House of the Rising Sun

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Uca Pacha - The Snake - The Underworld

At the base of the group of mountains that guard the ancient city of Machu Picchu is the small town of Aguas Calientes.

The most direct way to get there from the city of Cuzco is by train. The word "direct" implies simplicity, but this is hardly the case. The area around Machu Picchu is known as the Sacred Valley - a rugged and elusive part of the Andes. In fact, the region is so isolated that the Spanish conquistadores never found Machu Picchu. It was not discovered by the Western world until 1911.

For the train to reach Aguas Calientes, it must first climb a steep mountain side before leveling off and making its way across a landscape of green hills and river. It does this by traveling forwards and then backwards up a series of railroad switchbacks before reaching the town of Ollantaytambo.

Like a long serpent, it zigzags up for a few hours. The passengers are then treated to a breathtaking world of trees, mountains, and rushing water before arriving in Aguas Calientes.

The sole purpose for the existence of this small town is to provide a base for getting up to the ruins of Machu Picchu. In fact, the name of Aguas Calientes has technically been changed to Machupicchu Pueblo in order to alleviate tourist confusion about where to go. However, people in the know still call it Aguas Calientes - probably to avoid similar confusion.

The town itself is beautifully located between a handful of tall, slender, thimble-shaped Andean mountains. It is a funky little place loaded with hostels, hotels, and restaurants. The town is split in two by the Urubamba river which can be crossed by a few foot bridges.

A lot of people complain that Aguas Calientes is an excessively touristy place - and it is. But I like it. I imagine it is the perfect place to celebrate and have some drinks after finishing the long and arduous Inca Trail trek. And it certainly works as a place to have some good food and rest before getting an early start to explore the ruins.

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By 5:30, I've dragged myself out of bed and am standing at the tourist office on the other side of the river. This is where one catches the bus that runs up the mountain to the ruins. There must be at least half a dozen of these buses that make the roundtrip from sunrise to sunset - carrying the few thousand tourists that visit the site each day.

Fortunately, many of these visitors come on day trips from Cuzco. So catching one of the first few buses early in the morning promises the best chance to enjoy the ruins without too much of a crowd.

But even at 5:30, there are at least forty people in front of me in line. I make it onto the second bus - jammed in with tourists from literally every corner of the planet.

Continuing in the same fashion as the train, the bus churns its way back and forth up the side of the mountain. Each level affords an even more celestial view of the Sacred Valley.

Kay Pacha - The Puma - Earth

By the time the bus reaches the last few turns of the narrow dirt road, the view is gone. We have entered a thick, white fog through which nothing can be seen.

The bus stops at the entrance of the park and everyone gets off. We stand in line and wait for the main gate to open at 6:00.

Once inside, everyone walks up some steps that eventually lead to a long stretch of now familiar stepped terraces. The vertical face of each terrace is fortified by white stones. They extend off into the equally white fog and disappear.

From this landing, there are essentially three options. Turning to the left leads to the Sun Gate - the original entry point to Machu Picchu. Going straight takes you up a few more terraces to a trail for climbing Mount Machu Picchu - the tallest peak in the area. To the right and around the bend lies the city of Machu Picchu.

I watch most of the tourists head to the right and vanish into the early morning fog.

The city of Machu Picchu is just there around the corner. I've waited years to see it, and it is just 35 seconds away.

The current theory is that it was a sort of resort for wealthy and elite Incas. At any time, there were about 750 people living here.

I look on to where the tourists have disappeared for several moments. It is right there.

I look back to the stairs in front of me that lead up to Mount Machu Picchu. Evidently, hundreds of visitors see the ruins every day before the sun has fully risen. But how many have their first look from atop this mountain?

I take the stairs.

The stone steps lead as far as to the top-level terrace and give way to a rugged, but clean trail that winds around the side of the mountain. Parts of it are steep, but I can tell that great effort is made to clear the excess of loose rocks and pebbles. This makes for very stable climbing. I make good time and start to feel that I am redeeming a bit of my earlier performance in Sorata and Colca.

Well I say that. With only ten feet of visibility through the thick cotton fog hanging in the air, I have no idea how far it is to the top of this mountain. It might take an hour. It might take five. I didn't research it ahead of time.

I keep on.

About an hour in, I stop at a small landing and take a seat on a boulder for some water and bread from my pack. Time for breakfast.

I hear steps below me on the trail. After a few seconds, the silhouette of a man materializes in the fog and then comes into view - a guy of about 40. He stops and nods in greeting.

"Hola. Buenos dias."
"Good morning," I reply. You can always peg an Australian accent - even in Spanish.
"On your way up or down?" he asks.
"Up."
"Seen anyone else on the trail?"
"Not a one. You're the first I've seen since I left the entrance."
Still out of breath, he puts his hands on his hips and looks out into the fog at nothing. "I'm starting to wonder if this actually goes anywhere or if we're even supposed to be here."
"Well if I'm not mistaken, it leads to the peak that looks over the valley. Should be a good view of the ruins."
"Ah, so you'll keep on?"
"Oh yeah. I'm sure it's not that much further," I lie. I have no idea. "Should be one hell of a view." I am sure of this.
"Ok, well," he smiles. "Guess I'll see you somewhere up there."
"Count on it."

The Aussie continues to climb and I sit and rest for another ten minutes.

Higher up, things become a bit rougher. The trail narrows in places and becomes slippery with loose dirt and stones. But it isn't as bad as the previous two treks. Moreover, my tactile senses and reflexes have done what they always do - they have adapted. Muscle memory has learned all the different patterns of slipping and falling and devised complex maneuvers to avoid crashing down altogether. The enraged frustration from before has given way to bored exasperation.

Half an hour later, I find the Australian sitting on a small landing with his back against a tree.

"Ah, there you are. Was going to give you another ten minutes and head back down. I've got a trick knee and was getting a little nervous about going on alone. Not as young as I used to be."
"Yeah, it's a bit rough. But believe me, I've seen worse."
"You do a lot of climbing?"
I take a swig of water. "God no. But it's been an interesting trip."
"I'm Bret, by the way."
"Nice to meet you Bret, I'm Tony. Shall we give it another 45 minutes? We've gotta be close."

It takes a little coaxing, but Bret hoists himself up to go on. I am sure we are close, and I'd hate for him to have come this far without seeing the top.

Not long after, we come across a young guy from the States on his way down.

"Hey guys! Looks like you'll be #2 and #3. I was the first up."
"Cool," I say. "How was it?"
"Couldn't see a thing. It's all completely covered in fog. Which kinda sucks. It's supposed to be nice. But you're close. Just another ten minutes."
Bret looks at me. "Well we came this far, may as well finish it. You game?"
"Absolutely."

We chat with the American for a few minutes and move on.

Hanan Pacha - The Condor - The Overground

As promised, we reach the summit of Mount Machu Picchu about ten minutes later. We squeeze through a thin cut in a large rock and walk out onto the long, narrow peak that extends before us.

Roughly in the middle, stands the skeleton of what looks like a small gazebo either in the midst of being built or taken apart. We walk past it and to the very tip of the peak. We are surrounded on three sides by a glowing curtain of clouds.

Taking a seat on the rocky ground,we look out into the high-altitude TV static and wonder when it will clear.

A few minutes later, a man in a baseball cap reaches the top carrying a toolbox and walks over to the bare structure of the gazebo. He shuffles some planks of wood around and sifts through the toolbox. After a bit, he notices us and walks over to where we sit.

"Buenos dias!"

He smiles and shakes our hands.

With both hands, he gestures to the cloud cover that hugs the mountain.

"Don't worry. Half an hour, forty minutes. All this will go away and you'll be able to see the valley. Stick around!"

He walks back over to the construction to begin his day's work where he is soon joined by a few colleagues.

Bret and I pass the time discussing our work, our countries, life, and anything else that pops up. Bret is on vacation and will catch a train early this afternoon back to Cuzco. Then he is off to Buenos Aires. I give him advice on what to do there. We make the mistake of talking about Argentine steaks - a topic that always induces a greedy hunger, especially after walking up the side of a mountain.

We do our best to quell the famine with some boxes of orange juice and bread from my pack.

And then the clouds start to tear and reveal glimpses of green through small holes.

And then the clouds are gone. We stand.

And that is all I have to say. Anything else I might try to describe would be an egregious lie. No amount of amateur prose could possibly articulate what it is like to stand atop Mount Machu Picchu and look down on the citadel of its namesake.

You can look at the photos if you like. But they are all wrong, too. They are two-dimensional representations of a four-dimensional crystal ball that vibrates in and out of space and time.

Down below, there is a long day ahead. But it will only pass in the context of this moment. The mind is firmly lodged here in Hanan Pacha - the realm of the condor.

So I am going to stop here, lest I offend the experience with something as primitive as words. If you need it, it is here waiting for you - hovering on an updraft of warm Andean breath in the morning sun.

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Photos

Machu Picchu from Above
Using maximum zoom

Inside Machu Picchu
The best part about Machu Picchu is that you can just walk around inside the city. No velvet ropes or tacky warning signs. You can wander in and out of houses and temples.

Comments

[Andrea]

Wow. Those pictures are amazing. Can't imagine what it must be like to actually see it in person.