Machooo Picchoooo

Having seen umpteen photos of Machu Picchu in all its misty glory, either online or from other peoples’ adventures, I was afraid that our journey to the old Inca site would ultimately end in somewhat of an anti-climax; that I would just not be as impressed as I’d hoped when I actually saw it for myself. But thankfully, I was proved very much in the wrong!

Our longest bus journey yet, 18 hours, brought us to Cusco. Not that bad, considering we had full cama seating, meaning 170° reclining seats wide enough for quite a fat person in a little compartment on the lower floor of the bus, separated from the rest by a little door, that made you feel like you were flying business class…which I have never done by the way. We had a few movies, some hot food which, on the airplane theme very closely resembled plane food and after yet more Valium (Kev took 4 this time, I think he has a problem….) we dozed off to a restful enough sleep.  Once we arrived in Cusco and got to our hostel, The Hitchhikers Backpackers Hostel, we had ourselves a wander around the very beautiful city, a mix of Inca and Colonial architecture and immediately began seeking out information on the various treks to Machu Picchu. We were informed that the Salkantay Trek, and 4-5 day hike through monstrous mountain terrain was off due to the consistent rain over recent days. This news came with a mixture of disappointment and intrigue, as we had our hearts set on doing this trek, yet we had also been told about the more “gentle” and more varied trek called the Jungle Trek. This trek was very much piquing my interest with its promises of river rafting, zip lining to name but a few activities. And possibly the lure of there being no camping involved, purely hostels. Having met up with our travel buddy Clarence, we decided on a company (there are hundreds, all promising the same thing!) and handed over the USD$253 which was an all-inclusive price – all activities, all accommodation, most meals, entrance to Machu Picchu and the climb of Huaynapicchu. Not sure whether or not we were being ripped off, we set ourselves up for a 6.30am wake-up the next morning. One would thus think that a night on the booze was not on the cards, but we found ourselves propping up the bar of Paddy’s Bar until the wee hours….

Day 1 – Sporting a hangover that would floor a bull, we reluctantly arose the next morning and met Rene, our eccentric local guide, who brought us our van, complete with mountain bikes on top, ready for our first adventure. Here we met some of our companions on the trek, Eli from Paraguay and her Aussie boyfriend Nick, Diego from Mexico and Angel, a man from the Basque country of Spain. Later on we were joined by another Nick, this time from Germany and another German, a girl called Kathrin. This completed our posse and off we set towards the town of Ollantaytambo in the Inca Sacred Valley. As it was a 3 hour bus journey, the conversation and jokes soon started flying as we drove up beautiful winding mountain roads, past waterfalls, ruins and thriving farmland. As we ascended further towards an altitude of over 4000m, we became surrounded by mist and rain. This, we thought would made the bike ride back down the mountain an exhilarating, if not scary experience, as there isn’t much to protect you from the hundred-odd foot drop to your left! Decked out in waterproof ponchos, hi-vis vests, helmets, elbow pads and knee pads, looking very much like a group of school kids on tour we set off on our 15km downhill cycle. Dodgy gears and brakes were rampant, so despite the awesome views as we descended down through the clouds, we were all very happy when the journey came to an end in a little village outside Santa Maria. Having free-wheeled through stream after stream and through some muddy roadworks, we were wet down to our socks and were all sporting mud-freckles. Back into dry clothes, we were brought to Santa Maria, the first stop on our trip. We had lunch and were supposed to do some river rafting after that, but we were told that due to the river swell thanks to torrential rain of late, the river posed a bit too much of a threat to us novices, so we were promised that we’d be brought out the next morning when it had reduced somewhat. What else to do then but to go knacker-drinking in the basketball court of the local school, and make a general nuisance of ourselves. An impromptu night of pool and shots of Inca Pussies, Kryptonites and some flavour of Absolut Vodka followed before we fell into bed. I say fell, and mean it quite literally – I fell down two steps coming out of the loo and hobbled into bed convinced I had broken my ankle.

Before the mountain biking madness began

Santa Maria

Day 2 – A short, sharp knock on the door far too early the next morning signalled the beginning of our rafting adventure. I stumbled my way down town for brekkie and in the pissings of rain we were brought to our rafting destination. Sure enough, the rain swollen river was the colour of diarrhoea and was raging more than an angry swarm of bees. I felt that my life jacket would only be enough to briefly keep me afloat in the event of falling overboard, but I thought “to hell with it”; may as well get wet rafting, than get slowly soaked while trekking the 8 hour trek that was ahead of us. Plucking up the courage from God knows where, we were coached in rafting commands and before long we were paddling our way over Class 3 rapids and swells. The scenery en route was stunning, and our paddling skills were being keenly monitored by the dozens of workmen on the shore who were rebuilding roads and bridges after the devastation caused by the floods of 2010. Being water-whipped in the face and coasting over stomach-churning rapids, we were wet, but very, very happy at our experience; the only drawback being the loss of one of each of our flip-flops, yet Nick managed to fish out both of his. I resigned myself to the fact that my precious Havianas were making their way towards some backwater where some 10-year olds with a fishing net would have themselves some treasure.

After the rafting, missing a flip flop!

After drying off and changing, the next step was the trek through the mountains, past banana trees and coca plants. We stopped off in a jungle shack to get a lesson on fruits, plants, to taste some chocolate, to get our faces painted with the orange goo from the inside of some plant and to dress up in traditional costumes to the point where we all looked pretty frickin’ ridiculous. The trek wasn’t exactly tough, just long and tiring and with a sprained ankle, swollen up to the point where I had a “cankle”, it was a bit of a challenge. The views were awesome as we walked along narrow little pathways on the sides of steep mountains, with the rapids of the Rio Urubamba carving out the valley floor below us. There were several bride-crossings involved, some on rickety bridges that looked like they wouldn’t support as much as a hairy llama and others that were sturdy enough, but wobbled like hell if you didn’t walk exactly in the middle. En route, Rene pointed out some spiders, only as big as a small fist to be fair but enough to send my skin crawling, some millipedes and painted beetles which were so brightly coloured and beautiful. Our final river crossing was a pulley system, where an ancient looking man pulled you across the river on what can only be described as a glorified bucket suspended on a wire cable. Our treat at the end of Day 2 however was 1.5 hours of soaking our tired, weary bodies in the natural hot spring baths of Santa Teresa, our second stop; possibly the most heaven-sent feeling after walking until your feet are blistered and you’re just covered in a layer of grime and sweat. Nice. The air was thick with the “oohs” and “aahs” of all the other weary travellers and sniggers from the locals who were either perving on the ladies or just taking the piss out of us gringos.

Epic hiking!

That night, post dinner, we were treated to some revolting local hooch to “help digest our meal”. Three shots in total, one called Inca Tequila, which I believe is stronger than Poitin, one with some curdled-looking yellow stuff with chilies in it and the third was just sugar and water, designed so that you don’t throw up after shot # 2. Thus, after some adult drinking games to put it gently, the night ended with Kev forgetting where we were staying and German Nick and I treating the club to a dance rendition of Gangham Style. Enough said.

Day 3 – With the grace of God, and Rene’s good humour, we were granted a later wake up on the third morning in time for zip lining – what better way to shake a hangover than throwing yourself off a mountain and over a river valley while wearing a nappy-like harness and hanging on for dear life. My fear of heights didn’t really kick in here surprisingly; I was shaking, but that was more so due to the aftermath of the Inca Tequila I’d imagine. There were 5 lines, the last one the longest at 510m long. The real challenge was the suspended rope bridge we were required to walk along afterwards, being connected to the cable “handrails” by some rope and carabiners. Wobbly as hell and scary considering that to look at your feet to see where you’re going, you’re also looking at the hefty drop below you through the trees and down to the jungle floor. Once this challenge was over, we were comforted by the knowledge that all that was required of us that day was a 3-hour hike to the town of Aguas Calientes – the Machu Picchu stopover town. We had a bite to eat, what we could manage on our dodgy stomachs at the train stop of Hidroelectrica and walked the rest of the way to Aguas Calientes along the train tracks. Memories of the movie “Stand By Me” came to mind as we joked and sang our way along the tracks and jumped into the hedgerows as the Peru Rail trains alerted us to their presence on the tracks. Aguas Calientes is a pretty, charming little town surrounded by colossal mountains and situated on the raging river, which was all but washed away in the 2010 floods. The town was pretty much built purely for tourism to Machu Picchu, as the ruins are literally hidden away just above your head as you look up and to the east. For the first time in 3 days we had a HOT shower and took it easy that night with the knowledge that our trek to Machu Picchu would begin at 4.30am the next morning.

Kev, giving it his best zip line

Day 4 – Eli kindly knocked on the door to wake us up the next morning. Bleary-eyed and grumpy, we walked in the dark towards the 1785 steps, steep and uphill towards the entrance of Machu Picchu. After an hour of huffing, puffing, and sweating out all the previous days’ alcohol intake, we arrived at the entrance where there was already a queue forming. We looked at the travellers arriving by bus with an over-whelming sense of resentment as we had to change our tops as they were so sweat-soaked. If only sweating profusely would mean that I’d lose some of this beer belly I wouldn’t mind so much….

We met our guide Miguel (Rene had to hot-step it back to Cusco that morning) at the entrance and he described the mind boggling history of the ruins as we walked around, peering into the mist, watching the majesty of the whole site appear before our eyes. The best views of the day were at around 9-10am when the clouds cleared enough to see the entire site, yet some wispy clouds remained, clinging to the sides of the ruins, adding to the mysterious beauty of the whole place. At 10am, we took ourselves up the steep mountain of Huaynapicchu – that big cone shaped mountain in the back of all those classic photos. There’s such an amazing view to be had, once you conquer the perilous climb, not only of Machu Picchu itself (which appears to resemble a condor from that height), but also the 360° view of the entire mountain range and the river valley that surrounds the sacred site. It’s easy to see why the Incas treated this place with such reverence; the natural beauty here is breath-taking and all you can hear is the muted roar of the river below as it winds its way around the valley. Walking through the ruins, the masonry is something to be venerated, considering the sheer size and weight of the white granite stones used to build the houses and temples, which fit so tightly together that there was no need for mortar. How they managed to carve these stones 700 years ago so that they fit so perfectly is beyond me, and I don’t think the guides know either! So, therein began the running joke that it was all aliens… We got soaked to the skin later on that afternoon, walking to see the Inca Bridge (2 planks of wood over a small cliff drop), so we gladly paid the USD$9 bus ticket fare back to Aguas Calientes, to warmth and dry clothing, all be it during a power cut.

the ruins emerging from the morning mist

The classic shot!

We departed Aguas Calientes that evening on the train back to Ollantaytambo with huge smiles of satisfaction on our faces. We had done it; completed the 4 day journey, taken the photos we had coveted since we arrived in South America and we had a bloody good time doing it too! We made some great friends, had some good laughs and did some really fun activities so that it seemed more like an adventure than an arduous 4 day pilgrimage to the site. Considering how wrecked, sore, weak and blistered we were after our trek, we wondered if we’d ever have made it through the tough Salktantay Trek after all. Back to Cusco very satisfied and ready for a warm bed and well-deserved Cuba Libre!

Where we stayed in Cusco:

The Hitchhikers Backpackers Hostel 

How much?: $15 per person, per night, private room, private bathroom.

Pirwa Hostel http://www.pirwahostelsperu.com/

How much?: $12.50 per person, per night, private room, private bathroom.

Company we used for the Jungle Trek: Inca World Peru (in Pirwa hostel)

How much?: $253 all-inclusive.