After our lovely idyll with Inkaterra (we wrestled with spending another night, but decided we couldn't justify it), we took the vistadome train back to Cusco. We hadn't really paid a lot of attention to the train trip, leaving it in Wayki Trek's hands. So we were disappointed to discover that the train didn't leave until 5:30, which is right around sunset here, meaning that the vistadome was essentially useless. still, a train ride is always fun.
Back in Cusco, the arrival of the weekend brought multiple parades and celebrations involving colorful costumes and dancing. It's all a run-up to the festival of the summer solstice that will bring even greater throngs of people to the city.
And, of course, no celebration would be complete without savory snacks on a stick--like these roasted guinea pigs. Little stands advertising "cuy al palo," guinea pig on a stick are everywhere in Peru.
We were working ourselves up to try some, but then I got sick. I had been pretty literally off my feed for a few days. In fact as far back as our last days on the Inka trail I hadn't felt very hungry, in spite of how much energy I was expending. When I did eat, I felt ill afterwards, bloated and nauseous. Because I wasn't eating much, my energy took a nosedive. I could barely walk a block before having to sit down and rest. And yet the thought of food made me ill.
Finally, we decided it was time for me to see a doctor. Our landlady kindly called a local clinic, and they sent a doctor around about an hour later. She diagnosed gastritis, and inflammation of the stomach lining caused by bacteria, which confirmed what I suspected from googling my symptoms. She prescribed the Peruvian equivalent of Pepto Bismol, a variety of antacids, a bland diet, and no alcohol. The house call cost us $30.
And within two days I was 100% better. I'm still taking the meds just to be safe, but I did sneak a pisco sour last night. It settled well.
P.
The last day on the trail started with surgery.
O had developed a couple of blisters that were beginning to pain her. Fortunately, Jose was up to the task, skillfully popping them and applying moleskin. O's toes were very grateful.
The last day on the trail starts with a 3:30 am wakeup. We rolled out of our snug sleeping bags without complaint. This was the day we'd been anticipating for so many months! The flat trail was illuminated by the dancing firefly lights of dozens of LED headlamps as group after group joined the procession through the dark jungle.
After about half an hour, we stopped. Jose told us that we'd reached the last checkpoint on the trail, but they didn't open until 5:30. Our excitement took a bit of a nosedive, but we dutifully spread out our ponchos and sat on the damp ground to wait the hour-and-half until opening.
We had thought that the point of getting up so early was to get to the Gate of the Sun, the entrance to Machu Picchu, just before sunrise. Nope. It was to allow the porters to make the first train back to Cusco.
At last, we were let through the checkpoint. The day was bright enough already so we didn't need our headlamps. Our enthusiasm had returned full force, and we were making good time down the gently-sloping trail.
Then the trail made a hard left, and we confronted the final climb to the Gate of the Sun.
Steep, steep stairs, one long set after another. Finally, we reached the last set, one so steep that even the trekking poles were useless. We started up on our hand and knees, concentrating on each step. When I thought I might have reached halfway, I looked up only to see I still had a long, long way to climb.
But through the mist, I could see what could only be the Gate of the Sun.
I made it to the top as O and Jose were negotiating the final stretch.
As she walked at last through the Gate of the Sun and saw the magnificent vista of Machu Picchu, O burst out in sobs. She has dreamed of this moment since she was eight years old.
We actually did it.
It turns out that there is quite a long walk from the Gate of the Sun to the main site. I'll spare you the many pictures I took of Machu Picchu looking just like every picture of Machu Picchu you've ever seen.
Except this one.
We were exhausted, but elated, with just enough strength left to totter around the ruins for an hour or two. Here are some of the highlights: the main gate to the citadel of Machu Picchu.
The temple of the sun.
The nobles' residential area.
The main temple. The three windows are aligned with the path of the sun during the year.
The buses from Aguas Calientes were beginning to arrive and the mass of tourists grew accordingly. Only 200 people are allowed to start the Inka Trail each day, and we estimated that there were only 50 to 75 at the checkpoint that morning. Over 3,500 arrive by bus from Aguas Calientes each day, however, so the site is quite thickly populated by mid-day.
We saw tourists from all over the world, including this woman from Bolivia.
The vertical slab on this altar is positioned so that the sun casts no shadow at noon on the summer solstice. The Inka had a profound knowledge of astronomy. There are many theories as to why Machu Picchu was built. Some say it was a spiritual center, some a summer pleasure palace. The theory that makes most sense to me is that it was a place of learning, a sort of university for training the next generation of engineers, architects, and astronomers. Some parts of the ruins are supposed to be a series of classrooms. This is the only site where such structures have been found. The Inkan king who built Machu Picchu was reputed to be a master architect, engineer, and astronomer (as well as a god) himself, so this theory makes sense.
At this point, O had faded and was resting in the shade as Jose and I continued the tour.
This huge rock was carved to matched the silhouette of the mountains across the valley.
These two pools of water were used as mirrors to observe the sun.
The temple of the condor. Here's the head.
And the wings.
One last look before we staggered down the hill to the bus.
We splurged after days on the trail with one night at the five-star Inkaterra Machu Picchu. The first thing we did was celebrate with a delicious pisco sour.
The hotel was everything we'd missed: hot shower with plenty of water pressure, a comfortable bed with clean sheets, a fireplace, and an excellent restaurant. Here's the front porch of our casita.
We decided that evening that we really like civilization.
P.
The next day was supposed to bring lower elevations and less rigorous (by comparison) terrain. On the other hand, it was ten straight hours of hiking, starting with a four-hour, 1,500 foot ascent. I was worried that I had used up too much energy psyching myself up for the day before. Did I have enough left to keep going forward?
Of course, there really wasn't any choice at this point.
And so we set off. Staircase after staircase. And every time we'd turn a corner, we'd see in front of us yet another steep set of stairs, and we'd curse those damn Inka engineers. Jose just laughed at us. "The Inkas' revenge," he said.
Eventually, we emerged from the cloud forest again, to the incredible vistas of the higher trail.
This little lake slakes the thirst of llamas, alpacas, deer, pumas,and even bears. We were surprised to learn that this section of the Machu Picchu reserve is home to both black and spectacled bears.
Eventually, we reached the high point for the day. We were winded, but not nearly as exhausted as the day before, thanks to the lower elevation.
But, of course, we still had six hours ahead of us. Starting with a long, winding series of downs.
After a couple hours, though, the trail started leveling out for longer stretches. We passed ruin after ruin, but at this point we were essentially ruined out. While the younger trekkers gladly hiked up steep trails to reach each site, we stoically marched onward, only pausing at those ruins that were directly on our path.
We descended into a particularly lush section of cloud forest. Here the trail was much more finely constructed and flatter. The trail is built straight across the sheer hillside, the foundations sometimes extending ten to fifteen feet down the face of the hill. The precision of the engineering and the amount of work it took to construct using only stone and wooden tools is awe-inspiring.
The forest here was alive with an incredible diversity of life, exotic flowers of every size and color, butterflies, and trees luxuriant with orchids and mosses. The air was filled with the songs of dozens of colorful birds. O asked that we set our minds on seeing a toucan, and minutes later, two were loudly talking in a tree twenty feet from us.
We were liking this new and improved trail. In back of us, the next mountain over is Machu Picchu mountain. Machu Picchu itself is just over the ridge and down. Hours of hard climbing away, but tantalizingly close. So close in fact that we could hear the deep bellow of the train from Cusco as it chuffed slowly down the valley to Aguas Calientes at the base of Machu Picchu mountain.
Just as we were getting a little giddy with optimism, the downs began in earnest once again.
Staircase after staircase of them.
Vertiginous spirals of stairs.
Stairs through dark tunnels chiseled through solid rock.
Ten hours had passed. Then eleven. Sundown was worryingly close. And finally, I could hear the sounds of camp. Jose and O were somewhere behind me up the trail. When I reached the camp area, I couldn't see our porters in the confusion of other tour groups, so I sat down to wait for Jose and O. Finally, Jose found me. It seems I had overshot our group by about five minutes. Which meant that, exhausted as I was, I had to climb back up the steep trail in the gathering dark.
By the time I got to camp, after eleven and a half hours of hiking, it was barely light enough to see where I was going.
But the panoramic views of the high mountains across the valley made everything worthwhile.
And we knew that tomorrow we would at last see Machu Picchu.
P.
The next day we got up to a delicious and hearty breakfast and formally met the crew. These guys took such good care of us.
As we hit the trail, it started to drizzle, but we were prepared. We knew that the stretch ahead, a five-hour ascent from 10,000 feet to the aptly-named Deadwoman's Pass at nearly 14,000 was supposed to be the hardest of the trek. We had psyched ourselves up for it, but still felt a fair amount of trepidation for the climb to come.
Look at us. We were so young and naive then.
The rain was off and on as we climbed through the cloud forest to about 12,000 feet.
The going was hard, but the scenery was beautiful, wild orchids and rushing streams everywhere.
Then we emerged from the cloud forest and started climbing the steps to the summit. We discovered that the Inka engineers didn't believe in switchbacks. At this point, the trail is pretty much a straight line up the hillside to the summit.
A word about those stairs: a few were of a reasonable height, but most were a step-and-a-half or even two steps high, requiring you to put your whole body into each step. Also, they were very uneven and a bit slippery from the rain, so you had to watch carefully where you put your feet.
All this while the oxygen content of the air is rapidly diminishing.
We were reduced to one slow step, ten breaths, then another step.
And meanwhile, the porters, close to fifty pounds strapped to their backs, sprinted gaily past us, laughing and talking amongst themselves.
We climbed slowly into the clouds. Each step harder than the last.
Finally, I made the summit. Looking back, I could see the valley where we had started the day far below. O and Jose were somewhere down in the mist. At that moment, an eagle zoomed past my head and hovered in the cold wind that streamed through the mouth of the pass.
Eventually, O appeared, doggedly taking one difficult step after another.
Feel her pain and elation (but mainly just exhaustion) as she confronts the last eight steps.
We did it!
One more photo documenting our triumph. Jose later told us that there are over 3,000 stair steps on that particular stretch. And believe me, we felt every one of them.
It was good to be over the worst, but there was much more to come that day: a four-hour descent into the valley beyond.
It seemed easy at first, but it was nearly as difficult as the ascent. The slippery, uneven stairs took great concentration and effort.
But at last we made it to the camp, where we could look back at the pass we'd reached hours earlier. The porters had long since set up the tents, and the cook was busy preparing dinner.
We were so wrecked that we passed on the food and instead crawled into our tent and slept from about 5 pm until the next morning.
P.
