The scariest moment we’ve maybe ever had; surviving the journey back to Cuzco

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Tuesday 13th - Sunday 18th December 2022

The celebratory drink and lunch was soon consumed and we were left with a big decision to make with very little reliable information to hand. Our guide Ivan tried to offer a choice of plans with the information he had, but we could see even he (and all the other guides and staff swapping info with each other) didn’t really know for sure what the situation was. At this point, we either waited in Aguas Calientes in hope the train starts again later this afternoon (and, if the highly likely situation that it does not run then we end up staying a night and hoping again tomorrow) or we start walking the train track ourselves to the point where the road joins at km82 and we can get our minibus back into Cuzco. Maybe we misheard, misunderstood or maybe the original plan really was walking for only 3hours along the line, to the hydroelectric plant maybe, but we soon realised that this walk was going to be much longer than 3hours.

That’s right, feeling good, with energy, and on the understanding that if we stayed the political situation was looking to worsen, (and therefore the train would not be running soon and the roads would get blocked) we decided to start walking the track to catch our minibus back to Cuzco. Leaving the little town, we saw the other tourists looking as equally as unsure and the other Inca trail groups looking like they were staying put. We also knew our Italian friends were here somewhere, as we bumped into them at Machu Picchu and wondered what their plans would be. Hmmmm, should we be doing this?

Still, trusting Ivan and having one of the porters, Nicanor, still with us, (although feeling bad for him we had now taken all our belongings back so were carrying bigger packs-he did offer throughout to take some back!) we felt confident we could walk along the flat track for a few hours. Walking directly on the track, and swapping sides from time to time, it was very stoney and a definite work out on the feet. Of course the weather decided to turn too, and so it was a poncho on and poncho off situation the whole time we walked along. Nicanor was also setting a very quick pace, yet, trekking along, following the valley winding between some huge mountains and with the river rushing along beside us, it actually felt pretty good. We warmed into the quick pace, enjoyed Nicanor putting some music on and with brightly coloured birds whizzing pass every now and then, it felt so serene to be there.

Then we met Andy. A solo walker, having spent just a day trip at Machu Picchu, had been told he could walk the track and pick up a minibus at Km82, but, having now walked a couple hours and seeing no-one but locals, was left feeling very uncertain and a little scared. He said he was about to turn back but instead joined us to continue on, feeling safer in numbers. He had also picked up a stray dog back in Aguas Caliente, who had been following him all this way and would now continue to follow us all the way to the end; we ended up naming him Michael and decided he was a spirit dog, supporting us along this increasingly long track, even disappearing for an hour or so later but then magically appearing again in the darkness. Thanks Micheal.

Yep, 3hours in, and looking at the maps it dawned on us, that we were maybe only half way to Km82. Having already passed the hydroelectric, and with Ivan being very clear and focused (but not necessarily giving all the info now, as he disappeared on and off on his phone) we accepted that we were already on this journey and just had to go with it. We began to notice debris on the track, from wooden sticks to big boulders and understood the train was definitely not going to be running any time soon. Having dropped onto a side track, we then passed a big group of Columbians on the main track, who looked tired and pretty desperate. Paul dropped his bag and ran back to them, (Ivan and Nicanor stating he was ready for a marathon!) to find out they had left at 11am! A whole 2hours before us and had run out of water and food. Paul gave them some (as we had stocked up at a local house /side shop only known because we had Ivan and Nicanor), and then we continued on.

Still under the impression we could get picked up at km82, we blissfully continued to enjoy winding on and off the rail track, up and down some side paths, spotting birds and passing more Inca sites. The light faded and then switched off almost within an instant, and we found ourselves trekking (still at a quick pace!) with headlights on; so many stars, shooting stars, all sparkling high above us…absolutely mesmerising…and just enough to keep morale high enough, even when the energy was now fading, to get us to Km82. Now 8pm and we had been walking, the fastest I have ever walked, with few stops, for 7hours straight (baring in mind, we were up at 3:30am this morning to complete the last short section to Machu Picchu-looking at that photo felt so long ago already!) and had made it to km82! Back where the Inca trail starts. We’d done a full loop!

So where was the minibus? We had noted Ivan had been increasingly on his phone, but it was only now he had the confirmation, that the minibus was unable to get to km82, due to road blocks. The protesters and strikers had already started and meant our minibus could not get to us. So, Ivan calmly and confidently told us we’d have to walk some more. I’m not sure if his time estimates were off on purpose or not, but his 40min walk turned into just over an hour; all slightly uphill, on flat tarmac it was easier on the feet, but man we were feeling tired now. Reaching a manned blockade, our heart rate’s spiked as Ivan told us to turn our headlights off and walk quickly together. Feeling tired, uncertain and anxious, in the pitch black, passing this small group of men, sat round burning tyres, with rocks and debris all over the road, is maybe the scariest thing we’ve ever done. They spoke to Ivan as we passed but seemed to accept we were just walkers as we made a sharp turn right, climbed through some wire fencing, crossed a bridge and bundled into a small van on a dirt roadside.

Sitting nervously in silence, our driver whizzed us along the dirt back streets for half an hour to Ollytantambo; the next small town and known tourist stop with a key Inca site (one we had visited not so long ago on our sacred valley tour and where we had peacefully been just a few days previous eating breakfast with Ivan before starting the Inca trail!) Crazy how different it now felt, as we got out of this van at 10pm, still at least two hours out of Cuzco, not knowing what was next. Later we learnt, it was here that we may have had to stop, as whilst we had been endlessly trekking, Ivan and the tour guide owner Andres (in the background of Cuzco) had been continuously assessing and reassessing the situation, changing and planning as they could.

All taxi drivers were refusing to transport by this point, as road blocks had increased at a surprising speed and Andres later told us he did not think we’d get out of there. However, Ivan had managed to arrange another van with the help of a porters friend, and we were soon buckling up again. Nicanor stayed here though, as like many of the porters, lived nearby. Just us, Andy and Ivan now, with a thankfully very skilful and confident driver, as he rallied us along dirt roads, and paved roads with so much debris from wood, cardboard, rocks and even sidewalled us around a huge tree across the road at one point. Relaxing enough to think this was the last bus to Cuzco, I drifted in and out of a dazed sleep, but still saw the driver pay off one manned blockade, and saw the driver and Ivan rerouting when another manned blockade refused to let us pass. This resulted in us driving back on dirt roads and even through shallow rivers.

Now around midnight, and we hit another big manned blockade with vehicles all parked along the side. No way through. With Cuzco in sight just below, Ivan turned and without any question, told us we’d need to walk some more, for another hour, down pass this series of blockades. With no other option, we did just that. Gravity on our side this time, and having had a couple hours rest, we kept up with Ivan, as we stomped down the streets, pass locals walking around, a few police, so much debris and many small fires. Turning down some steps, we then saw our actual minibus! And a very stressed yet relieved looking Andres. Quickly hopping on, Andres drove round the houses for the last half hour, dropping a very grateful Andy off before then dropping us back at our hostel. He explained the situation had changed so unusually quickly and that in Cuzco the streets were blocked so fast with protesters attacking all private companies shops and vehicles. He wasn’t going to be able to make it home that night now, so after ensuring Ivan was back, planned on using a mates garage to hide his van and sleep inside it!

It was now around 2am, 23hours since waking excitedly that morning and being astounded by the magic of Machu Picchu, and 14hours since that magic gave way to uncertainty, and we had finally made it back to our hostel, back in Cuzco. We survived!

The protesters and strikers ramped up over the following two days, with so many more roads blocked, airports shut and the Incarailway definitely not operating; leaving 800 tourists standard in the small town of Aguas Caliente (including our Italian friends!) We may have made it out of there, but we were equally as stuck in Cuzco with no way in or out. Pushing our Amazon tour back, we stayed put, venturing out into the streets for food (so many good cafes and restaurants! We know because we tried a lot!) and some more exploring when protests had quietened a little and things were opening again. We even bumped into a couple we had met before in Arequipa so caught up over lunch.

We may have a scary story and have had to spend longer in Cuzco than planned, but man are we feeling lucky and in a fortunate position to be able to relax and ride this out; unlike many other tourists who had things booked and lost lots of money or had just arrived and were looking to leave asap without having done the things they’d dreamt of (like the couple we knew). Worse still, are the locals who rely on the tourists to make their money, like Andres and Ivan and all the porters who had just given us an unforgettable experience and were also left waiting and not knowing.

Five days later and still in Cuzco, but with things calmer, our Italian friends were 2 of the first 200 that made it out of Machu Picchu on an evacuation train. Meeting them at the hotel for breaky, it was a fun reunion, and we then got to watch the football final together, with many others both locals and tourists, back in the pub we’d been sat together in before the trail. Go Argentina! Hopefully, things won’t get worse, and we can still make it across to Puerto Maldonado soon, for our next adventure in the Amazon.

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