Day 4:
Today started off uncomfortably early. At 4:30, we were making final final decisions on what would come with us and what would stay. We felt like we had gotten down to barebones at the time, though our future selves might disagree.
Checkout at 5, pickup at 5:30, barreling through streets in a suicidal turistico bus at 6. The whole way though the winding, vertical streets of Cusco made me want to throw my hands up rollercoaster style. When we made it to the countryside, the driver's lead foot truly asserted itself, but the views were absolutely spectacular. Breakfast at 7:30 (a rushed affair) and then the trailhead by 9. After passing through passport control and over a ballistic rope bridge, we discovered the true meaning of what our guide (Papa Freddie) calls "Inca Flat". Inca Flat actually means you go up and down a whole lot without actually accomplishing any real elevation.
Just before lunch, we created a rise and across the valley from us was a gorgeous terraced ruin (which had a barely pronounceable and entirely unspellable name). Turns out it was the primary trading city that served Machu Picchu. Got some history and some rest overlooking the ancient city before heading onward to lunch.
Lunch is like Hogwarts. Magically delicious courses (there were THREE-for LUNCH!) just keep appearing. We had guac and chips, corn soup, and then trout with potato's, veggies, and rice in a lovely brown mystery sauce. We were in awe, and very full. We then had a brief siesta with some hot tea so we didn't split a seam when we resumed the up part of Inca Flat.
A couple of quick hours later and here we are, overlooking our camp (Huayllabamba, I have a reference sign for this one) and the mountain of "sacred tears", which was the last marker of the Inca's home as they fled the conquistadors. It's utterly breathtaking. It's truly a view to make you weep.
Interlude: Chaskis
Chaskis (the qetchua name for Porter) deserve special mention. These men are superhuman (and 5 foot tall so naturally I felt an immediate kinship). There were 22 for our 16 member trek and in addition to carrying all the food, tents, dishes, and cooking gear (propane tanks, stoves, etc) they also carry 8kg of gear for some members of the trek who opt for that option. When kitted out, they have a maximum weight of 25 kg (~55lbs) which takes the form of an immense bag covered in a bright yellow (for our company) rain cover. Apart from carrying all of this communal gear and food, they also set up camp, break down camp, and cook gourmet three course meals. That means that with these enormous packs, they sprint past our group to the lunch site, set up a cooking and serving tent, cook lunch, and then greet and serve us as we roll in to camp.
Once finished we resume the hike while they clean dishes, break-down camp, and repack. Soon after, we'll see them sprint past us again to anticipate our arrival for dinner which also includes setting up all of our personal tents. Many of these men are over thirty (the oldest in our crew was 67!), having been chaskis since they were teenagers, or learned the role from their fathers. Frequently they are wearing sandals, loafers, converse, or even soccer cleats in one case, ruining any excuses about equipment.
The description alone doesn't do these men justice. You have to imagine a five foot, heavily tanned and creased man bouncing down a set of irregular stone steps at a half jog, carrying a pack as large as he is. His cheek bulges with coca leaves, and he smiles a weary grin as he barrels past. His hands are currently holding the straps of his bag, but later will carve an intricate owl from a cucumber more than 15 miles from the nearest town.
As an aside, I do have a favorite chaski. His name is Manuel, and he brings me tea every morning, and rum at the top of Dead Woman's Pass. At 46 years old, he already has the sage wisdom of a Tibetan monk and the gravitas of a Parisian waiter.
Day 5: The Hard Day
So Day Two is notorious. In order to achieve the 4200 meter summit, we had to gain just over a thousand meters. In five hours. Which causes one to question their athleticism, their packing choices, their presence in Peru, and the existence of oxygen in the Andes. It truly is five hours of continuous uphill, mostly in the form of wonky stone steps winding along the face of the steep Andean slope. The name of this daunting challenge is Dead Woman's Pass, which supposedly resembles a woman's supine form with arms crossed on her chest. Maybe we were too cross-eyed from the climb to see the 'Woman', but the 'Dead' part of the title made perfect sense.
Stu and I checked the weight of our packs at a chaski control point near the bottom (chaskis' packs' weights are carefully regulated and after each day their weight is expected to drop by a certain amount as food is consumed, etc.) and we were sitting at ~14 kilos each. We chalk up most of the weight to the 3 litres of water and a 2.5 kilo rented sleeping bag each. It was the heaviest of the group (we opted not to hire porters to cart a portion of our gear) and started as a source of mild embarrassment about our minimalism (or lack there of), but as we summited, turned into a source of immense pride. Despite the altitude that had us puffing, Incan stairs the height of my thigh, and a bright sun overhead, we. fucking. did it!
At the top, Manuel and Papa Freddie led an Incan Ceremony, where we each deposited a rock we had carried up from a waterfall below along with three coca leaves to bring water to the mountain. The ceremony was sealed with a flask of rum, which everyone passed around and poured a little out for Pacha Mama (mother Earth), and took a little of for themselves. It did a lot to take the bite out of the howling wind.
We then hiked down 600 meters, which was significantly easier, though fairly demoralizing. There was a lot more camaraderie and sense of family between our group that evening, as we had all conquered a common enemy. Stu was even energized enough to join some of the chaskis in rinsing themselves in a snowmelt stream. He even convinced me to dip my head. Admittedly, I did feel better afterwards (if not during).
Day 6: The Beautiful Day
The day started with another lung-killing climb, with a short stop midway up at the ruins of a lookout tower watching over Dead Woman's Pass. After that point, there were two soul-destroying false summits before we reached the top of the second pass.
From there, we didn't go down immediately, but instead hiked along ridge lines until lunch. The views were utterly stunning. We took a long time to reach the lunch spot because we were taking photos and stopping to admire colorful pieces of the cloud forest we were hiking through. We were above the clouds for hours, and Stu claims these hours as his favorite part of the four day trek.
Just after lunch, Papa Freddie took us on a five minute jaunt to a point that looked out over Machu Picchu mountain and all of the surrounding valleys and mountainsides.
It was our first taste of our final destination. He pointed out that night's campsite at Wiñay Wayna, the town of Aguas Calientes nestled way down in the bottom of the valley, and the rough path we'd take down through forest and more ancient terraces. He said that he only was able to show off this vista once every four months, so we were thankful to hit this spot on such a clear day.
It was our first taste of our final destination. He pointed out that night's campsite at Wiñay Wayna, the town of Aguas Calientes nestled way down in the bottom of the valley, and the rough path we'd take down through forest and more ancient terraces. He said that he only was able to show off this vista once every four months, so we were thankful to hit this spot on such a clear day.
A thousand slippery stone stairs later (down, thank God), we found ourselves ambling straight through a set of perfectly maintained terraces just before our intended campsite. It turns out that only part of the maintenance on these steppes is done by people; the majority of the work is done by llamas, the Andean lawn-mower.
We made camp and then wandered another couple of minutes to the Wiñaywayne ruins nearby. Because it was built into a natural lee in the mountain, it felt like a terraced amphitheater. Actually, we thought it'd make a nice concert venue if given the opportunity. Instead, it was eerily silent and deserted as the sun set.
Day 7: The Payoff
Some quick background on the final campsite on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu:
There are 15 individual campsites at Wiñay wayna. The checkpoint to the rest of the trail that leads up to the Sun Gate opens at 5:30am.Everyone wants to see the sun rise over Machu Picchu at the Sun Gate. So, it has become a race. The important first step is place in line to pass through the final checkpoint. Passports and tickets are checked so being in the first 2 or 3 still leaves you in the running but it tends to back up quickly. As such, Papa Freddie was spreading false rumors of plans to get up at 3:30 while secretly plotting to get up at 3 and get in line.
The plot worked. We had a quick breakfast and were 3rd in line (of 15) and the only two groups to beat us were up at 2 and had their porters bring breakfast down to them! Then, because the antics we're all about placement, we had about an hour and a half of hurry up a d wait for the control gates to open at 5:30. For most, it meant an hour's nap propped up against their packs. When the checkpoint opened, we moved through as quickly as possible determined to overtake the two leading groups in the hour and a half remaining in the hike to the sun gate.
There are 15 individual campsites at Wiñay wayna. The checkpoint to the rest of the trail that leads up to the Sun Gate opens at 5:30am.Everyone wants to see the sun rise over Machu Picchu at the Sun Gate. So, it has become a race. The important first step is place in line to pass through the final checkpoint. Passports and tickets are checked so being in the first 2 or 3 still leaves you in the running but it tends to back up quickly. As such, Papa Freddie was spreading false rumors of plans to get up at 3:30 while secretly plotting to get up at 3 and get in line.
The plot worked. We had a quick breakfast and were 3rd in line (of 15) and the only two groups to beat us were up at 2 and had their porters bring breakfast down to them! Then, because the antics we're all about placement, we had about an hour and a half of hurry up a d wait for the control gates to open at 5:30. For most, it meant an hour's nap propped up against their packs. When the checkpoint opened, we moved through as quickly as possible determined to overtake the two leading groups in the hour and a half remaining in the hike to the sun gate.
Papa Freddie led the group at a blistering pace, covering the first 5km in about 40 minutes, passing most of the two groups that had been ahead of us in line. After a two minute break to catch our collective breath, we climbed up 52 vertical (not an exaggeration- it felt like a low key rock wall) stone steps, and nearly jogged the last 10 minutes uphill to the Sun Gate.
Disappointingly, the morning was quite foggy, so we couldn't see Machu Picchu from the historic high vantage point. We settled for congratulating each other on making it to this point, and started down the trail to the ruins proper. A half hour later, the ancient city itself, one of the seven wonders of the world, blossomed through the fog.
Honestly, Machu Picchu itself was a little bit of a letdown after the four day trek to get there. It's not that the city isn't spectacular, or that it didn't completely overshadow all of the other ruins we'd seen in size and scope; it was just too Disneyland. Even at 7am, there were already hundreds of people there, fresh off the bus from Aguas Calientes. By midday, there were thousands. The selfie-taking crowds took a lot away from the majesty of the ruins, and, as petty as it may sound, it felt like they hadn't earned it the way we had.
That said, Papa Freddie gave us a great tour around Machu Picchu, showing us the king's estate and the sun temple, and explaining all about various aspects of the ruins. We then toured around on our own for a bit before catching the bus back to the town a half hour below.
We met up with the rest of our group for a final lunch and some well-deserved beers, said goodbye to Papa Freddie, and caught the train home. The train was a raucous ride, as most of our group was sitting together, and many were no longer sober.
Back in Cusco at 8:30, grabbed the belongings we'd left behind, and hiked (thought we were done with that...) over to our higher-end hotel with a king-size bed. We had a mediocre empanada for a late dinner, and crashed. Hard.
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