Inca Trail Trek

Peru is a country that my bitty Michelle and I have wanted to visit for a long time. We are both avid travelers, and speak Spanish pretty well for Gringos. Last year we had become friends with a Peruvian couple who she met while attending NYU. They announced they were getting married, and invited us to the matrimony and fiesta in Lima. This was a once in lifetime event, and we had to attend.

Aside from the wedding, our other obvious destinations were the Incan capital city, Cuzco; and the ancient Incan sanctuary, Machu Picchu.

After an incredible wedding that deserves it own story, Michelle and I boarded a bus that arrived in Cuzco 24 hours later. We would reach Cuzco a few days before the New Years 2010 celebration, and would need that time to acclimate ourselves to the city that sits at over 10,000 feet above sea level.

A few hours after the bus departed, we passed a mangled double-decker passenger bus, with ambulances present, and its passengers standing outside. The bus was the same model as the one we were riding, and I had read about the crazy accidents that happened on that two-lane, cliff-scaling road. Seeing this accident had me worrying the remainder of our ride. Slowly and rapidly, though rain and lightning we drove. I could not help but look down the cliff faces that dropped into an abyss just a few feet from the tires. I would have sold my soul for a guardrail! 24 nerve-racking hours later, we arrived in Cuzco, and I could not have been happier!

We spent the next few days wondering around the ancient city, and enjoying the local atmosphere. Cuzco is a charming town that has managed to keep its quaint authentic vibe among all of the tourism and ex-patriots.

On New Years Eve we gathered with thousands of others in the city center, La Plaza de Armas. As the clock struck Midnight, the crowd began yelling, kissing and lighting off fireworks. As Michelle and I were cheersing the strangers next to us, a bottle rocket hit the Champaign bottle in her hand, exploding it and covering us in glass, Champaign, and smoke. We were startled but not injured. Starting our year with a bang, we were ready to trek the Inca Trail.

Our guide picked us up January 2nd along with 10 Argentineans, 2 Koreans, and a Mexican; our group for the 48 Kilometer trek. This being the wet season, we expected a slower pace due to the mud and rain, and would climb over 3,000 feet in elevation, and reach Machu Piccu in 4 days.

The first day was physically the easiest. The terrain was relatively flat, and prepared us for the second day’s uphill battle. We began to see archeological sites, and the mountainous landscape was breathtaking. I began to feel the pain of schlepping my 17 Kilo backpack, and that night I shed as much weight as possible. I donated clothing and my extra shoes to a grateful family living in the Andes.

Day two was strenuous and not stop climbing. We were deep into the mountains, and the magnitude of our journey began to register. It was exciting to be in such a magical place, but the physical challenge was intense. Our bodies were in pain from the heavy backpacks and relentless rocky terrain. When the guide pointed to the peak that was our destination, we knew it would be difficult to get there, but possible. Some members of our group turned back to take the train, but we were determined to continue. Hours later, and after many breaks, we reached the summit know as the Dead Woman’s Pass. We rested at the top for a while and enjoyed the view before beginning our descended towards base camp.

The third day was the most difficult. My body was exhausted and my stomach was in knots. Against the advice of our guide, I drank the stream water without purifying it, and now know first hand why that is a bad idea.

The rain was very aggressive that day. We had ponchos, but they were not impenetrable. The view was supposedly spectacular, but we could not see much due to the fog and rain clouds. When we arrived at our campsite that night our cloths and sleeping bags were soaked. Sleeping was difficult, but the reality that Machu Piccu was so close, made the night bearable.

We got up extra early that morning to be first in line when the park gates opened at 5:30AM. We wanted tickets to climb Huanu Piccu, the mountain right behind Machu Piccu. Huanu Piccu has a panoramic view of the whole area, and limited amounts of people are permitted to hike this peak each day. To get tickets we had to go to the other park entrance where the train lets off near Aguas Calientes. We raced across the park, trying not to be passed by other hikers also seeking Huanu Piccu tickets, but we arrived too late. The people who took the train from Cuzco got the tickets first.

Still thrilled to have arrived, we waited for our group and our tour to begin. Our guide explained to us the history of what we were seeing, and we learned about how everything the Incans built was significant. From the shapes of the rocks used in building, to their location to the sun everything was well calculated. The accomplishments of this ancient culture were impressive, and the potential they could have reached had the Spanish never conquered them will never be known.

We spent the rest of the morning sunbathing and reflecting on where we where, and what we had just accomplished. As we walked down to the train in Aguas Calientes it began raining again. That rain continued for two weeks and caused the recent flooding and tourist evacuations. We had completed our journey just in time. The Inca Trail may never again be the same.