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Veronica
Looking backwards on day onePre-dawn, Plaza de Armas, Cusco. Ominously rumbling stomach. Some nervous anticipation to go with it.
This was it. I was off on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu after a seemingly endless process of planning and saving. Although uncomfortable, I consoled myself that I was not the worst affected member of our group as a really nice English girl, Kath, was white as a sheet and very sick with food poisoning. She had bravely decided to attempt the four-day hike with the hope of recovery along the way. Her boyfriend, Ian, looked on nervously - worrying that he was responsible for talking her into it.
This put things in perspective for me as I boarded the bus with my group. I told myself again that, if I wasn´t sick to the point of charging off to the bathroom every 30 minutes, I should count my blessings and get on with it.
I struck a bit of luck with my group, we were only ten where the norm is sixteen. This could only be a good thing as far as I was concerned. Easier to get to know each other and less lagging and regrouping on the trail. It
Bag complex
Trying to make myself feel better about bringing my big bag after swearing not to. turned out that it was a bit of a Maple Leaf expedition. By some odd coincidence, half of our group were Canadian, although they were all from different parts with very different backgrounds due to the diversity of the country.
The remainder of the bunch was; Luke and Raj, two friendly young Brits who I had met at the trip-briefing, Ian (Scotland), Kath (England), and myself. The only Australian! (Everyone comments on how many Australians are traveling in South America).
We were a friendly, chatty bunch and it only took half a day for me to relax in the knowledge that I wouldn´t be off on this dream-trip with a bunch of annoying knobs.
Our bus took a winding climbing route out of Cusco to reveal a flat highland of rich agricultural plains bursting with colour and being busily attended to. Even this early-on, the views were beautiful. The neatly arranged crops changed colour as we cruised past, like a Eucalyptus changes colour from green to white with a gust of wind. Odd curly trees, like nothing I have ever seen, lined the road. They looked like something dreamed up for a Dr Suess book. Occasionally we
Climb! Climb!
Our group battles the stairs of Day Two. That is Ian hiding behind the tree. could catch a glimpse of a royal blue locomotive snaking along behind us - the train to Aguas Calientes. I wondered if Roxy was on it and if we would glance up to see each other at one of the many points where the road ran alongside.
Suddenly we were being bundled out of the bus at a staging point with dozens of other hikers, sleeping mats being thrust at us, local women pressing through the crowd and parroting each other´s prices through piles of wide-brimmed hats clutched to their chest.
It was a rush of sunscreen, water, final checks on bag straps and inventive suggestions for how to attach the new items that we were carrying. Our guide, Jilbert (“hilverr”) waved us onwards and we were off across the uneven stones of the train tracks and towards the fast and noisy Urubamba river.
We immediately hit a bottleneck of colourful backpacks at the entrance to the national park. The area is tightly controlled to avoid overcrowding on the trail and the tradeoff for this delay is that you get a cool Machu Picchu passport stamp. (I was probably more enthusiastic than most after the disappointment
The Four Amigos - Dead Woman´s Pass
The photo didn´t turn out but I still like it. of missing out on a stamp for my one-day Brazilian border crossing). Another benefit is that, on clearance, you get a few moments alone on the dramatically swaying bridge slung across the river, a romantic moment of contemplation to make up for the sausage-factory feeling a few seconds prior. Off we went, uphill, with the standard jokes along the lines of: “Is it much further?” setting the tone.
Day One was a gentle, picturesque introduction to the trail. It is nothing more than a dirt track connecting villages at this point but you are quickly amongst the green Andes with soaring snow-capped peaks moving in and out of view. There was a lot of stopping and staring in appreciation which seemed funny/naive later as we came upon more and more impressive landscapes.
It was pleasant afternoon of perfect cool-but-sunny weather, just as requested, and chats along the way. A few sections of steep curling “stairways” were a taste of things to come, but as we straggled into the stunning views of camp on Night One noone was much worse-for-wear (except Kath who was understandably weak from her illness).
There was a funny moment when Jilbert did the tent
Made it to the top - Dead Woman´s Pass
Waiting for the film crew before my Piece To Camera allocations. “Normal couples get preference”. This saw the senior members of our expedition into the first tent, Dennis and Sophie, a warm French-Canadian couple. Then on to sisters Emeline and Victoria, a pair of experienced Canadian hikers who also met the “normal” requirement and so on until myself and yet another Canadian, Brent, who were apparently The Odd Couple.
As we settled in for the night, I was again doubled over with stomach cramping, a pattern that would continue for most of the trip. Strangely, I was fine as soon as we got walking in the morning and the memories of an uncomfortable night evaporated quickly on the high sunny path. Around us there were rumours of people in other groups having to turn around and head all the way back to Urubamba after being struck down with altitude sickness. As we headed for the killer climb of Day Two I considered myself “one of the lucky ones”.
Day of the Stairmaster!
Daaamn. If I never see another step in my life, it will be too soon. This was a real test for our group, five hours uphill. Despite being beautiful and constantly changing, the path just
Up in search of "The Nipple"
Striking a pose about five minutes before getting scared and coming back. I made it to the top of this bit, but not to the summit... went up and up and up. We were heading for the highest point of the trek, Dead Woman´s pass, 13,779 feet above sea level. Despite my weeks in the high altitude of Bolivia, oxygen was still proving elusive and there were many stops where we all looked at each other and laughed at how much we were struggling.
At a certain point the trail opens up so you can see pass and the climb ahead, the people who had already arrived at the top were little dots moving along the ridge and this view did nothing to speed our progress. As we toiled away, left after right, a group of us moved to the front to form what would be a constant foursome for the rest of the trail. When we finally reached the pass, Luke, Raj, Brent and myself posed for pictures and congratulated ourselves. We plonked onto the nearest pile of rocks to take in the view of the valley below and the descent awaiting us just over the other side.
As we waited for the rest of our group, against my better judgement, I decided to attempt the steep peak of the pass which sat
Dead Woman´s Pass
It´s funny where you can find happiness... just to our right. Jilbert had announced our goal that morning as “The Nipple”, a point on the breast-shaped summit adjacent to the pass and it seemed wrong to get here without going a little bit higher to the summit.
I was one of only five to embark on this foolishness, out of one hundred or so that came over the pass in the hour that we were there. The climb was steep to the point of putting your foot where your fingers had just been and was composed of slippery mud, dripping rocks and long grass. Three very lightly dressed people had already disappeared into the thick mist above me so I figured I could do it too… I was caught up in the mood that comes and goes over the course of this trip which whispers to me: “It´s
right there and you´re not going be here again any time soon”.
As I clutched at the sharp ridge that marked the half-way point and peered over the back of the spine, I had a strong moment of clarity mixed with a quick shot of vertigo. That was as far as I was going, even if a girl
Taking a break - Day 2
Emeline, Victoria, Brent (sorry!), Me, Raj, Luke in Short Shorts had made it further.
To continue involved a risky balancing act which might have been straightforward in normal weather but seemed to border on stupidity in a gusting bitter wind and muddy boots. I took a moment to swallow my pride and acknowledge the sympathetic laughter of my group far below and began the far more difficult descent, mostly on my butt.
Over the top and down into the next valley. This was the morning in reverse, an endless set of uneven stairs snaking down the mountain. Picture-perfect mountain streams skipped alongside and across our path and hummingbirds zipped about, but much of the focus was on the crunch crunch crunch of my feet as I tried to focus on spreading the shock-absorbtion evenly and not twisting anything by being lazy. Again, our little group encouraged each other down the mountain trail and various members compared the inconvenience of heel-blisters to uncontrollably shaking legs.
Camp Two was at least twice as impressive as Camp One, our company seemingly securing one of the best sites once again. Brent and I spent an hour just sitting at the entrance to our tent watching the massive peaks
My Wish Rock
You had to carry a rock up to a certain point and make a wish. Very funny section of the trail. appear and disappear in the shifting clouds, a bit of iPod shuffle adding some atmosphere.
As darkness descended, my odd Werewolf illness returned but it couldn´t distract me from an indescribably beautiful moonrise over a nearby peak. As it inched up behind the mountain, the whole silhouette was flashing and glowing in response, the whole landscape shifting by the second. Jaw dropping.
With the arrival of this strong illumination, Dennis, Ian and myself set off for an exploration of the next day´s trail. Standing out on that ancient path in the moonlight staring out at a jagged ridge of snowcaps is not something that I will forget in a hurry.
After the welcome surprise of a heavy sleep I was rejuvenated for the third day and the arrival of a light afternoon rain did nothing to bring me down. The landscape was again changed as all of the views disappeared and we were left to guess at what lay in the thick fog beyond the edge of the trail. (The answer was occasionally revealed as a series of gaping voids that you wouldn´t want to step off into).
The arrival of the rain was perfectly timed
Down came the rain
All poncho-ed up except Ian the mad Scot (foreground). That red mini-dude is Alex, our second guide.
as we entered the cloud forest and we were wrapped up in a beautiful quiet. Spread out in pairs and encountering very few people on the trail, we were left to marvel at the amazing plant life hanging over us and reaching out on all sides. An occasional frog or bird was the only sound to penetrate the cotton-wool white around us.
The light rain disappeared before we reached camp and that was the last we saw of it. (I consider that I had perfect weather for the five days and was again amazed at my luck. The trip before us had three straight days of rain).
Camp Three was not a disappointment after the vistas of the other two. Our tent stared out at a line of densely forested peaks that stretched all of the way down to the valley-floor where a tiny train wound along the river. After not being encouraged to visit by our guides (annoyed) we finally caught on that there was an amazing Inca site nearby and interrupted our beers for the quick trip to Wiñaywayna. We were being defeated by the light but could still see that the site was incredible. Impossibly
steep agricultural terraces dropped away at our feet and the view from these ledges was another stunning moon-and-mountain-peak treat. As we explored the remains of a temple and the aqueducts we were grumbling that we hadn´t been shown this earlier but it didn´t take away from the buzz of the site.
After another huge meal, something our agency prided themselves on, and a presentation to the porters where I was somehow elected/forced spokesperson, it was off to bed early for the 5am start of day four.
The plan was to walk the last 45 minutes of the trail in the dark to see the sunrise but the air of competition got to us and our established foursome raced headlong into the dim light as if we were trying to win something. It was a gruelling section as we had no idea how far it was and had set off at top speed, not allowing ourselves to slow down even to shed clothing, this was done on the fly as we awkwardly handed off bouncing bags to each other while maintaining the pace.
It was all very silly considering the drop waiting for us just over the edge
but it was great fun and a huge adrenaline rush. After a final, almost vertical, staircase we came around a corner and there it was. Completely spent, unable to talk and covered in sweat - I had reached the Sun Gate and just below lay Macchu Picchu.
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