Stepping up to Inca heights

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After flying in to the Peruvian capital of Lima from Sao Paulo, I was kind of expecting a bit of a culture shock, a real sense of arriving in a poor, third world country. This didn´t happen, not least because my base in Lima was the district of Miraflores. Miraflores is so Americanised that I had to remind myself now and again that I was not in the U.S. My hostel was mere yards from a Starbucks, McDonalds, TGI Fridays and a huge cinema. All very modern and civilised, but not exactly what I had come to Peru for.

Downtown Lima was much more like it - plenty of hassle from the locals doing their best to prise money from me, and lots of smog and general grubbiness. There aren´t too much attractions to keep the traveller around for long, although the San Francisco church is certainly worth a visit. Underneath the church lie catacombes, where hundreds of human bones remain clustered, some rather decoratively! The amount of police around the downtown area was quite extraordinary. One female police officer insisted on escorting me around for a while, which I found quite annoying.

I went on a day trip with my hostel to explore some of the sights around the Lima area. Near the city there is a natural bridge of rock protruding out from the coast. The bridge is famous for the suicide of a monk, apparently depressed for not being able to wed his lover. Incredibly, a local elderly man imitates the dead monk several times a day by jumping off the bridge into the sea below - the water is actually quite shallow there, meaning that he has to perform a perfectly executed belly flop each time he does it. Sheer craziness. After the excitement of the mad monk, we visited various archaelogical sites including Pachamac, a complex of palaces and temples, which would have been a lot more impressive had they not all been largely reduced to rubble.

On my return from the trip I wandered into the main square and found lots of people crowding around the entrance to the Palace, which was heavily guarded with soldiers. A local girl, Nancy, came up to me and explained that the reason for the interest was that the President was about to come out. Sure enough, soon afterwards the President emerged, gave a few salutes and then went off in his car. While waiting for the President I ignored Nancy completely. I guess I was very rude. But the fact is that the vast majority of the locals who start talking to you simply want your cash, so it is difficult to know where to place your trust. After hanging around with Nancy for a while, I started to realise that I was wrong and that she was just being friendly. Nancy is a dancer and I ended up being given a lengthy salsa lesson.

After a few days in Lima I took a flight east to the city of Cusco. Cusco is a very attractive place, with Inca culture at its core. The Incas may only have ruled Peru between the 14th and 15th centuries, but their culture dominates modern day Peruvian tourism. It is impossible to come to Peru and escape Incan culture. Incan tourism is the life and blood of Cusco and, thanks to having South America´s premier tourist destination in its vicinity - Machu Picchu - it can feel safe in the knowledge that the tourists will keep flocking to the city in its droves. The city itself, though, is worth a visit on its own. The Inca architecture - characterised by large stones perfectly put together, almost like a jigsaw - is very much in evidence. The Spanish had the good sense to use the Inca stonework as the base for their colonial buildings.

I arrived in Cusco with a heavy cold and before long I was suffering with altitude sickness as well. The city is over 3,200 metres above sea level and no number of the recommended coca teas was helping me very much. And then, as if I wasn´t feeling bad enough, I ate something bad and got food poisoning. Lovely, just lovely. The timing wasn´t great as I was due to begin the 4 day Inca trail on Monday 5th March. I had to make a decision on the Sunday, and I just wasn´t feeling well enough, so had to cancel. As my enthusiasm remained undiminished, I re-booked for the Saturday.

The Tuesday was my birthday and thankfully I was feeling well enough to celebrate. At midnight the night before, the whole hostel bar sang 'happy birthday' to me, even though I'd hardly met any of them - kind of weird, but also kind of nice. I joined a large group out on the town that night and had my first experience of Cusco clubbing. As we approached the clubs, which are mostly clustered together, masses of touts rushed up to us and did their utmost to lure us into their respective establishments. Their efforts went as far as grabbing hold of some people's arms and physically dragging them in! Once safely inside, notwithstanding a bruise or two, you then have to avoid being abused further by the bar staff, who do their level best to rip you off. While it may not sound like it, it was all good fun really. Once my hangover had dissipated somewhat, I went on an afternoon trip around some of the Inca sites in the Cusco area. The most impressive of these was Sacsayhuaman (pronounced 'sexy woman'), an Inca fort built using absolutely huge stones.

The delay caused by my food poisoning was a little frustrating, but Cusco isn't the worse place to be stuck. It may be low season, but fewer tourists mean greater hassle from the locals. In my case, I just could not escape the shoe shiners. I mean, I know my shoes aren´t the smartest, but that doesn´t mean I want them shined. The shoe shiners, however, seemed to spot the scruffy shoes a mile off and made me their number 1 target. Despite trying to keep a careful lookout for any lads with polish in their hands, I couldn´t walk anywhere without one of them pouncing on me. And believe me, they don´t take "no" for an answer. To be fair, most of the attention was fairly good-natured and some of them liked joking around. And, to put the record straight, I have found the Peruvians to be decent, happy people. I just wish they'd stop poisoning me.

Before my Inca trek finally got under way, I fitted in a day trip to the Sacred Valley. Some of the Inca sites on show on this trip were superb, not least the spectacularly located Pisac ruins and the imposing, huge fortress at Ollantaytambo.

After all the waiting around, it was a relief to begin the Inca Trail. I was fortunate enough to be in a good group of 16 people - a mix of Americans, Aussies, Swedes and Japanese. Most of us were around the same age - it seems the younger backpackers prefer to cheat by taking the lazy option (the train) to Machu Picchu. Our guide was an affable chap called Lobo, although I can't say I saw much of him during the trek. In fact, I'm not sure that any of us saw him much, as he was walking alone half the time! We had porters to carry our tents, sleeping bags, spare clothes etc, and their work-rate was unbelievable. Despite carrying huge loads on their backs, they managed to move with great efficiency. As well as the porters, my bamboo stick (christened Trevor, and still accompanies me on my travels!) was a god-send in helping me through the trek. The chef was a help too in serving up excellent meals - the soups were particularly impressive. The tents weren't the most comfortable (the mattresses were of the super-thin variety) but I was so knackered after each day's trekking that I slept well each night.

The trekking itself varied from easy to hard going. It involved a lot of stepping up and down and, while you don't have to be super-fit, the altitude certainly makes the lungs work hard. As I'd been in Cusco for a good while, I was well acclimatized and didn't find the trek too taxing. The first day was reasonably simple, involving a mostly gentle 6 hours of hiking. However, we had been well-informed that day 2 was going to be no stroll in the park. It started off with a steady climb of about 1 and a half hours through the rainforest to the meeting point, where some llamas lurked nearby. Then we had to climb for another 1 and a half hours or so up the very steep 'Dead Woman's Pass'. The Dead Woman's Pass is so named because the peak resembles a nipple, believe it or not. It is the highest point on the trail, at 4,200 metres. From the nipple, the remainder of the day was mostly downhill, which was actually just as (if not more) painful as going up.

On day 3, for the third consecutive day, we had fine weather. This allowed for some excellent views of the valleys and mountains. The third day was a lot easier than the second, although it wasn't quite as straightforward as Lobo had led us to believe. We were all eager to use the facilities at the campsite on day 3 - it was much more civilised than the others, with hot showers and even a restaurant serving beer!

It was a very early start for the finale on day 4 - a 4am get-up (ouch) and a 4.30am start. The idea was to get to Machu Picchu, the world-famous 'Lost City of the Incas', for sunrise - as futile exercises go, this took some beating, for it was pouring with rain and visibility was zero. We had to stand around at the checkpoint (which at least had some shelter) for a while until it opened at 5.30am. All huddled in the dark, this was rather surreal. When the checkpoint officer arrived at long last to stamp our tickets, everyone seemed to be on a mission to stamp out their frustration at the weather on the trail, marching towards the Sun Gate. It must have been around 6.30am when we arrived at the Sun Gate, which is a momentous landmark for Inca trail trekkers. After all your hard work of getting there, this is the moment when you see before you the glorious sight of your goal - the remarkable sight of Machu Picchu. And my own experience? Couldn´t see a bloody thing. As Lobo put it, on this day it was "Foggy Gate". On reaching the Sun Gate I looked into the fog for a few seconds and wondered what on earth I´d done to upset the Sun God. Certainly, if there was a Sun God, then it was the Fog God who was reigning supreme now. From Foggy Gate we had to continue walking downhill (which actually hurt more than going up) to get up close to the famous ´Lost City of the Incas´ (believe me, we had to get up close to see a damn thing).

After standing around straining the eyes for a while, the Fog God seemed to have some mercy, and not before time. The skies cleared sufficiently for a fairly decent view of Machu Picchu. By this time I was so cold and wet (my waterproofs, incidentally, were not waterproof - watch out you pathetic manufacturers, I might sue!), that I just wanted some warmth and shelter. Well, I got the latter, but I had to sit shivering for a good while - the porters had my other clothes and they had already fled. I began to feel better once our 2 hour tour of Machu Picchu got under way. Lobo led us around the most important sights, and impressive they certainly were.

From Machu Picchu I took a bus to the town of Aguas Calientes and took the opportunity to save my aching muscles in the hot springs. Then we all boarded the train back to Cusco. Being British, I am more than used to dodgy, slow train rides, but this journey was particularly painful. After 4 hours creeking along the track, the train finally arrived in Cusco... but it must have been another hour or so before the train actually pulled in at the station. Zig-zagging downhill and changing tracks about a billion times, the train seemed to be going nowhere fast. Maybe this was perfectly normal, but judging from the expressions of the locals (dogs included), I wouldn't bet on it. We were all extremely relieved to get off the train and into the waiting minibus, which was to escort us back to our respective accommodations. We couldn't wait to get into hot showers and generally recuperate. Imagine our displeasure, then, when the minibus broke down. More chaos ensued, before finally we made it back to the hostel. Later on, the trip was rounded off with one final big night out in the Cusco bars.

After a mere few hours sleep, Katja and I checked out of the hostel and took a taxi to the bus station to meet up with the other Aussies. And off we went to the town of Puno, on the banks of Lake Titicaca, from where I will pick up the story next time.

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Photos

The dead woman
check out the nipple and face!

The fog clears at Machu Picchu
(well, slightly)