Off the Couch and On the Road

Today was a free day in Cusco and I decided to spend it wandering around and not doing very much at all. I had a massage at a place recommended by our leader (‘no happy endings, don’t worry!’ he told us) which was heaven on my sore muscles, they seemed to know exactly which muscles were in desperate need of some pampering. Sarah, Dan and I then enjoyed lunch at Jack’s Café, which was owned by an Australian couple and offered delicious hamburgers and chocolate milkshakes. It was perfect, despite not being ‘responsible travel’ according to our leader, but whatever, sometimes you just need a cheeseburger and milkshake right?

That evening was supposed to be our Pisco sour and Guinea Pig party, so we were all excited and eagerly split up in taxis to get to the restaurant on top of the hill overlooking the city. We should have known (the best nights are those you don’t plan), but the restaurant was musty, and empty, and playing dance music incredibly loud, with the lights on. We did vaguely learn how to make Pisco sours, and tried Guinea Pig (it tasted ok, but the look of the whole animal sitting on the table turned me off), before our other meals arrived. And they were awful. It was all just awful. By the time Catherine had an allergic reaction to some nuts in her meal, we all wanted to leave.

Back down the mountain after dinner, we ended up at the main plaza for happy hour drinks at the Mama Africa bar, calling it a night after not very long at all. We decided that we would party hard another night. Just not tonight

– Sarah

Today’s wake-up call was at 4am. I was up long before that, listening to the rain on the roof of the tent and hoping it would stop before we began our two-hour descent into Maccu Pichu itself.

Once the official wake-up call had us out of our sleeping bags (consisting of a torch light on the tent and a ‘Buenos Dias!’ by the porter), we packed quickly, ate breakfast (oh, I am sooo going to miss our chef) and walked 100m or so to the gate at the start of the final leg of the Inca trail. They don’t open the gates until 5.30am, and we were one of the first groups to line up – the line extending all the way up the campsite, hundreds of people all waiting to hike up to the sun gate for the first views of the ancient site.

We had our passports checked and as the groups raced ahead, I plodded along the rainforest track by torchlight, completely alone and thinking that the track and mist reminded me of a scene in Robin Hood, prince of thieves. Then I got totally freaked out when I realised Miguel was stealthily walking behind me without my realising. Holy Shit. I just hope I wasn’t talking to myself. The track was Peruvian flat, with a couple of stairs and rocks, but mostly gradual slopes which was nice considering we were walking in the dark. The rest of the queue soon caught up and I was hesitantly waiting to be pushed aside or stampeded, but most other trekkers seemed as tired and sore as I was, so hello’s and words of encouragement were all that were exchanged.

After arriving at the supposedly spectacular sun gate in good time, there was nothing to see but clouds and mist. I wasn’t that disappointed, it was still quite an adventure to trek in the dark, and we met up as a group for a quick rest before our final 40mins downhill to Maccu Pichu.

By that time, descending down to a more reasonable elevation, we could clearly see Machu Piccu for the first time and I couldn’t help but grin at the sheer magnificence of it all. It was so familiar and yet new, and after the obligatory photos at the classic spot, we met up with out fellow travellers that didn’t do the Inca trail (instead catching the train up) and stopped for another rest and snack before our official tour through the site.

It was fascinating, and beautiful, and huge. My knees were also killing and I had enough photos of the site to realise they were never going to look anything like the postcards. So after our extensive tour, when it was time to explore on our own, I opted for the toilet and a bus ride back to the local town of Agua Calientes with our guides and waited for everyone else to arrive. We had lunch, the first normal and not so amazing but pretty good meal in days, and did speeches and photos before walking with our bags (oh, I miss our porters too) to Maccu Pichu train station.

Everyone slept on the 1.5hr train ride back to Ollyantambo. Everyone except my group that is, who had had a few too many Pisco sours at lunch and were giggling like schoolgirls the whole way. We met our mini-bus at Ollyantambo and drove another 1hr and 45mins to our beautiful, beautiful hotel in Cusco. Dreams of winning the lottery have nothing on a hot shower and soap after 4-days of trekking.

That evening was spent enjoying delights of Cusco, with a lovely meal and some Pisco sours at a place called Top Coffee. Which you would assume is a coffee shop, as we did, and then you would actually realise that the waitresses weren’t wearing very much at all, and there were an unusual amount of sleazy married men within the café. I didn’t stay too long.

It was a long day, but so satisfying, and I mentally checked the Inca trail off my bucket list as I snuggled down in my comfortable bed at the hotel, wishing the trails cooks would arrive with pancakes and hot chocolates in the morning.

– Sarah

Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch. They were my first words to my tentmate Tina as we were woken at 6.15am the next morning by our porters, who served us tea, hot water and soap outside our tents (I can’t complain about the service around here, it has to be said).

I was in so much pain I couldn’t move, and freezing cold to boot. We had breakfast and packed up before gathering around in a circle, for the official introductions to our porters and chefs. We found out their names, where they were from (Intrepid usually sources porters from the same village, young and old, and rotates villages to spread the wealth between local communities), whether they had kids, and what they were responsible for carrying on the trail. We applauded them for their hard work and head off on our ‘easy’ day soon after. It would have been easy, had my knees not been screaming with pain with every step downhill (uphill seemed to have its benefits, in retrospect).

It was a short day today, so after a few stops for photos, we made it to the Inca archaeological site where we lay on one of the grass terraces where ancient Incas used to farm, to relax for half an hour or so. We could see our campsite at the bottom of the mountain (more steps downhill, ouch), and after a while I head off down the trail to our campsite. It was about 2pm, so we had the afternoon free which was great, considering we had an early start to get to Maccu Pichu before sunrise the next morning.

After lunch, we had an optional walk to a nearby archaeological site that was right near our campsite. I struggled to warm up the knees after letting them sit for so long but walked around, listened to the interpretation and took some photos before walking back to the campsite. The site was beautiful, but a few photos later afternoon tea was looking pretty good. The afternoon and evening was once again spent playing cards and eating – we were all excited about our final morning hike up to Maccu Pichu though were so sad so see our porters and chefs go (especially the chefs, they were amazing) – and it was another early night.

-Sarah

The second day of our hike was one of those days I was not looking forward to, at all. We would climb two mountains today, one huge steep one to an altitude of 4200m, downhill for lunch then uphill again to our second campsite at 3620m.

The day started out with a mild drizzle, steadily soaking everything through. As we ascended in altitude, the wind turned icy and I took my time, well behind the others who were speeding ahead, stopping to catch my breath every few minutes. It was beautiful scenery – stone steps ascending into dense jungle with waterfalls and wooden bridges, and I got to know other groups and porters as we each took turns overtaking each other and resting.

I got into a rhythm after a while (mostly because our guide Miguel was standing behind me saying ‘Let’s keep going’, ‘5 more minutes’, ‘The hardest part of the Inca trail is almost over’ – I just rolled my eyes) and emerged at the top of the never-ending stone stairs to be greeted by rocky valleys and ice-capped mountains. The giant breast of Dead Woman’s Pass was straight ahead, and I took it slowly but steadily to the top. As it was quite a high altitude, we weren’t supposed to stay very long at the top, and I didn’t blame my group for not waiting for me, it was freezing and clouded in mist and fog – you certainly couldn’t see much in terms of a view, but by that point I didn’t care. I high-fived Miguel for making it, took a few pics and drank some water, and we left the top of the pass for the downhill slope on the other side.

Porters raced past us with 25kg of equipment on their backs, and I felt great as I sped down more rocky stairs for the 1.5 hrs we had downhill before lunch. Not long after I had begun, we came across Craig and his wife Claire, who had sprained her ankle on her way down. As I continued on alone, Miguel administered First-Aid and radioed for a porter to come back up from the lunch site and carry Claire’s bag. I made it down to the lunch site starving and cold, and we all huddled in the lunch tent waiting for Claire, who bravely limped in about 45mins later. We enjoyed another great meal (I was supposed to lose weight on this trip!) before continuing 2hrs uphill to an archaeological site, one of the many ruins along the Inca trail before Maccu Pichu. We had the spiel and took some photos before the final 30mins on what our guide called ‘Peruvian flats” (it was not flat per se, but after what we had done, it was pretty close) to our campsite.

It was a lot colder the second night, and I added more layers before heading into the lunch tent for afternoon tea. It was Viebeke’s birthday today, and the chefs had made, from scratch with nothing but what they carried on their backs along the way, a beautiful birthday cake with decorated icing and writing on top. It was still steaming when they brought it out singing happy birthday, and everyone was once again amazed at how talented our porters and chefs were. We played more cards by torchlight and managed to still fit dinner in before bedtime, although I was so cold I couldn’t sleep most of the night. But I had finished the hardest part of the Inca trail and I didn’t cry once, that had to count for something, right?

-Sarah

We began the Inca trail by catching a bus to Ollyantaymbo, the onward to the 61km mark of the trail. Which was a great start if you ask me. It was meant to be an easy day, starting at 9.45am and walking until lunch, but we made quite a few stops along the way, and there were so many porters and groups of hikers walking the same narrow trail it got terribly annoying after a while. I had to move aside everytime someone wanted to overtake me (not to mention the llamas, donkeys, horses and locals along the way). But the scenery was stunning – dry, green shrubs and trees meandering alongside the Urubamba River – and I enjoyed the walk immensely. (Ok, I’ll admit, I enjoyed it after it was over. During the hike it was long, hot, tiring and painful, and I made bets with my guide Miguel to see how slow I really was, using the timer on his watch. Turned out I wasn’t that slow, because he won everytime, damn it.)

During lunch, our porters who we had left behind, had somehow overtaken us along the way and had set up an honest to goodness tent with a long table, cutlery and stools. They brought out tray after tray of spinach soup, garlic bread, rice, beans, trout and stuffed avocadoes. The meal went on and on, and I was too busy stuffing myself to wonder how they had made all of this with equipment carried on their backs. It was, so far, my favourite part of the hike.

We rested after lunch, laying in the warm sunshine overlooking the mountains and the river close by, and raced after our packs as local chickens tried to eat our snacks inside, having already successfully chewed off a doll’s arm on Claire’s bag. Then we were off again, from 3pm until 5.30pm (it felt like forever), up a mountain to our first campsite. At one point, we could see dead woman’s pass, the highest point on our trek the following day, and you could actually see the shape of the woman laying down between two other mountains, her hair perfectly coiffed and breasts high and firm.

There was one mountain to climb that afternoon, and with the group ahead of me, I made my way up alone the narrow dirt path up, and up, what seemed like a 50-storey building. I arrived at our campsite in good time (according to Miguel’s watch) and we were provided with tiny two-person tents, which I shared with Tina, and hot water to wash our face and hands. After adding some layers to prepare for the evening chill, we then met in the mess tent and had popcorn, biscuits with jam and hot chocolate, before playing cards until dinnertime. Dinner, like lunch, was amazing, plate after plate arrived as we were fed like kings. It was bedtime straight after dinner (our 8 or so porters and chef slept in the dining tent at night) and I slept like a log.

-Sarah