I Hike the Inca Trail and Visit the Porter's Village

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My Inca trail experience started on the afternoon of the 6th at the offices of Wayki Trek, where we had our pre-hike group meeting to go over the logisitcs of the trip (not a very necessary task, since we'd all been over them individually) and to meet the group. The other hikers at the meeting were Liz and Lee, a couple from Yorkshire who've been travelling about South America for a couple months, and Kim, a med student from San Diego whose about 3 months away from becoming a full-fledged doctor. The two members of our party not in attendance were Len, a computer consultant from Vancouver (who grew up on a dairy farm in Alberta) and our guide, Amerigo. Len hadn't known about the meeting, and Amerigo hadn't arrived back in Cusco from a meeting with the porters. All six of us fell between 28 and 33 years old, which was nice considering that we had four days of hiking and camping ahead of us.

In Amerigo's stead, we had José, who accompanied Liz, Lee and I to the porter's village that night. Kim and Len hadn't learned of that option in time to join us. Staying in the porter's viallage is an option only Wayki Trek offers, and the main reason I chose the agency, as porters on the Inca trail are often treated horribly by they're employers and this company's attitude is a real exception....the SAE clubhouse in Cusco also houses a porters'rights group, and they recommended the visit (and the company) highly. Plus, it's not every day you can stay a village too small to have a hostal, or communicate with peasants who still speak the native Quechua language instead of Spanish.

After the meeting the four of us headed off to the village first by taxi, then in a big bus, then in a smaller bus. The entire trip, we were the only gringos in sight (a real rarity for any experience in or around Cusco). When we finally arrived in the village, José took us to the house where we'd be staying the night - in tents in the back yard, along with a chicken, some pigs, a bull, some sheep and a donkey. Luckily everything was tied, or penned, away from us (the bull being tied to a large boulder)..... although the ¨natural¨toilet was fenced in with the pigs. After we pitched the tents, we stored our packs in a shed and left with José to tour the village. It was a short tour, as the only public building we saw was a church, and it was closed for repairs. We met an 80 year old man near the church, who I believe was attracted by Liz's blonde hair, and who spoke a mixture of Quechua and Spanish they call Quechuañol (think spanglish). Lee's red parka also caught the attention of a few of the loose bulls we met around the village, leading to a few tense moments.

At dusk, we stopped by the local football (soccer) field for a pick-up game with some local teenagers, four against four. I was happy to volunteer to play goalie, since running around at 3700 meters is absolutely exhausting. I managed to surprise the locals, and myself, by blocking quite a few goal attempts, and was pronouncecd very good (for an American girl, I'm sure).

Once we'd been soundly beaten and could no longer breathe, José brought us to the house where we'd be having dinner. We passed through a courtyard and entered into a one-room kitch/living room/dining room, where an Indian woman, who was probably about our age, and her two daughters, were making our dinner. Her husband would be one of the porters for our trip. Free-range guinea pigs, called cuy, scampered around the room squealing and eating the greens they keep out for them.

Soon after our arrival, we were joined by her uncle, who had been working the potato harvest that day. The farmers drink chicha (a liquor they make from corn) all day during the harvests to dull the pain, and he was quite happy by the time he saw us....full of questions and information in Quechua. A lot of which José had trouble understanding (or didn't care to translate). As we finished eating, the room filled with porters and curious neighbors, as well as a singer and harp player for dancing. A bottle of some other homeade liquor was passed around (mixed with tea, thank goodness....it was strong and we were still adjusting to the altitude). Soon we were asked to dance. I danced first with the old uncle, then a nine year old boy, then a young porter. The local style was bouncy and raucous - the sort of thing you'd imagine in a pre-civil war parlor....although I can't say I know what it's supposed to look like, since they only danced with us, not each other...so each couple included someone without the first clue as to what they were doing. By the end, we were exhausted, and José walked us back to our tents. The village is in a valley flat and remote enough to afford a striking planetarium view of the night sky, with some constellations so low they seem to scrape the horizon. For the first time, I saw the Southern Cross and, as we were stargazing, a shooting star crossed the night sky. It was the perfect note to the end the evening. For the rest of the trip, stargazing remained our pre-dinner entertainment, but never inspiring awe in quite the same way.

In the morning, we were joined by Kim, Len and Amerigo for a breakfast for corn, potatoes and coca tea (setting my expectations low for food) before boarding the van to the trail. We stopped in Ollantaytambo for some fresh food supplies along the way (and once more to assist in reparing a ditch that momentarily blocked our way). After that, we were off....starting the hike with the easiest day. The Peruvian government began restricting access tot he trail a few years ago, so now you only get a maximum of 500 people starting the trail each day, at least half of whom are porters, so you see the same faces along with you every day. Pretty soon, the groups stagger into fast, normal and slow....with a fast group taking 2 or 3 hours to accomplish the same distance it take a normal group 5 and half hours to cover, and a slow group as many as twelve hours. We were, thankfully, a normal group (although I'm sure Len could have held his own in a faster contingent). Along the trip, Amerigo told us tales of past groups, noting that some of the slowest he'd had were a good ten years younger than we were.

Most hiker are between 20 and 30, which put us on the older end, although I did see the occasional 40 or 50 year old. With altitudes ranging from 2000 to 4200 meters, it can be hard on the heart, lungs, and knees (my ankles were hardest hit, but I think I managed to re-injure an old foot sprain). Luckily, I was in a group where everyone had a bad knee or ankle to worry about, so I only fell a little behind, never too much to keep us from reaching camp at the average pace, or stop us from taking the optional longer paths when they were woth it.

The trail scenery was some of the most gorgeous I've seen in my life, especially on the third day. We passed through so many ecosystems I lost count, my personal favorite being the cloud forest, where the shade and constant cool mist keep you refreshed as you trek along. Most of the ruins (before Macchu Picchu) are also seen on the third day, and you end in the one camp along the trek offering hot showers and cold beer. The food along the way was great, by the way. We were treated to breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner ever day, each meal more impressive than the last. It does feel a bit colonial at times, dining extravangantly, including tablecloth and servants along the route, but the whole porter system is a means of cajoling backpacker into supporting the local econmy - a main reason why Peru no longer allows tourist to hike without a guide and porters.

The fourth day was Macchu Picchu. Unfortunately, the system is set up so that not even the fastest groups reach the sun gate by sunrise. The control checkpoint everyone must pass through doesn't open until after 5, and it's at least an hour and a half hike. You'd think knowing you won't make it would take the pressure off, but it does feel like a race on the last day...not to beat the sun, but to beat the day tourists. After four days of hiking, with maybe one shower a piece, you're used to the other hundred or so tourists making the trip, even if you don't like all of them, but the day tourists are a new breed. Older, often more priveleged....and they certainly seem louder, slower, and less knowledgeable about the site (they haven't spent the past week immersed in the Incas as the backpacker has). And they tend to complain about the dirty, smelly kids and guides who've arrived before them. As a result, the backpackers leave as the day gets hotter and the tour buses multiply. I headed to Aguas Calientes, had lunch with my group, and stayed the night before heading back to Quito, happy for a soft bed, hot shower, and a place to wash my trail clothes.

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Comments

[anonymous]

Wow, Jes. Just amazing! Your stories and photos are great! Can't wait to hear more and see the photos that didn't make the blog. You are missed. I'm so happy you're having such an exciting journey... hope your time at the coast is as interesting and rewarding as the rest of your trip. Love you! - Mom