30/1/2012 - 2/2/2012 - The Inca Trail

A 5am start ensured that there wasn't much chatter on the bus which took us to the start of the Inca Trail. We were dropped off to have breakfast in a town en route and I got to know 2 Australian couples in the group who were independently travelling various parts of the world. The others in the group were two American girls and 8 French students who were on exchange in various South American countries. Oh boy.

Outside the cafe where we had breakfast, me and the Aussies bought coca leaves and walking sticks from the old women badgering us. The coca leaves (which are used to make cocaine, but you need quite a serious amount of them to do so) are supposed to be chewed or brewed in a tea and give you a galvanizing boost to get through the trek. I never quite got the hang of the chewing stuff – the leaves just disintegrated in my mouth and I ended up accidentally swallowing them. Later our guide, Juan, told us about the constipation inducing effects of swallowing the coca leaves (fleshed out with a story about a guy who ate so many he had to be airlifted by helicopter off the Inca Trail) so I gave up on them altogether and stuck to my fruit and nut mix.

After a fair bit of waiting around at the entrance to the trail and the obligatory group photo we eventually we set off on the hike. The scenery was spectacular and the hiking easy which suited me just fine since I'd gotten very little sleep the night before (a group of locals had decided to start up a game of football at around 11pm in the echoey courtyard outside our hostel). On the way we stopped at a couple of Inca sites and our guide gave us slightly meandering and confusing (yet very sincere) explanations of what the sites were used for. As far as I could make out (his English wasn't all that) many sites along the trail were used to store food and provide shelter for travellers and “chaskis” - messengers carrying information between Inca settlements.

Aussie tom-foolery

I had barely gotten into my stride when the guide informed us that we were stopping for the night in the next valley. Arriving at our campsite really hit home just how cushy this trek was going to be. The porters, who were carrying pretty much everything except our personal belongings (and some people even paid extra to have their stuff carried by the porters), had already set up our tents, the mess tent inside which we would be eating and greeted us with cups of coca tea. And they even CLAPPED when we arrived. It was a little bit embarrassing to be honest. I also gave up making comparisons with the Roraima trek I'd done – this was going to be a completely different kettle of fish. A 5 star kettle.

Our first Inca site!

Before dinner I went for a wander around the area and bumped into a couple of guys from the other group who were trekking with the same company. Made up of young English, Australians and a couple of Germans they seemed like a lively lot and I was a little tempted when they suggested I should try and join their group. I decided against it but I had a feeling we'd be bumping into each other all along the Inca trail.

Our 3 course dinner (!) was delicious and to me it felt like the tour company was doing everything in its power to make us forget that we were actually out in the countryside doing a 4 day hike. Still, I wasn't complaining. For once, there were no other Russians in the immediate vicinity so I got a tent to all myself and slept like a king. Tomorrow was supposed to be a “hard” day which would take us up and over “Dead woman's” pass at a cool 4215m. Bring it on.

The guides woke us with hot cups of coca tea delivered directly to our tents. Although I appreciated the service, when half-asleep, it took a lot of effort not to spill boiling tea all over myself and the stuff inside my tent (apparently the American girls weren't so lucky).

A scenic resting point on day 3

A hearty breakfast later and we were off. The morning walk saw us eat up a couple of mostly uphill miles before stopping for a brunch; next up – Dead woman's pass. Although it had been built up quite a bit by the guides I couldn't help but be cynical, especially when I saw people in their 60's in other groups around us. At our brunch spot was our last chance to buy snacks and water as there were no more settlements along the trail after this. Naturally, me and the Aussies chipped in for a bottle of rum. 

 

We were encouraged to go at our own speed so me and the two Aussie blokes (Dan and Brendan) decided to try and keep pace with one of the porters carrying supplies who was setting a fairly lively pace. After a while the trail turned into steps. Big steps. Around this time I started to feel the altitude – my heart started racing like I'd just finished a 100m sprint and my lungs battled to get enough oxygen from the increasingly thin air. Up and up we went and with the sound of lively drum and bass in my ears motivating me pretty soon we reached the top, puffing and sweaty but triumphant. The fog was thick and the view virtually non-existent but our spirits were high and there was a slight feeling of “was that it?”. Still, we had another couple of hours to go to the campsite so we regrouped and headed down the other side.

At the top of dead woman's pass

Arriving at the campsite we received a half-hearted clap from the porters (I think they were getting the message that we really weren't keen on it) and had a late lunch. After lunch we were introduced to all the porters who were working hard to make our expedition possible. There were 20 of them! There were only 15 tourists!!! I couldn't believe it. It was nice that we got to meet them though and great to know that this would be their last trek before a month long holiday (the Inca Trail being shut in February). Although Juan, our guide, made the meeting with the porters cheerful I couldn't help but be reminded of the disparity of wealth that existed as we stood in the circle all facing each other. Much as I wanted to convince myself that our presence here was good for these guys and was providing them with a living, I was left with a slightly uneasy feeling that tourism had changed life in this area and I wasn't sure that it was necessarily for the better. 

The Aussies getting in on my panorama

See if you can spot the tourists among the porters

  Since we wouldn't be doing any more walking today, after lunch I collapsed in my tent for a few hours and was eventually roused by the Aussies who were keen to have some rum (I possessed the cola they needed). After killing a few more hours we had an undeservedly large dinner during which Juan told us a story about an Israeli guy killing his German wife on their honeymoon on the Inca Trail. According to him, the Israeli guy shot his wife in the middle of the night, dragged the body to an Inca site nearby, then cried for help and blamed the murder on terrorists who operated in the area at the time. Already sounds pretty suspect but apparently he was only arrested after the family of the German woman hired a private investigator who found the gun in a nearby cave. (This story had just enough in it to make it plausible but we checked it out when we got back to Cuzco and could find no reference to it on the internet. Its obviously made up but it makes me laugh that the perpetrator was Israeli – why? I didn't think the Peruvians were known to be racist towards the Israelis). After dinner we gave the remnants of our rum to the porters and hit the sack. Tomorrow was supposed to be a “long day”. Whatever.

View after the uphill section on day 3.

The next day, our last day of serious trekking, started with a slight uphill section before plateauing into an easy hike during which we stopped at a bunch more Inca sites. I really didn't get much out of Juan's meandering explanations and most of us were keen just to get walking again, but it was still impressive to think of the Incas building settlements in these spectacular locations so far off the beaten track. Our lunch spot was scenic to say the least and we were treated to our first glimpse of Machu Pichu, a few terraces of the settlement being visible behind the mountain rising up in front of us. Another lengthy hike later, during which the trail became somewhat like what I'd imagined “The Inka Trail” to be like (a winding path hugging the mountain on one side with a hefty drop on the other), we arrived at our last campsite. There was a lively mood in the camp and we played several rounds of a game introduced by the French guys which resembled a quick-fire murder mystery (something to do with wolves versus villagers). Drama GCSE skills reared their ugly heads as I unscrupulously accused one friend after another only to be turned on by the group and have my identity revealed - all good fun. After dinner Juan called for our attention and assumed a serious tone: if we wanted to be the first group through the gate to Machu Pichu we'd have to be up at 3am. There was no discussion – we unanimously decided to go for it. 

We got cake on the last day!

The next thing I remember was being stirred awake and another cup of boiling hot coca tea being thrust through my tent door into my outstretched hands. I definitely hadn't had enough sleep but the prospect of our impending arrival at Machu Pichu filled me with a jittery excitement and as we left the campsite, walking past other groups still having their breakfast, it felt great to be “those guys” that got up half an hour earlier than everyone else. After barely 15 minutes walk we arrived at the official gate barring our way to the final part of the trail which would take us to Machu Pichu... but the gate didn't open until 5am. As we sat down to wait in the dark there was the odd thought of “why the hell did we wake up so early” but the time flew and before I knew it we were beckoned through the gate. Juan led the way setting a lively pace, just short of a run, but me and the Aussies, steeled ourselves and kept up, taking off the many layers that had kept us warm during the cold wait without stopping. As we blasted along the trail, the sun rose revealing the vast valley on our right. We clambered through mini-caves, climbed monstrously steep steps and finally arrived at the “Sun Gate”, only to be greeted by dense mist. Panting and wet with perspiration one of the Aussies echoed all of our thoughts when she said “Why the hell did we rush all that way for?”. Then, just as if the micro-climate surrounding the area had heard our complaints, the fog began to clear and down in the distance the angular shapes of Machu Pichu's ruins became visible through the gloom.

 

Within minutes our whole group had arrived and the cloud had cleared completely to reveal our final destination: Machu Pichu. Cheesy as it sounds, at that moment all that money and all that trekking felt worth it. Token photos were taken, congratulations were exchanged and, as the area around the Sun gate began to get filled up with other groups, we headed off on the very last section of our trek.

Actually arriving at Machu Pichu itself was undeniably an anti-climax, partly because of the tiredness that was beginning to kick in and partly because of the volume of tourists that were already there (the lazy ones who had gotten the train from Cuzco to the nearby village of Aguas Calientes and then gotten the bus up to Machu Pichu). In the background of most of the textbook photos of Machu Pichu stands the imposing mountain of Huayna Pichu. I'd already decided to come back and climb this mountain tomorrow (thus spending another day at Machu Pichu) so during our tour of the town I didn't work too hard at taking in Juan's explanations, which had more twists and turns than Swindon's magic roundabout. We had a couple of hours to explore Machu Pichu ourselves (it was undeniably spectacular but I'd already resolved to do it properly tomorrow) and then headed to the village/tourist trap of Aguas Calientes where we met up for an overpriced but hearty lunch.

Once upon a time, Aguas Calientes must have been a small village with a few households living off the local land. Then Machu Pichu was discovered. Then the tourism started. Nowadays it is a mishmash of overpriced restaurants, hostels and shops selling Inca-inspired tat (you can't even walk out of the train station without walking through a market selling Inka Cola t-shirts and holograms of Machu Pichu). There is very little to do in a place like this except leave as soon as possible or get merry with your fellow trekkers. Me and the Aussies joined forces with the other group (full of English, Germans and other Australians) and opted for the latter.

The evening saw us join in on a game of football with a bunch of Brazilians against some locals (we got destroyed) and then sample some “Chifa” (Peruvian-Chinese cross-over cuisine) before heading to our hostel where I opted for an early night - I would be heading back to Machu Pichu at 5am again tomorrow.  

Reflections? The trek had been great – the scenery, the company and the (ridiculous) level of service had made for a great experience. Machu Pichu? It was undeniably impressive but tourism had definitely taken some of the shine off and the cliché about journey-over-destination seemed to ring true for a lot of us. However I would reserve my judgement for tomorrow - for now I was happy with hot showers and a bed.