Peru – The Inca trail to Machu Picchu – Part 2

I had a fitful night’s sleep accompanied by plenty of shivering. My sleeping bag was horrible, the tent was too short and the thin mattress did nothing to prevent the rocks from digging into my back. I woke up tired, wondering how I was going to manage the hardest day of hiking in my current state.

However, a quick one-two surprise got me back up on my feet in no time. One: coca tea. Our porters woke us up with it and once you drank it the cold in your bones melted away. Two: we unzipped the tent door and the view took our breath away. We didn’t see the mountains too well at night when we came in. They were massive: they looked like they were entirely made of sand with ice at the top. Like a weird coffee-based dessert.

Our spirits up, we dressed quickly and headed out for breakfast. I wasn’t sore at all thanks to all my training. One of our group, James, had come down with diarrhea. I didn’t envy him. But James had trained the hardest of all of us coming into this hike: hauling Tide bottles up the hills of Seattle. If anybody could make it through the hardest day while being ill it was him. So all in all we were in decent shape.

The next 4 hours were steps, steps and more steps. And they were big and uneven, worn by years of exposure. The last thing you wanted to do was come down at an odd angle and sprain your ankle. So we proceeded with caution.

I always account for the worst in my planning. So I didn’t think day 2 would be enjoyable at all. More like something to get past so that I can enjoy the rest of the hike. But looking back, it was much more enjoyable than day 1. You’ve left the villages and dung behind, and you truly start to appreciate the Andes. We crossed a herd of LLama on the trail. That was quite exciting.

We reached a clearing which was the final break before dead woman’s pass. I could see it in the distance: it gets its name because it looks like the breast of a woman  facing the sky. So it gives the impression of a dead woman lying down. Yeah, I thought it was a stretch too. Everybody around us was just calling it “the boob”.

Raul gave us a muster before we attempted to make it. This was the highest part of our hike. A giddy 13,800 feet. We had felt bushed by the end of the last climb but again, we all made speedy recoveries. Raul gave us a flower extract to inhale, that would open up our lungs for the challenge ahead. Joshin joked that it was Condor pee.

As we made our way up, the landscape beneath us looked positively alien. There were huge cuts: they looked like a godzilla-sized beast had been gouging the earth looking for worms. I breathed heavily on the way, Raul would go up and down the file , providing encouragement and lightening the mood whenever he felt people were going to give up.

Tomi was the first in our group to make it to the top. He had snapped pictures all the way: the guy was a machine. I don’t remember much of it other than focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, and stopping at one point to take pictures of the boob. We all have very few pictures of this part of the hike: we were too tired to take any. Here’s one of the few: it gives you an idea of the kind of view we had.

But once we got to the summit it was celebration time. This was the tipping point in our trek; if you made it this far you should easily be able to go all the way. We took shots of ourselves jumping as high as we could up there. We finally got to see what the locals called the “cloud forest”. Behind Dead Woman’s Pass you could see clouds stretch away beneath you as far as the eye can see. Just like when a plane makes its descent for landing.

After the euphoria wore off, we realized we actually had another 5 hours of hiking to do. Today’s hike would see us summit 2 mountains: the first was DWP, but there was a second, smaller one. We started the climb down to our lunch camp. Having exhausted our legs on the climb up, our descent was slow; and we stopped for many photos. We could see our lunch spot in the distance, and we kept getting scenic views as we turned corners. I think my threshold for views that took my breath away went up during that descent.

I didn’t get enough time to have a siesta during lunch. But when we set out, I found that I was a lot less tired than the previous day. Perhaps the siesta actually makes you more tired since it lets your body wind down. During our second climb, we stopped at an Inca “runner’s outpost”. The Incans built their structures in a trapezoidal shape to make them seismically stable. This outpost was also curved so it gave good views of the valley on all sides, so it looked very alien.

We were cheated by several signs on the way. Each time we saw one we thought we had reached the top. Since the sun was setting, we felt either too hot or too cold depending on whether we were hiking in the sun or shade. Having been spoiled by DWP and nice views all day, we were all a little touchy; wanting to get to camp and relax. We saw a couple of interesting looking lakes on the way, but we’d always get our hopes up thinking it was the end of the uphill climb: so we were disappointed when we saw them.

Finally we made it: I crunched on a power bar and lay down in the sun for a bit. The rest of the day is a blur as I look back. We headed down, and it got seriously dark and cloudy. We checked out another Inca site. Our guide told us it was optional and it was a tricky flight of stairs to the site with a steep drop off to one side. But it was rewarding; a much bigger site than the ones we had seen earlier. We had no idea that we would see much more massive ones the next day.

By now we had our flashlights out, and we trekked in the dark to our camp. Now that the anxiety of the hardest part of the hike was behind us, moods were much lighter at camp. We pretty much had the place to ourselves: most other teams stopped at our lunch spot and called it a day. Llamapath, along with a couple others, front load the trip by making you climb both mountains in a single day. This makes for a very easy and enjoyable day 3 and 4 as we found out.

The night was magical. Raul gave us a tour of the dark constellations of the Southern Hemisphere, and we ooh’ed and aah’ed our way through them. I made sure I picked up a different sleeping bag this time, and we made arrangements to sleep diagonally in our tent so my legs would fit. I doubt it would have made a difference though. I was so exhausted I slept like a baby Alpaca.

Peru - Cuzco

My wife Divya just blogged about our time in Peru before we hit the Inca trail. This covers Cuzco and the sacred valley. Check it out here.

Peru – The Inca trail to Machu Picchu – Part 1

It started several months ago. I looked at a picture of Machu Picchu and decided to put it in my bucket list. My friend Tomi, an avid hiker, did me one better. “Let’s hike there!” The plan was set, volunteers were called for. Friends from all over pledged their allegiance and we were making plans in earnest before we knew it. Reality decided to upset the plans and timing for some of us, and by the time we started training for the hikes we had a roster of 6. Along the way, we learned about altitude sickness, heard scare stories of friends who had tried the trail and turned back. We gritted our teeth, hit the trails around Seattle harder and faster, rain or shine, and the gyms on the week days: hoping we’re doing enough for the challenge up ahead.

By the time we sat down with our guides in Cuzco city at 10000 ft for the briefing, we were bouncing between nervousness and anticipation. Landing in the city hadn’t been a fun experience: we all found it hard to breathe, so we had serious doubts about hiking up here. But over the next couple of days we settled in, and loved it. It reminded me of hill stations back home: Ooty was the closest, although that might just be because Ooty too had smoke spewing automobiles that threatened to ruin it. For more on our days in Cuzco, check out Divya’s post.

We woke up at 3 am the next day and headed to the bus. One of us had an upset stomach but for the most part we were fine, just sleepy. Our roster had already been whittled down to 5: one of our friends had visa issues and hadn't made it. We were lumped in with others to make a total group of 11. We cast each other a bleary eye and went right back to sleep on the bus ride.

After a short stop for breakfast, we finally hit kilometer 82: the start  of the trail proper. I opened my eyes to find us ringed by mountains, it already seemed like we were on top of the world: were we really going to go higher? Porters had set up bases all around us, a football match was already underway. My mind briefly wandered to South Africa: a world away the greatest sporting event on the planet was happening. I could have been curled up on a couch with a beer watching it right now. Was I crazy? Was I so short on time that I had to do this right now? Couldn’t it wait? I looked up and around once more. No.

We ran between train tracks and made our way to the starting checkpoint. To do the Inca Trail you must have a qualified guide, and we had 2. Raul was our main guide, Joshin his assistant, as well as the Andean doctor on the hike. He carried the oxygen tank that should help with any projectile vomiting we hit on the way. I had been popping Diamox the past couple of days. No signs of illness yet.

Day one was vistas, dung and flies. In that order. We got our passports stamped, crossed the bridge and began the trek. We were following the valley on one side, the Urubamba river ran down its center. On the other side were the train tracks and the feet of the mountains. Veronica was a little behind us: she was the second highest peak in the Cuzco region. She towered majestically, the sun reflecting off her snow clad sides, a plume of smoke rising from her top.

There are several villages on the way, a steady stream of donkeys were being shepherded between them. Hence the dung, and where there’s dung there’s bugs. We were hiking what our guide called Inca flats: more or less level ground with a gentle ascent. It was hot sweaty work, but every now and then a faint breeze would come by and our troubles would go away. We faced our first challenge, a constant heavy ascent for a few minutes: I was winded at the end but recovered quickly. It seemed like all the training was paying off.

Right after the ascent we were rewarded with our first major Inca site of the trip: Patallacta. We walked over flat meadows to a windy, rocky outcrop. We sat down and rested against our backpacks while Raul and Joshin took turns talking about the site. My head drowned  them out, as I took in the valley below. All I could listen to was the gusts of wind. I stared down at the site and wondered how much any of this had changed in 500 years. I heard them say something about how the Spanish destroyed their heritage, and I pondered again about the similarity between us Indians and these Andeans. Proud, old, creative people bearing the scars of a recent subjugation. A lot of resentment. A lot of talk of what might have been if the invaders had not destroyed us. Were we really so blameless? Perhaps we would have visited the same evils on our neighbors: perhaps we did just that at an earlier time. History is so complex, legend so uncomplicated by fact. Maybe the view was making me wax a little too philosophical.

We hit the camp for lunch: the porters had already set up a food tent, given us hot water and soap to wash our hands in. I felt guilty, accepting such treatment from people who had essentially gotten here in half the time. It was eased a little by the fact that we had chosen Llamapath: a company that prides itself in treating its porters well. They were the first to give their porters health insurance and good gear for the hike. The rest, belonging to big name brands like Gap Adventures were not so lucky: the porters were responsible for their own gear, so they made the trek in whatever they could afford. Had I been born anywhere else, this could easily have been my plight. The lunch bell put such heavy thoughts out of my mind.

It was a four course meal. Cooked by a man sitting in a tent drawing water from a stream. Amazing! After lunch, we had a short siesta, then set off for the rest of the hike. I found it hard to shake off the sluggishness that had set in during lunch. Add to that, the trail was getting harder. We reached a checkpoint where out guides stayed behind to fill out paperwork. We slowly trudged the remaining hour to our camp site. I felt like I was wading in a swimming pool.

Finally we reached the camp. The twilight made the mountains look still and somber. We washed up and had a little “Meet the Porters” ceremony. They were young and old, but they all looked like they had endured a lifetime of hard labor. I reminded myself to be thankful for the life I get to live, once more. Over dinner, our guide talked about Peru’s recent political history. I have to say, this was my favorite part of the whole trip. Sitting in that tent with a day of hiking behind me, I had soaked up enough of the local culture to feel I could appreciate this story. And Raul was a master story teller. He told us of the rise and fall of Fujimori, how he had lifted the country out of the backwaters they had been relegated to and built a tourism industry while fighting terrorists. By the time the story ended - with Fujimori running to Japan because he had been found to be smuggling cocaine, colluding with the very people he had spent a decade fighting – I was baffled: can power corrupt a person so absolutely?

With these heavy thoughts I hit the sack. Today was hard, but tomorrow was going to be do or die.