The road to Machu Picchu

I'm sitting in my hostel in Lima on my last day in South America. I haven't really done much here. Most people I've previously talked to about the city has said it's a bit boring and there's nothing to really do. That may be partially true, but I think my motivation levels after Cusco and the Sacred Valley is at a low; it's time now to just relax. Besides, Lima is constantly cloudy and hasn't really caught my attention in a touristy sense. The food has been pretty good, at least.

But the whole point of Peru was always the Inca Trail. Indeed, it was what the entire South American portion of my trip was leading to. Lima is, and I guess was always going to be, an epilogue, a bridging point for the next leg.

Puno

Apart from a couple of French backpackers overstaying their visa and having to pay a tax to Bolivian immigration, the crossing to Peru at the border town of Desaguadero was uneventful. I even got my bolivianos swapped for soles at the correct rate once on the other side.

After arriving in Puno, I caught a motorcycle taxi to my hostel, checked in, and had some arroz chaufa, the Peruvian take on Chinese fried rice. With only half a day in the city, I settled on minimal sightseeing. Fortunately, the spot I picked, a short but challenging hike up to Mirador Kuntur Wasi, afforded some great views of Puno and Lake Titicaca.

I've been travelling with a weird mix of thrift and splurge, depending on how I'm feeling. For the journey from Puno to Cusco, I decided on the latter and bought a ticket on Peru Rail's Andean Explorer. The train takes longer than the bus but is much more comfortable, includes some meals, and also has some on-board entertainment.

I'll admit that the scenery on the ride was not as exciting as I was hoping it would be, especially compared to the tour between Salta and Cafayate, but it was nice being able to relax in a luxury train car for once.

The price of the ride made me think about the disparity between tourists and locals; here was a train full of tourists who have paid for this luxury service while the people in the towns and villages it passed may not even make that much money in a month. But then I saw the smiles of the people, especially the children, as the train passed, they waving, me waving back. Perhaps I was thinking of it the wrong way.

Cusco

In La Paz, I couldn't find any chicha de jora, an Andean fermented corn drink, so I made a point of finding a chicheria in Cusco. Following vague leads from the Internet, I naturally got lost as soon as I stepped onto the streets of Cusco. Even after finding my bearings, I could not find anywhere serving this drink.

The city was bustling with people, and was the busiest of anywhere I'd been on the trip with the possible exception of Buenos Aires. Its attraction of tourists no doubt contributed to this.

The next day, after a quick stop at an optometrist for new glasses, I continued my quest for chicha. Going in completely the wrong direction, I took a break for lunch at Waynapata Café Cultural, a nice little cafe uphill from the main square that served cheap, tasty food. The friendly lady serving the food pointed me towards a chicheria she knew, so it was a very fortuitous stop for me.

The chicheria was a very dingy looking one, patronised by locals. I asked the server for a chicha de jora, which cost me one sol for a large glass, called a caporal. It may be a low-alcohol drink, but it had a certain heaviness to it, and the corn flavour came through in a good way. There was also a slight tartness to it, which I found pleasant. Sadly, that place was the only chicheria I drank at during my trip.

I planned to spend just over a week in Cusco, and the main reason for that was more Spanish lessons. These ones, at the non-profit Amigos Spanish School, were held in small groups and were a lot better structured than the ones I took in Salta. It was also great to chat to the other students of the school during breaks (in Spanish or English, depending on how much our heads were hurting); there was a nice camaraderie there. I even attended a cooking class that taught how to cook ají de gallina, a tasty creamed chicken dish.

Having an entire week in Cusco meant I got to try a lot of different food. I had alpaca steak at Uchu, which was similar to a lean beef; a good pizza (my first good one in South America) at La Bodega 138, who even had craft beer (Sierra Andina Don Juan Porter from Huaraz); and a tasty Andean stew at Inkazuela. But what was probably my favourite meal in the city was a cheap (less than two Australian dollars) milanesa de pollo, a battered and fried chicken akin to a schnitzel, at one of the many places at the San Pedro market. The market had so many kitchens serving the same food and I must have picked just the right one because no other milanesa de pollo I had after that even came close to being as good.

The day before my final class, I had a quiet drink with Steve, one of the students at Amigos. This, of course, turned into a big night out, and my throat was hurting the next day. It didn't help that I woke up early to listen to the Hawks match the next day. It would only get worse, and just as my tour was about to start.

The Sacred Valley

The first day of my Inca Trail tour with G Adventures began with a van ride towards the Sacred Valley. We stopped off at Caccacollo, an Andean village that G help out through Planeterra. It was nice to learn a little bit about modern Andean life, including where the guinea pigs (to be eaten later) were kept; the process of dyeing, spinning, and weaving with wool; and how to tell a llama from an alpaca (alpacas have less wool on their necks).

The next stop was Písac, an impressive Incan ruin near the village of the same name with some agricultural terraces surrounding it. It was here that Sarah, one of the Australians, started to show signs of not being used to the altitude.

After a buffet lunch, we headed to Ollantaytambo, another town with Inca ruins inviting tourism, and our overnight stop. The ruins featured an incomplete temple that highlighted the impressive stonework performed by the Incan empire. On the top of one of the mountains near the ruins, a fire raged, making things a little hazy depending on the wind. It was a bit surreal looking up and seeing the fire at night.

Our tour guide Rosabeth recommended a place for dinner, which we promptly ignored in favour of more reasonable prices at a place called Sumac Mijuna Wasi. The lady seemed nice and ushered us in. Little did we know what a comedy we were walking into. After looking at the menu, half of the group left because they couldn't find anything to their liking. Those of us who stayed made our food and drink orders. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, the lady running the place came up to us and said, in Spanish slow enough that I could just understand, that the guy in the kitchen was used to cooking the set menu, not anything from the a la carte menu. When we expressed our disappointment/annoyance and asked for the bill so we could move on to another place, she panicked and assured us that our food was coming out. Maybe another fifteen or twenty minutes later, our food came out slowly, dish by dish. As I was eating my chicken, Amy, one of the Brits, noticed a cat eating leftovers next to the kitchen. How very hygienic. (Thankfully, I did not get food poisoning from this incident.) The food itself was not very tasty, and we had a hard time convincing the lady not to charge us for the food and drinks that never made it out.

Hungers not satisfied, we ended up having second dinner at another place before heading back to the hotel to rest for the next day.

Pilgrimage

The Inca Trail. As I mentioned in the beginning of the post, everything else in the tour and, I suppose, in the entire South American half of my trip, had been leading up to this; it was the blockbuster main event of a stacked card.

The group sat through an hour bus ride from Ollantaytambo to kilometre 82, prepared our duffel bags which our porters were to carry, took group photos, and queued up at the entrance for the formalities. Throughout all this, I imagine we were all a bit excited and perhaps slightly nervous or scared of what was ahead--a three-and-a-half day, 45km trek to Machu Picchu.

After what seemed like forever, we crossed the bridge and the hike began.

The first day of the trek was 12km of flats and rolling hills, with a maximum gain of about 400m. It was a training day to see if people could handle the long distance and climbs at a fairly high altitude, starting at roughly 2600 metres above sea level with camp site being at about 3000m. In terms of scenery, the highlight of the day was a view of Llaqtapata, which Rosabeth noted was the ruins of the largest Inca village before Machu Picchu.

My newly acquired flu was making this annoying--sore throat, leaky nose, and coughing probably slowed me down for the entire trek, and I may have infected a few others--but not unachievable. Sarah, however, was clearly struggling with the hike at altitude; she would end up having to turn back on the second day due to breathing problems. George from England and Philip from Northern Ireland also managed to get stomach bugs at the same time, so their energy levels were low for the first few days. The four boys from Perth, however, were storming through the terrain.

The second day was to be the toughest of the trek. It was 12km once again, but the first part was a 1200m climb up to Dead Woman's Pass, the highest pass of the whole Inca Trail at just about 4200 metres above sea level. To make things worse, what followed was about 600-700m of downhill to the campsite and lunch.

It had rained overnight and remained cloudy and misty throughout the day, which was a boon because we didn't have to deal with both the high climb and the sun; it was a good tradeoff for no nice vistas throughout the day, especially from the cloudy and cold Dead Woman's Pass.

Legs were starting to feel sore but spirits were up after successfully completing the difficult day of hiking, and even the two upset stomachs were beginning to settle. We were all getting along really well, too, which is always a plus with a big tour group.

Day three was not as demanding in terms of vertical gain, but had its own challenges. First of all, it was a 16km day of up and down. Second, it was a test for the knees, with the final descent, after lunch, being 1000m.

The cloud had cleared up a bit but my flu had not. After the initial 400m climb to the second pass of the trek, I formed a group with Jenny, a Melbournite, and Amy, collectively dubbing ourselves the Tres Amigos. We headed down to Sayaq Marka and then Qoncha Marka, two ruins on the way down before the next climb of the day, a beautiful section of the Inca Trail to Phuyupata Marka, where lunch awaited.

Our final lunch was capped off by a cake, ordered and delivered from the nearby town of Aguas Calientes, to congratulate us on making it that far. We also had a ceremony with the porters and chefs, where we all introduced ourselves in our native language and Rosabeth translated both ways. It was great to learn the names and stories of all of these people who had been carrying ridiculous weights--20kg packs, including most of our stuff--and still beating us, even the Perth boys, to the end of each day. They all did a tremendous job, and it was their hard work, as well as Rosabeth's leadership of them and guiding of us, that made the entire experience that much richer.

The 1000m descent after lunch was nicknamed "the gringo killer", notorious for mentally and physically breaking tourists with its 2800 or so steps. The Perth boys kept insisting that running down the steps was easier than taking them on slowly. With the path drier than the day before, I decided to give it a go. I managed to keep with them for a couple of minutes until my cardio finally made me stop. Still, they were right about approaching the steps that way, and I found myself more confident the entire way down.

The visit to Inti Pata was the day's sightseeing highlight for me. At one point, the porters branched off straight down to our campsite at Wiñay Wayna. Once the split happened, it became so serene descending towards the terraced ruins of Inti Pata, and exploring the site itself with seemingly nobody else there. I eventually ran into James, one of the Perth boys, and we headed down to the campsite together.

A cold shower at camp made me feel better (and colder) and soon enough it was early dinner where Rosabeth briefed us on the early start of the next day. It was also the final chance to say thanks to the porters and chefs as they were headed off to catch a very early train back to Ollantaytambo the next morning.

At stupid o'clock the next morning, we queued up at the checkpoint for two hours to ensure that we were the first group to leave for Inti Punku, the famous Sun Gate where, on a clear day, you could get a spectacular view of Machu Picchu. Once the checkpoint opened at about half past five, we all headed off at a pretty fast pace on an hour of hiking before reaching the viewpoint. Unfortunately, it had been cloudy, foggy, and drizzling all morning, and when we got to the Sun Gate all we could see was cloud. Still, it was amazing to have trekked it all the way there the hard way (we saw some people hiking up from Machu Picchu on our way down).

Once we reached Machu Picchu, we tried (and failed) to get a group photo with the ruins in the background--I will say that it may not have been photography-friendly, but the clouds did make the place seem more mystical while it hung around--before heading down to the cafe at the entrance to the area. As we walked along, I heard tour guides talking about the crazy people that hiked four days on the Inca Trail, probably as an explanation as to why we looked so knackered and dirty.

I was almost overcome by a wave of different emotions--relief probably the most prominent--as I passed through that imaginary line at the entrance of Machu Picchu, just as other tourists got their ticket stamped heading in.

We had celebratory beers (at 8 in the morning!) before heading back in for a guided tour of the city. It was really cool to explore the ruins, though my legs were not enjoying it one bit. The seats on the bus down to Aguas Calientes felt like the best thing in the world. At the town, we all had lunch then caught a train to Ollantaytambo, where a bus back to Cusco awaited.

Lima (strike three, you're out)

On the way back to Cusco, Rosabeth mentioned that there was a general strike in Peru the next day--this was getting awfully predictable--and that I may need to organise an early taxi. This was confirmed by the G Adventures representative at our hotel, who said I should probably get a taxi to the airport at 5:30 to avoid any blockades. So much for a sleep in.

I stayed way too long at the pub for dinner and drinks and spent way too long packing and sending emails, and ended up feeling like crap after four hours of sleep, so I was in no fit state to spend nine hours at a small airport, but spend nine hours at a small airport I did. A lot of people were in the same boat as I was and the place was packed, especially in the morning.

I slept most of the way to Lima, and managed to haggle for an oferta discount cab fare from a cabbie named Jesus because I didn't have enough money in my wallet.

Lima has been relaxed, like I said. I ate at Astrid y Gaston and Alfresco, both really nice fine dining places, and explored Miraflores, Barranco, and Downtown, but I don't feel like I've really done much. My biggest night of drinking was heading to a rival hostel's bar to watch the Hawks win in an ugly grand final.

Like I said, it's an epilogue.

Goodbye, South America

So, that brings us to the end of the first leg of this trip. It's been a bloody good one. I'm currently waiting for the taxi to take me to the airport and then I'm off to the USA, which should be great in a completely different way.