machu picchu

Machu Picchu is Quechan (the Inca language) for Old Peak. Building work on the ancient lost city of the Inca´s is said to have begun around 1440. It was 'discovered' in 1911 by the American scholar-maverick, Hiram Bingham. He soon ran off with lots of artifacts which to this the day the Peruvian government is trying to recover. There are many competing theories as to what function the city served but I will stick with the one that the Peruvian academics believe, it was a country pleasure retreat for the Inca nobility. No one is quite sure why it was abandoned.

It is thought that one of the reasons why the Spanish were unaware of the existence of Machu Picchu was the nature of the access roads to the city. They were designed for humans not horses or carts. Moreover, the trail is ardous and demanding as it traverses many mountains. There are three mountain passess, of which the hightest is 4200 metres above sea level. Oxygen is in short supply and the trail itself is a series of rocks and boulders. At best, it is uneven and the going is rough, it is a stairway.

The day before I embarked on the Inca Trail I spent time exploring the Sacred Valley before ending up for the night in a town called Ollantaytambo. This is the site of another excellent example of Inca urban planning. It was a fortress and an administrative centre. In the town below, I acquired a ridiculously oversized bush hat, a walking stick and a great big bag of coca leaves. Okay, some clarifications required on the last acquisition. It is perfectly legal here and in Bolovia, Chile and Equador. It´s a cultural, religious and social thing that is powerfully entrenched in the indigneous peoples way of life. They say it has the potency of equivalent to a strong cup of coffee. It is consumed by wrapping about ten leaves together around a little ball of black ball of ash resin. This acts as a catalyst. You stuff it in the back of your gob, between the teeth and the gum. Let it simmer for 10 minutes. Then chew for a while (tastes awful at first) and extract the juice. After 30 minutes, the exercise is complete and you spit out the mush. Soon you crave a good old punch up with a Spanish conquistador!

We were taken to our start point the following morning. Passports checked and stamped (yes, stamped). The trekking group consisted of nine gringos, one guide and twelve porters. The gringo contingent was made up of five from my tour group, three trainee doctors and two trainee dentists. Not a bad arrangement really in case of a toothache or a bout of illness. The porters are the local farmers and they carry loads of up twenty kilos (tents, cookers, food...you name it) and run the whole way. This is to ensure that everything is ready when the panting gringos arrive at the main stopping points for lunch and camping. The gringo´s need carry nothing except their conscious. To watch these guys is amazing. They´re quite small in stature but boy, it never ceased to amaze me the sheer weight and bulk of stuff they could carry. The guy who carried the cooker deserves special merit. The guy who carried two tents and five trays of eggs was great for comedy value. He was very careful but still swift.

I had conditioned myself as to what lay ahead so the first day seemed easy to me. I tended to get in front of the group (but not the running porters) as I found it better to trek to my own pace. The gradients were gentle and the views spectacular. I was mindful though that looking down was a good thing to do as the trail itself is very uneven and it offers many opportunities to fall over. So it was a balancing act between looking down and looking up. The first day is about 13km and passes the old ruins of Llaqtapata, an agricultural centre. We arrived at the camp site in the evening and everything was prepared for us. Oh, the food these porters knocked up was nothing short of excellent. After dinner I found a place for a cold shower and soon fell asleep in my own tent.

A 7am rise the next day for what was billed as the hardest day. The Dead Womens Pass being the highest pass. The gradient was quite steep so I stuffed a plantation worths of coca leaves in my mouth and pressed on. The walking stick was pretty helpful in getting leverage up the steps. Some being a foot and half in height. It was damn cold in the morning so a steady and purposeful pace was needed. By late afternoon I was pleased to be the first to reach the pass. I waited a good while for the others to catch up. Had a few smokes to celebrate. I soon acquired the name `mountain goat´. Could be worse I suppose. The trouble with going up, is the going down. The knee joints feel like they would shatter. But I got to the campsite without injury. I wish my tent did too. The door zipper broke and I froze with overnight with the wind seemingly funneling all its might through the door.

Day three was freezing to begin with. But the discomfort was soon dispelled by another exellent meal and some fantastic views. Today would involve the remaining passess. So I cracked on. I found I was making more distance between myself and the main group but I was quite happy with this as talking is a waste of precious oxygen at this altitude and I enjoyed savouring the views in silent reverance. I reached both passess well ahead of the others passing a number of old ruins. The camping site on day three afforded us hot showers and the availability of beer. That was very nice. Also, it would be the evening when something called the 'ceremony of porters' takes place. Briefly, they line up, sing us a song and then we give them tips!! Proscribed tips, I may add, according to their place in the pecking order. I have no problem with that. But I and two other guys chipped in to buy each of them a beer. I stubbled back to my tent to realise I was still in possession of the one with the broken door. Given that there are some seven tents I felt unlucky to have choosen the broken one again. But I wasn´t too bothered. The beer in my belly kept me warm that night.

So it was the final day. To see Machu Picchu at sunrise. We were summoned from our sleep at 4am. A two hour trek through a dark trail almost in single file with countless others. As a matter of honour I ensured I was the first to reach the Sun Gate. This is a ruin perched over the site and offers a wonderful vista of Machu Picchu. Then a trek down the mountain side for another hour and into Machu Picchu itself. The sunrise didn't quite crack up to the billing as it was quite misty. But it was a good time to be there as the area is relatively deserted. Just the four day trekker mob. The real herd arrives at 6am and later. And I mean, a huge herd.

The ironic thing is that after spending four days walking to get there, I was satisfied with two hours of walking around Machu Picchu. I can't quie explain that one. I would have expected myself to linger there. That said, two hours seemed perfectly adequate. Machu Picchu was always the declared highlight of my round the world tour thing and I was not disappointed in anyway. It fully justified all the countless daydreams I have had of one day being able to see the ancient lost city of the Inca's with my own eyes.