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Published: October 12th 2010
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Machu Picchu
Our first glimpse at the sight (generously zoomed) Breakfast wasn’t until 7AM, a relative sleep in, which some needed more than others. The Boss and I had fallen asleep to the sounds of the group of English guys playing drinking games and, we found out later, Jess had joined them at the town’s only discotheque (it’s what they call it, so I’m sticking with all three syllables.)
Almost the whole group had decided to go zip-lining so I set off in the company of Anja, Willian, Flavio, Julie and the two Swiss guys and Frenchman from the other group. Wilbur was our guide, whilst the other group’s guide (who’s name was Etson but had been dubbed “Charlie Brown” by the English guys due to him calling everyone in his group by that name) went off with the zip liners.
The walk followed the road along the river. It was a dry, hot day and really it was fairly unremarkable, save for coming to an enormous hole in the side of the cliff face with a torrent of water roaring out of it. Despite the almost perfectly round hole, I asked the question, “is that a natural waterfall?”
Wilbur explained that it was in fact a 16 km long tunnel
Machu Picchu
The peak of the mountain drilled through the mountain with an enormous turbine in the middle of it. It, along with another hydroelectric waterfall further up the valley, supplied the electricity for all of Cuzco and the surrounding areas. They were in the process of building a third which they would sell the power from to the surrounding countries.
We progressed on to our eventual lunch stop at a tiny town whose sole purpose seemed to be to cater for the hydroelectric workers. It’s name? Hydroelectric.
Lunch was soup, chicken, rice and chips but they gained big extra points by also supplying a dessert of two scoops of chocolate chip ice cream. We walkers arrived almost an hour ahead of the zip-liners, so we had extra time to relax. I missed out on one of the three hammocks and ended up under a tree, reading my book before discovering the reason it stunk was that next to the tree was the restaurant’s own little garbage tip.
The others arrived and I sat with the Boss as she ate her lunch (read: I ate her lunch). It was also during this time that Jess asked where I was originally from. I told her Newcastle. She told
me that was where Nicola was from. Nic and I got to talking and it turned out that, whilst we hadn’t met each other before, we had a lot of friends in common: one of my best mates had used her ex-boyfriend’s ID when we were underage, my older brother had briefly dated one of her best mates and my Dad was her family’s doctor.
Soon after lunch we set off, this time with the two groups merged together to form one super group - “The Travelling Wilburs” (it’s not lame, it’s brilliant). We only went a few paces up the hill before we were stopped and Wilbur gave us a brief history of Machu Picchu.
An Incan city, it had been abandoned shortly after the Spanish invasion - not because of the fear of attack (indeed, it seems to be almost the perfect fortress, at that height you could see and prepare against an invading army days before they arrived) but because of disease. Wilbur speculated that the Chaskis bringing news to the city had also unwittingly brought European diseases.
In 1911 it was rediscovered by an American adventurer named Hiram Bingham. He stayed in the home of a
The Site
From a different angle, I was stoked with capturing the light through the windows young shepherd boy, named Pablito, who had a number of ancient Incan artefacts in his home. Bingham asked Pablito to show him where he found them. “Not today,” said the boy. “It’s my birthday.”
The next day, Pablito took Bingham up Machu Picchu (which is the name of the mountain the site is situated on, the name of the actual site is still a mystery) where two farmer families were living in the city. I’m not sure what happened to them but hopefully (though doubtfully) they got in on the lucrative tourist trade!
After our brief history Wilbur pointed behind us.
“The mountain with the flag on it is the peak of Machu Picchu,” he said. “And the peak just below it is the site of the lost city.” You could see the ruins - our first glimpse at our ultimate destination!
We spent the next few hours following the train tracks around the mountain to the other side. Along the way there were a few opportunities for photos of the site from below (I got one where two windows are visible, I found them the next day at the site). We also saw the continuing excavation of the site,
Lower terraces
Recently discoverd and still being excavated as they discover more and more terraces for farming just below the site.
We eventually arrived at our destination for the evening - the town of Aguas Calientes (literally meaning “hot waters” due to the hot springs only ten minutes walk away).
Having come from the poverty stricken towns of Santa Maria and Santa Teresa, Aguas Calientes was a shock! Benefiting from the constant tourist dollar, it reminded me more of Jindabyne than any South American town we had been to, mainly because the streets were clean and relatively beggar-and-stray-animal-free.
We got together for a drink before dinner and were shocked when, at paying the bill, we were slapped with a 20% tax. They said it was for service (or maybe it was alcohol) but we soon learned that it was merely the Gringo Tax - the price we paid for being foreign.
Dinner was at a restaurant that actually gave us a choice! I had the Queen’s Avocado (a whole avocado with some delicious fillings I can’t recall but would highly recommend) and then spaghetti Bolognese - doing some carbo loading before the following day’s climb.
Whilst at dinner we received our tickets for entry to Machu Picchu and
were given our train times for the return journey to Cusco. We had been told it would be either at 7:30PM or 10:30PM. It turned out that it was either at 3:30PM or 7:30PM.
The Boss and I thought that a 3:30 train would be perfect. The plan was to be up Machu Picchu by 6, do the climb up Waynapicchu at 10 and be back in town by 1PM at the latest. We had been terrified of getting stuck with the 10:30 train and were honestly stuck for ideas of what to do for the hours before the departure of our 7:30 train. A 3:30 train seemed perfect. To us.
But to the people who got the 3:30, it was as if someone had told them they couldn’t go up Machu Picchu at all.
“We were told we would get a full day. This isn’t fair!” They yelled at Wilbur.
The Boss and I tried to defuse the situation by offering to swap our tickets, but that wasn’t going to fly. The bleating continued. I pointed out that it wasn’t Wilbur’s fault and asked what the problem was anyway - with a 3:30AM rise on the cards, surely 12 hours was plenty of time?
“That’s not the point,” I was told. Maya said she was determined to get some money back. I left them to it. It was getting on 8PM and with a pre-dawn wake up, I had better things to do than hear people whinge about events conspiring to their advantage over which they had no control.
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