and the spires and domes of churches and cathedrals.

Although very touristy, is a fantastic city to visit. Dave and I arrived there a few days before our Inca Trail trek to Machu Picchu in order to acclimatise to the new height (3399m / 11,151ft) and visit this famous Inca city.

Cuzco, was the heart of the Inca Empire. The Incas were a tribe that existed alongside other Andean mountain tribes (i.e. Pokara, Aymara, Quechua) for hundreds of years fighting for land, trading and protecting "their own". Then, about the year 1200, reasons being unclear, they began to dominate and enslave other tribes and take over their lands.

By 1530 the Inca empire was at its height and occupied land that is now known as Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia and Chile. Their downfall, amongst other reasons, occurred in 1532 when the Spanish arrived, and the Incas truly believed that they were the sons of the Sun God that they worshipped and therefore, with their advanced weaponry, skill in diplomacy and dominance and "Sun God" like status, the Spanish dominated.

It is too lengthy to get into a whole lesson on the Inca society and religion but it is worth mentioning for the sake of context that for the Incas, the condor, the snake and the puma were sacred. They were also worshippers of the Sun, the Moon and all elements in nature. To this end, they built their cities to honour nature, wildlife and the heavens. Even today, Andean cultures that have survived still practice these faiths mixed with Catholicism.

The city of Cuzco was built in the shape of a Puma, (Machu Picchu was built in the shape of a Condor). Each city they built had temples for offerings to their various gods and the construction of their buildings, streets and squares were all symbolic and sympathetic to nature and their gods. Sacrifices of animals and virgins would be made to appease the gods, pray for rain and good weather for their crops.

It is said when the Spanish Conquistadors arrived in Cuzco they said that it rivalled any city in Europe such was its beauty and skilled masonry work. Despite this admiration for the city, the Spanish took over and destroyed many of the temples, building Catholic churches in their place, but fortunately they did leave enough of the original city's Puma shape and some of the Inca stone buildings, so that today, tourists can visit these sites, and see the Inca architecture and building techniques.

This mix of Inca and Spanish architectural influence here is beautiful. Again, around the main square, Plaza de Armas(complete with requisite fountain) there are two beautiful cathedrals filled with work from the Cuzquena school of Art, a famous art style combining indigenous and spanish influence that spread through South America.

Dave and I spent the few days before our Inca Trek wandering to all these historic sights, climbing breathlessly up and down the wonderful winding streets, happening upon fantastic colonial arched squares that spread out through the city and gazing out on views of hills, mountains and architecture. Cuzco, being touristy, is also full of amazing shops and so I managed to drag him around shops of silver jewellry, tapestries, paintings, Inca ware, woven goods such as sweaters, scarves, hats, bags made from alpaca, llama and sheeps wool.

We found a great little cafe that overlooked the Plaza de Armas main square and sat sipping coffees (wow they are strong here !!) from a balcony, whiling away time people watching. The evenings we tended to frequent our favourite restaurant bar "Jacks Cafe" that served delicious pumpkin soup, tomato and avocado sandwiches, beef stew with mashed potato, burgers and blended juices. Just good old wholesome home style food.

Relaxed and ready for our upcoming Inca Trek we bought a few last supplies including batteries, ponchos, water bottles and snacks galore for our hike and spent one last night in a comfy bed with hot water bottle to warm us before we spent the next three nights sleeping on the ground in a tent.

Machu Picchu

The night before the trek in Cuzco we met with our guide and the other trekkers for a debriefing on what to take and what to expect. I guess it was the time of year, being so near to Xmas, as some groups can be as large as 16 people but we got lucky and had what was in actual fact a "private tour."

The only other trekkers in our group were a couple the same age as us Sean and Kerry. Sean was originally from New York, USA but now lived with his wife Kerry in Perth, Australia. We hit it off with them straight away and after asking the reassuring questions of "You aren't planning on racing this trek?" or "you haven't been training on Kilemanjaro for two months for this?" etc., and hearing that they were about the same fitness level as us, all four of us laughed, breathed a sigh of relief, and realised we were going to get on just fine.

Armed with daunting maps of what we were about to embark on with a topographical image of the ups and downs our legs were going to have to take us, as well as last minute advice from our guide on what to pack, we said goodnight and set our alarms for 5am.

Our trek was as follows:

DAY 1
Our guide for the next four days, Domingo, picked us up at 5:30am after we managed to gobble down a bread roll slathered in homemade jam. En route we picked up Sean and Kerry from their hotel and then on to pick up some porters who would be with us on the journey.

All four of us trekkers had made the very smart decision to hire a porter for each couple to carry most of our gear through the mountains rather than lugging everything ourselves. With 10kg allowance for each porter who would carry our clothes, sleeping bags, hiking gear and medical kit it meant that we only had to carry our daily hiking essentials in a small day bag including sunscreen, sunhat, waterproof gear for the promised rainfall, water, snacks, camera etc. Much easier.

But before I go on I should introduce our whole group. You already know Sean and Kerry. Then there is Domingo, born in the Andes and originally a Quecha (indigeous with their own Quecha language) but now fluent Spanish and working with Andean Life (our trekking company) for the past 2 yrs.

The rest of our group comprised of 8 porters. 2 of them carried our personal gear and the remaining 6 carried between them 3 sleeping tents, a dining tent (also where the porters slept at night), cooking equipment, food for 13 people for four days, fold out tables and stools, sleeping mattresses, blankets, gas canisters for the stove and numerous other packages to sustain this little moving army.

The whole operation was a sight to behold. Standing at the spot where we were to begin our trek and watching all the porters gather all our gear up and tie it on to their backs whilst wearing flip-flops (sandals) which was their footgear for the whole trip made the four of us trekkers feel very humble standing with all the top gear, walking poles and tiny daypacks that we already felt were going to be too heavy on the climbs.

How pathetic we are compared to these men cannot be sufficiently described. To get a real sense of how humbling a sight it is, is when you have been climbing 2hrs up a single slope, stopping every few hundred metres, using the stunning view as an excuse to gasp for breath and watch these porters run, literally run, up and past you with their sandals and carrying 35kg of gear on their backs to get to the campsite or lunch stop before you to set up camp, cook the food and have it waiting for you upon your exhausted arrival several hours after them.

And they never stop running. Always overtaking you, always arriving to camp before you to set up and have hot cups of tea and snacks waiting for you when you stumble in several hours after them. Always smiling, always helpful, and always humbling you into profuse thanks of appreciation for what they are doing for you. Your porters make your trip. Their fitness is staggering.

Domingo told us that there was a "race" of the Inca trail to Machu Picchu a few years ago. Why anyone would want to "race" it I don't know, because the trail, which is 38km long, is a daunting one just doing it at a walking pace for 4 days - let alone trying to run it. The winner, which is no surprise, was a porter. He ran the entire route in 3hours and 45min.

All four of us challenged Domingo that he was making it up but no, he swore it was true. (I have since made independant web searches to check the validity of this statement - and yes, it is true - the race was an international one and there are journal entries of foreigners experiences of the day).

The importance of the 3hrs and 45min must be kept in mind - not because of the distance that was covered that is barely a marathon - but because it is done over the Andean mountains AND at altitude when some mornings the four of us spent 4 hours climbing a single slope to then spend the next 4 hours climbing down it. 4 days trekking compared to under 4 hours running it by a porter was a very humbling statistic. But I digress.

It is an experience that the four of us all agreed that we'd never forget. Some of our porters had been working like this for 20yrs and now aged 58, were still able to outrun us. The Inca trail is now strictly monitored but it wasn't always so. Some of the older porters in our group remember days when they used to have to carry 50kg (now illegal - the max is 35kg) along these trails, abused and poorly paid. Now there are checkpoints along the route where tourists have to show their passes to the National Park and porters have to get their packs weighed to ensure they do not exceed the limit. Additional regulations mean that only 500 people (porters and tourists combined) are allowed on the trail at any time which also was a restriction set to try and preserve the Inca trail and site from abuse and erosion.

We started actually "trekking" after a last stop in the town of Ollantaytambo where we ate a second breakfast of pancakes and coco leaf tea (we had been chewing coco leaves - quite horrible - or drinking coco leaf tea - quite pleasant - since we'd arrived in Peru). After a stamp in our passports at the first checkpoint of the trail, "Kilometre82", we walked along a railway, across a suspension bridge and our long day ahead began.

Domingo had told us at the debriefing that Day 1 was an "easy day" and so we worriedly started looking at one another when the climb started to go up and up and then down and down making us sweat and pant. He said this was easy? What was Day 2 - the ominous day that Domingo had said was the worst - going to be like?

The great thing about Domingo was that if we wanted to stop, for water, to take a picture, or to simply catch our breath he did so happily. Rather than making us feel we were holding him up, he simply said that slow and steady was the way to do it and we had plenty of time. As we walked Domingo would point out the flora and fauna along the way, which, as it was summer here, was in full bloom. Orchids, flowering trees, cactuses with bright red blooms were all out with bees and butterflies flittering around in lazy summer peacefulness.

We didn't see any other trekkers for most of the day and arrived about lunch time at the side of rushing stream with the clearest coldest water that made your hands sting as you dipped your hands in them.

There were our porters, lying down on the grass relaxing. It was quite apparent they had been here for ages waiting our arrival. Around them was a complete camp set up, made from the various packs they had been carrying. It was the first time that the four of us had the opportunity to actually see what kind of encampment and service we were going to be provided during our trek. And it was incredible.

A full dining tent, complete with dining table, table cloth, stools to sit on and a full three course meal that started with sliced avocado with tomato salsa, followed by hot delicious soup, and then a huge plate grilled chicken, rice, vegetables washed down with coffee and coco leaf tea. We couldn't believe it. How the cook managed to trek for hours with all the gear on his back to then prepare a three course meal and then pack up to trek for a few more hours to repeat the whole process for dinner I don't know but he and the porters did it daily. Just incredible.

The afternoon passed with us being followed for a couple of hours by young children in uniform along the trail as they walked back from their school to their homes. A pack of horses overtook us with stacks of plastic piping strapped to their backs. It was for a new water pipeline to bring fresh water to a village in the Andes and this is the only way of getting gear in and out.

A little while later llamas passed us loaded down with packs of water, gatorade and sweets. This is the new supply of goods to restock the small stalls belonging to the Andean women along the way that the tourists - a.k.a. "us" - can buy along the way until the First Pass whereupon you have to rely on boiled or treated water from the local streams.

The weather throughout our first day was hot. We stripped down to tee-shirts and sweated our way through the hours commenting on how lovely we were going to smell by the end of the trek. Then, in our last hour of hiking we had, what we had been dreading would happen. Rain, heavy rain that despite ponchose and waterproof pants soaked us through and made us shiver with cold. We reached the campsite at Llulluchapampa (3,850m 12589ft) as dusk fell. As we changed into dry clothes the rain stopped and we all hoped that it would be the last rain we would see on this trek.

We were lucky. It WAS the last rain we saw for the four days of trekking, which we understand is a very lucky thing for this time of year. December is the rainy season and as reported by our friends Sid and Kerry who did the trek a week or so later, they got rained on for four days and got soaked including leaking tents. The most we had was the odd 1/2 hour of drizzle on Day 3.

DAY 2
There are no other words to describe our second day other than to say it was "BLOODY TOUGH". We had been warned by Domingo the night before that it would be a hard day and so we rose in the morning dreading what lay before us. Unlike some companies that did one big pass only on Day 2 and then camped in a valley, we would be doing two passes in one day and then camping on the other side of it all.

After the most incredible breakfast of fresh fruit, pancakes, scones, hot oatmeal, jams, chocolate, coffee and fresh coco leaf tea (all of which we somehow managed to eat!) we began walking at 6am. Uphill. And uphill some more. The First Pass was 4200m (13,776ft) which we reached at 10.00am. We celebrated by taking some photos (see attached), sharing a precious Coca Cola that we'd saved as there were no more places to buy drinks until the end of our trek. At this altitude of the pass the wind was biting and cold so we rapidly putting on layers of clothing, hats and scarves. Then it was another couple of hours downhill, with porters still overtaking us - how do they do it? - and reaching our lunch site in a small tropical like valley full of bursting flowers and rushing streams at 3500m (11,480ft).

As we stood up after lunch to begin climbing the Second Pass we knew already that our legs were going to feel it on Day 3 as we creaked and groaned putting our packs on. As usual, the porters started packing up the dining tent, cooking ware and packs laughing and joking as if they had had a simple jaunt in a park for the morning.

The Second Pass was 3950m (12,916ft) but it felt just as tough as our legs screamed in protest that they were being made to work so hard. On the way up we passed our first set of significant ruins - an old Inca military post with store rooms for food and providing an amazing view point of the intersecting valleys below and about 3 different Inca trails intersecting, all heading off towards other valleys and ruins in the mountains.

Archiologists estimate that there are still hundreds of undiscovered ruins, Inca trails and agricultural terraces hidden in the undergrowth of the Andes that would challenge the size of Machu Picchu and the other ruins that have been discovered.

The descent from the Second Pass down to our campsite was beautiful. We stopped at some more ruins, again on a hilltop overlooking a series of valleys and a river winding its way into the distance. Again there was evidence of a criss-crossing of Inca trails leading to and from the ruins of Machu Picchu and on to other Inca stopping points. Some of these trails are gradually being opened to trekkers in order to take some of the pressure off the main Inca trail (the one we walked) and prevent its destruction from the thousands of feet that walk along it every year.

Our campsite was at Chaquiqocha (3680m / 12,033ft) where we camped with a few other groups on the edge of a mountain. We sat at our foldout table on stools and watched as the sun set over a range of some of the most spectacular mountains we have ever seen. Stark white peaks and glaciers shone bright white turning to pink and purple as clouds and mist alternatively kept hiding and revealing peak after peak. We sat and drank cups of tea, ate popcorn and hot pastries filled with cheese or banana, and tried to soak up every moment of that evening so that we might carry the images with us for always.

Sleeping that night was cold. At this altitude, when the sun drops, it is freezing. Shattered from our long day we crawled into our sleeping bags and slept an unbroken sleep that only physical exhaustion can bring you.

DAY 3
Up at 07.00am we were allowed to sleep in this morning as we did the tough two passes on Day 2. We dress in fresh clothes, aware that despite the cleanliness of our clothes, we are well and truly beginning to stink. But no matter, this is what the trekking is all about and we down another amazing breakfast before we set off again on an easier (I use the term loosely as none of this trail is easy) day of hiking.

We were now ahead of most other trekkers so the path is clear and we spent six hours hiking in beautiful warm sunshine and the occasional bit of drizzle. Not enough to get us wet, just to cool us off and to create a rainbow over the valley. Our hike took us past more Inca ruins, called Inti Pata ("City in the Clouds") which when we walked through was shrouded in heavy cloud, adding to the sense of age and sybolism that the site embodies. We continued hiking down through the cloud cover and into the sunshine. We stopped at the curve of the cobbled Inca trail that rounds a mountain overlooking yet another valley. We sat in the sunshine and ate a morning snack of chocolate bars and water. Perfect.

A descent of a few hundred more feet and we arrived at some agricultural terraces. Far below we could see our campsite for the night. We sat on the terraces again, the sun even hotter than before amongst wild strawberries, pumpkins, flowers and long grasses that still grow on these terraces. The peace, serenity and silence of these ruins - barely seen by tourists unless you do the trek - is amazing. We said at the time that we couldn't imagine how Machu Picchu could top some of these sights despite its popularity.

We arrived at our final campsite for the night by the ruins of Winay Wayna, an old Inca settlement at 2700m (8829ft). Once again, our porters, running ahead of us, had set up camp and hot food ready and waiting for us. We had our first shower, a hot one, of the whole trek. It was bliss. After a short break we took another small walk to visit the Winay Wayna ruins. Again the sun was setting and more white peaks revealed themselves, including a famous mountain and glacier called Veronica, Dave's mum's name. So we toasted to Dave's mum, thousands of miles away from us and thought of our families getting ready for Christmas whilst we were in the middle of the Andes.

Winay Wayna is stunning. Temples, residences, agricultural terraces, aquaducts, fountains and stone pathways all evidence of what was once, a thriving settlement nestled below these spectacular peaks. That night we ate our last fantastic meal provided by the porters. It was also a time to thank them for their hard work which we did through a standard speech and tipping that our guide Domingo facilitated. Tomorrow morning would be another early rise and the porters would head back to Cuzco via a shortcut Inca trail to the train station whilst we would hike on to the Machu Picchu ruins with our guide.

DAY 4
We were up 5am in the dark using flashlights to pack our sleeping bags and things for the last time. Breakfast was once again loads of food, pancakes and washed down by copious amounts of coffee and coco leaf tea. There was a sense of excitement and anticipation throughout the camp knowing that in a few hours time we'd be at Machu Picchu. The long awaited day.

We passed through a checkpoint at 05:30am and for the first time there were loads of trekkers on the trail, all starting off at the same time. We all walked in single file along the trail that once again hugged cliffsides and plunged down on our right to the valley and river below. The morning was foggy and it hung beautifully suspended in the valley as the morning rays of sunshine started to break through showing hints of the peaks and heights that surrounded us.

We arrived at the Sun Gate just before 07.00am. The Sun Gate, set on a high pass above Machu Picchu is the official entrance to the site that pilgrims and visitors would come through 600+ years ago and it gets its name for the summer and winter soltices which shine through it's entrance. From here, on a clear day you can get a fantastic view of the site, but most mornings, like the one we had, it is shrouded in mist. We squinted into the morning mist hoping for a view of the magical site but it still lay hidden.

And so we began to descend down more cobbled steps to the site at 2,400m (7,872ft). As you walk through a stone table appears out of the mist. It is where offerings to the Sun God and the Machu Picchu site would be made. Every pilgrim arriving would be expected to bring an offering. Coco Leaves, grains, animal offerings, gold, silver, weavings - whatever each pilgrim could afford. Swirling mist made it seem really mystical.

For half an hour we walked down passing grazing llamas that appeared in the mist as we walked. Our first steps on the Machu Picchu ruins were on the upper agricultural terraces. Still the mist was heavy and so we passed through our last checkpoint, received our last stamp in our passport proving we had completed the trek.

We walked to the tourist centre cafe for a coffee. Unlike the other Inca ruins that we had passed on the way, Machu Picchu, whilst beautifully preserved, is a sight that caters for bus load upon bus load of tourists so it is here you will find cafes, shops, postcard and book stalls and the throngs of tourists that come, understandably, to see this amazing site.

By 08.00am the sun had risen and we re-entered the Machu Picchu ruins and gasped in amazement. What beauty. What stunning, stunning beauty. Where we thought it might be anti-climactic seeing Machu Picchu after such an amazing 4 day trek what we saw instead, actually took our breath away. Early morning mist swirled around the site but beneath it all Machu Picchu lay in all her glory.

There is a current world competition going, with results to be announced in July 2007, of the new list of "Seven Wonders of the World". It has been a contest going for several years by online vote and the input of experts across the world. Machu Picchu is still in the running along with the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China and it is little wonder why. The scale, the feat of engineering and its setting is truly awesome and worth every painful step we took to get there.

We had a tour of the site with Domingo learning about the various temples to the sun, the moon, nature, walking through plazas, old residential buildings. One of the most fascinating bits was in fact the builders workyard; a piles of boulders, some as tall as a house from where the stone masons cut and carved each Inca stone for the surrounding building. There, evidence of stone carving was still present, an indication amongst many others that Machu Picchu was never finished before the Spanish arrived in 1532, forcing the abandonment of the settlement and the fall into decay it subsequently went until its discovery in 1911.

After an hour or so, with the sun high and blue skies all around, Domingo left us to explore on our own and suckers for punishment, Sean, Kerry, Dave and I then climbed Wayna Picchu (2750m) which was a gruellling hour up to the high peak that you see in almost all postcards of Machu Picchu overshadowing the whole site. You might scoff at the fact that it is only an hour climb compared to the 4 days we had just done, but believe me - it is a steep hike, and with leg muscles screaming in protest at being made to climb another peak, reaching the summit was a real accomplishment.

For those of you that don't know there was an additional sense of accomplishment for Dave who is not a fan of heights and this climb challenges even the sturdiest heart. Once at the top you are next to more temples and terraces that were built by the Incas, and you can walk freely along the terraces that are only a couple of feet wide then plummeting down the cliff for 300 or so metres to the main Machu Picchu site below. As I said, this is not for the faint hearted. But wow, was it worth it.

We had, as I have previously said, been blessed with beautiful weather and reaching the summit of Wayna Picchu afforded even more spectacular 360 degree views of the surrounding mountains and plunging valleys which we were in the midst of. Additonally, we could see below us, the whole of Machu Picchu, which from this height was now set out in miniature. We could see the temples, terraces, plazas, residences all moulded so beautifully into the mountain. And best of all, we could see the form of the condor, a holy bird for the Incas, in the city's outline which was the shape in which the city was built (see pic - although condor shape is actually upside down).

It was now gone midday and we had time enough to descend the 1hr trail, buy a cold coke and catch the bus down to Aguas Calientes in order to eat lunch and catch the train back to Cuzco.

Back to

The steep old cobbled streets of the artists quarter in Cuzco
Cuzco, Peru

Cuzco

The train journey back to Cuzco from Agua Calientes, nowadays called Machu Picchu Town for the tourists, was wonderfully scenic. We sat with our new friends Sean and Kerry and found it rewarding enough to be seated on our bottoms for four hours without having to trek with sore legs, so the fantastic views of snow white mountain peaks, rushing rivers and Andean agricultural terraces from our train window were almost a bonus to the seats.

Towards 8:30pm, with our heads beginning to nod in exhaustion, we reached the outskirts of Cuzco at the top of a hill. To descend to the station the train driver then had to put his skills to the test by performing a series of switchbacks that would bring us down to city level.

As the train ground and screeched its brakes against the iron tracks trying to brace itself against gravity that would have otherwise pulled us rapidly down the hill, we had the chance to look inside the lamp-lit homes of Cuzco's poorer citizens who live by the railway tracks. One room mud brick and concrete buildings with corrugated iron roofs, folding tables, crosses on the walls, a small bar with rugged men drinking from bottles, children playing outside in puddles by the tracks with dogs running by, ragged sheets hanging at the windows acting as curtains, and women bringing in washing hanging on lines between reinforced iron bars of their buildings. A very different sight to the colonial and Inca architecture of the centre of the city.

Finally we pulled into the station. Weary, we stumbled into the street with our bags and hailed a taxi straight to our hotels where we freshened up, and despite our exhaustion, decided to meet for dinner at Jack's Cafe. All four of us were so exhausted that none of us were very hungry, so saying goodnight, we headed to bed. The feeling of lying in a clean bed that night is, I think, about as close as it is possible to get to ecstasy without moving.

We woke the next day with the best intentions of exploring the remaining archaeological areas of the city, but our creaking limbs told us another story and after a failed attempt at strolling through the town, we decided to limit ourselves to a few trips to the local cafes and the odd shopping detour for the next couple of days. We had a lovely last lunch overlooking the main Plaza de Armas square with Sean and Kerry, exchanged emails and said goodbye. They were off on a flight to Los Angeles and then New York to spend Xmas with Sean's family.

Puno & Lake Titicaca

We decided to remove some stress from the next section of our journey by booking through a tour agent for our trip from Cuzco to Puno and Lake Titicaca. Slightly more expensive than doing it on our own with local buses, but actually reassuringly so in many ways and so much hassle removed in the planning.

This excursion started with a tourist bus to Puno which incorporated several Inca and pre-Inca archaeological stops along the way. The first of these was the quaint little village of Andahuaylillas which boasted a colonial era church as its star attraction. Like most churches it was set on a rather picturesque square in which there were several elderly and huge trees, branches gracefully providing shade for the locals who tried to sell us crafts of woven textiles and silver jewellery.

The bus then moved on to the town of Raqchi where we were treated to some pre-Inca ruins situated on the remnants of an Inca Trail. Interestingly, the entire Inca Empire trail network, at its zenith, was over 30,000km of cobbled paths winding its way to Lake Titicaca in one direction and to the border with Ecuador in the other, criss-crossing the countryside and Andean mountains along the way. What a feat of engineering.

The ruins at Raqchi were in fact the remains of a main Inca temple, the lower half of which was constructed of large carved boulders typical of the Inca style, but the upper half had been finished with mud-brick. It is speculated that the Inca inhabitants of the ancient village hurriedly completed the buildings as foreign forces invaded hence the unusual combination of mud and stone for an Inca temple.

After lunch we stopped at a brief viewpoint at 4300m (14,107feet) amongst the mountains where we could see a glacier covered mountain and to its left, the bare dry slope of a mountain that had a glacier until a few years ago. The bare slope was an example of global warming's destructive touch laid bare for our cameras to record (see pic). Sobering to think the glacier that once was will never return.

From there it was to a museum in a desolate little town called Pukara, which was filled with stonework from some nearby archaeological sites, including the famous Pyramid of Pukara built into the mountain for offerings to the gods. The Pukara culture has been around since 300yrs B.C. The museum was interesting enough, but the small town was depressingly grey and had a sense of having been abandoned and forgotten. A small boy sat at the side of the road. His hands were showing signs of leprosy. Beside him an old woman sat her arms outstretched and crying for food. There is, amongst all this stunning scenery and architecture, immense poverty and suffering. A tourist on the bus handed the boy some sweets - probably somehow feeling better for having given something. But sweets are a pacifier, not a solution.

As we approached Puno we passed through the city of Juliaca. Lying close to the Bolivian border with Peru it has built up into the ugly brick, reinforced iron and concrete sprawl that it is today due to the illegal contraband (electronic goods, clothing) that crosses the border here for dissemination across the country. Neither of us could quite believe what we were seeing as again we trundled through a most ugly mess of desert coloured houses and factories.

Hopefully we will never have to return here as this was the most unpleasant looking, depressing, forlorn and downright dirty place that we have ever seen. Perhaps it didn't help that as we approached, a large thunder storm was rolling toward us spitting huge lightning forks every few seconds, but we found the sight of all of the single-level, sand coloured buildings utterly foreboding and post-apocalyptic. Ironically, it is also the location for Bolivia's famous university for architecture.

When we arrived in Puno in the early evening, with the lightning storm having accompanied us the whole way, we were tremendously relieved to find that at least this city on the shores of Lake Titicaca had a small amount of character, and that our hotel was of decent quality, close to the action.

In the pedestrianised heart of the city we found ourselves at home amongst wood-fired pizza oven joints and tourist bars aplenty, so we stocked up on decent food and some hot mulled wine before ambling back to our comfortable room. Each night we were there we would stop to buy water and the occasional sweet from a local Andean woman who would sit on the street with a box full of wares in front of her. She would shiver with cold and as we paid for our items I would tell her in Spanish to go and buy a "mate caliente" (hot tea) to warm herself. She got to know us and when we finally said goodbye on our last night she grasped my hand and blessed us goodbye wishing us a safe journey.

The islands of Uros and Taquile

As the sun rose on our last morning, so began the final chapter of our Peru odyssey. We were to sail out toward the centre of the immense 8500km sq Lake Titicaca which at 3827m (12,555ft) above sea level is famous for being the highest navigable lake in the world. On the lake we would visit the indigenous peoples of Uros, the floating reed islands.

The floating reed islands are fascinating. The people who live on them have lived this way for centuries and are actually descendants of the pre-Inca people, the Aymara. In fact, they still speak this ancient language. The islands are amazing to see, constructed entirely from dried reeds which have to be cut from the lake bed, matted and meshed together before being anchored back to the bottom of the lake. Once the platforms have been established, the houses are constructed from reeds also, as are the fishing boats with which the men provide for their families. As the reeds constantly are rotting, it is a daily task to lay more fresh reeds on the top of the island to keep it buoyant. The islands literally float, sometimes drifting great distances in storms, and to walk on them is like walking on your bed, a sponge mattress like consistency.

Its sad to think that these communities may not exist in a decade or so as the lure of the big city and western technologies leads to dwindling populations on the islands. Where once the population was 15,000 there are now only 2,000 inhabitants on various small islands.

We stayed for a couple of hours being shown the traditions and ways of life here, and of course being lulled into a tourist trap or two such as buying a woven tapestry. Somehow we didn't mind though, as these poor people clearly depend on this income for their livelihoods.

Just before we left, all the children from Uros treated us to a few songs and nursery rhymes in various languages which we found adorable. The little faces were filled with excitement as they chirped out their favourite ditty's and we all clapped especially to their rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle little Star".

Later we chugged across the lake to one of the permanent land islands, Isla de Taquile which is 1km wide by 6km long. Life here was similar in many ways to that of Uros, as it has remained unchanged by Western hands for hundreds of years and still has evidence of Inca built terraces and ruins. The buildings here, unlike Uros were permanent and made from mud bricks, corrugated metal and glass. With a population of only 2,000 they socialise and inter-marry with other villagers from the Puno peninsular who meet throughout the year for fiestas. It must be quite a sight to behold as each group has a different brightly coloured traditional dress for these big nights.

For us though, there was just enough time to have a bite of lunch, observe some traditional dancing, and have a quick wander into the Taquile Island town square two hundred metres up from shore on a hill overlooking Lake Titicaca before heading back across the lake to our hotel in Puno 2.5hrs away by boat.

Tomorrow we would wake up, pack and head off to the border with Bolivia. Goodnight Peru - we've had a great time.


*** NOTE:You have probably noticed that in this Peru blog I have put in alot of altitudes next to the towns. The reason for this is to give you a sense of simply how high above sea level we are and how the lie of the land is between each place as we went from Lima at sea level up higher to Arequipa, then higher to Cuzco and even higher to the Bolivian border.

So much of the land we are travelling through over the next few weeks is set in the Andean mountains, a truly breathless and wonderful experience.

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