Machupicchu - 1st and 2nd day

Wow, wow and more wow! Despite a demanding three days, the Inca Trail to Machupicchu was everything we hoped for and it is something everyone should do before they die.

Before starting out, our tour operator warned us that the trail could involve trudging through icy rain and wind for the entire four days and accordingly, he advised us to bring clothing that could resist the elements. We proudly informed him that we were forearmed with fleecies and wind sheets to meet the challenge. Our confidence dissolved when he responded with a bleak expression and woeful sigh that evoked images of Scott’s doomed expedition to the North Pole. To aggravate matters, he nervously informed us that, due to a mudslide having melted away a section of the trail, we would have to divert to the nearby town of Aguas Calihentes just before reaching Machupicchu. The name of the town alone let us know that we were in hot water (excuse the pun). In effect, it meant that we had to do the normal four-day trail in three days and then get a bus from Aguas Calihentes to Machupicchu on the fourth day. The image of us gloriously entering Machupicchu on foot as the sun rose through the Sun Gate was suddenly eclipsed by an altogether different vision:

Looking down from the cloudy realms of the condor we saw vast mountain in the distance with a thread of a trail etched along its side, which had been severed in numerous places by avalanche clawmarks as if a colossal condor had tried to grasp the thread and bear it away…Riding the egests we soared closer - mite like specs clinging to an isolated strand of trail resolved into a group of frostbitten hikers huddled together for warmth in the face of the driving gale.

The Condor had spoken! We dashed out and bought clothing and provisions for an Artic expedition. Packed like alpacas, we were ready to set out for Machupicchu.

On the first day we were picked up at sparrows-fart in the morning and introduced to the rest of our small group of hikers: Walter our tour guide, Roger and Sarah from the UK and Justin, an ex South African living in London, his girlfriend Sarah from New Zealand and a number of porters and a cook. After a very scenic one hour drive, we arrived at the starting point, Chilea (2600 m above sea level). We started out following the Kusichaca River up the Sacred Valley to our first campsite Wayllabaa (3100 metres). Ricky was ill, so the start of the trail was a nightmare for him.

Ricky “I thought it was important to do in Cusco as the locals do (You know, “When in Rome…”), so the day before our trail started we had headed to the local produce market. Perhaps I should have been forewarned by the contrapuntal odours of alpaca wool, lama-milk cheese and everted offal and Tereza’s dire predictions, but I was an intrepid adventurer not to be daunted by such trivialities as reason! So, fending off flies, I strolled through the thronging maze of hawkers selling wares ranging from socks to raw meat sampling various mouldy cheeses and buying the recipe of my future torment, to serve as lunch. In the same manner as some rights in Rome were reserved for its citizens only, clearly Cusco’s local fare is best enjoyed by the indigenous population alone. Unfortunately, the laws of cause and effect held true and for the entire first day of the trail it felt like my stomach was being inverted with red hot irons. I arrived at the camp a lighter man. Fortunately, I had the fresh air and breathtaking views to distract me and the motivation of having travelled half way around the world for the pleasure of being tortured. Despite this, in some bizarre way, I loved every moment. Here I was in the heart of the Andes exorcising my daemons. ”

Initially the walking was fairly easy heading towards a majestic snow capped peak. Around noon we passed some Inca ruins in a valley below us called Willkarakay. From our vantage point high above, the myriad of walls and roofless stone dwellings below looked like an open termite mound, long since abandoned to the elements. After lunch, the trail zigzagged steeply past a few lonely dwellings to our campsite. Lugging our overburdened packs became a gruelling exercise forcing us to consume volumes of the water, the price of which increased proportionately to the increase in altitude. By the end of the day we had covered 12 km and climbed 500 meters in 6.5 hours and were sore all over. It became apparent that, if this short incline was difficult, then the next day would be impossible. As a result, we didn’t question Walter’s advice that we hire porters for the 2nd day which he predicted would be twice as long and hard.

Our first campsite was near the base of a wide valley with mountains towering all around. It was a great relief to discover that the porters had set up our tents and prepared our supper. The food was good (Ricky, “Not that I had much as Walter, concerned that I was suffering from altitude sickness, had put me on a strict diet of Coco and black tea.”) The only downside to the campsite was a terrible squat toilet. Tereza “Mother nature was a much better loo!” As a result there was more than one moon visible that night.

Day two began again at 5 am. Tereza “I had a terrible night’s sleep, so the day was very long, not only for me, but also for Ricky who had to listen to my griping”. Thankfully, Ricky was feeling so much better. We started with the mandatory Cocoa tea with breakfast prepared by the porters. Thankfully, we handed our pregnant backpacks over to the porters who were incredible: waking up at the crack of dawn to prepare breakfast, breaking camp, bearing enormous loads along the trail, making lunch, setting up the next camp, cooking supper and cleaning up. They emulated termites running along the trails with disproportionate loads on their backs and slops on their feet. Incredibly, notwithstanding their punishing workload, they were always jovial and smiling - an absolute delight!

After breakfast, with the first rays of the morning sun crowning a huge shadow of a mountain behind us, we set out on a seemly never-ending trail to the top of the world. The first section was a steep but pleasant climb through cool green forests besides a purling stream and was reminiscent of Skeleton Gorge, just much longer. All too soon, we emerged out of the forest into the sweltering sun. What did we bring those polar bear fleeces for - even the llamas alongside the trail were sunbathing?! The going was hot and there were millions of stairs rising higher and higher – some big and some small, but always more. Ricky “It reminded me of a magical set of stairs in a book I read as child, “The House that Bibo Built”. In the book, there were three floating stairs and when the protagonist had stepped up to the top stair, he would take the bottom stair and put it above the top stair and so on, continuously climbing ever higher and higher to escape his earthbound pursuers.” In a similar vein, we continued to follow our never ending staircase towards a huge granite castle set on the crest of the mountaintop.

It turned out that the trail didn’t lead right up to the castle, but instead bypassed it to the left of it over a nearby saddle. Nor was there a castle, for as we neared the summit, it became apparent that what had appeared to be the outline of a castle’s battlements was in fact a towering wall of igneous rock from which emerged the half molten forms of Condors, Pumas, Serpents and Inca faces, as if the Inca’s numen spirits had been petrified just as they were attempting to rise like wraiths from sacred mother earth. However, not even the solemn disdainful gaze of these deities could deflate our elation when we reached the summit.

We had ascended 1100 meters up Dead Women’s Pass (4200 meters above sea level) (Tereza “I can relate to the name - the first part of the walk had taken 4.5 hours and I was finished”). The majestic panoramic views from the crest of the mountain lifted our spirits and we soared over the Andes like thermal borne condors. From this perspective we could understand why the Inca’s regarded the condors as messenger spirits from the heavens above, it felt like we were at heavens gates with the earthly realm of the puma far below. The serpent’s underworld couldn’t reach us here.

Like Icarus, our time with the condors proved to be short lived as our guide pointed out that we would have lunch in the next valley some 400 meters below, in the realm of the puma, at a campsite called Runkurakay (3800 m). The walk down was hard on the knees with us having to navigate down a flight of huge steps, constantly concentrating to avoid falling – thankfully we had walking sticks. After lunch, our creaky knees had to ascend another 300 m pass and then descend 400 meters into the Valley of the Clouds to our next camp at Chaquiquocha (3680m). Tereza “I was shattered and the thought of now walking uphill only to walk down again was crazy. It started to drizzle a bit and for the first time but luckily it didn’t last long.”

Exhausted, our descent into the Valley of Clouds was a surrealistic experience with the world around us dissolving in milky mist with the occasional frosted window opening to reveal a sea of clouds girdling snow-capped island peaks in the distance. We could have been forgiven for believing we were descending to the realm of the Serpent, a ghostly Hades. As darkness fell, we passed the mist shrouded ruins of Sayquarka and then were swallowed by the inky shadows of a rain forest. Only after wending our way through a labyrinth of paths through the forest did our campsite finally emerge silhouetted against a midnight blue horizon. We crawled into camp like serpents slithering from the underworld. We had walked for approximately 12 hours to reach our campsite, Concha Marca (3550m) and were utterly exhausted. Although it was hard going, the scenery was our catharsis: Lakes, cacti, ancient Inca sites, snow-capped mountains, running streams and rivers, lichen and moss covered branches, huge magical green trees and fluttering birds. That night, the stars were so close we felt as tall as gods with our lofty heads caught within a dizzying crystal chandelier of stars. In this crystalline blaze it is understandable that the Inca’s were drawn to the mysterious voids in between which, like rocks in a great river, gave from to their astrological signs. Not attuned to the heavenly beauty we were soon hypnotised by the celestial lights and borne by the currents of the Milky Way to a realm of dreams filled with blazing supernovas, winking crystals, burning suns, serpent tailed comments, watery-eyed planets and astrological beasts. Finally even this dreamscape receded like a shattered mirror sinking into a dark sea as the Serpent dragged us down into the Underworld.