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I arrived at the location at about six in the evening. There was precisely enough time to scout the terrain and to determine the place of assault using all the volume of light provided by twilight. Soon the expected ford had been found. Awaiting for the late night, which would cover up my dark deeds, I surrendered to sleep on the shore of a mountain river which I was going to cross.
Midnight, the beginning of a new day - the very time to start the way to a cherished goal. With my clothes packed into a plastic bag I set off to a fight with the natural force. Two wooden poles were helping me to feel the river bottom till one of them was absorbed by the flow in the middle. And right there the depth below the waist ended. Dangerously chilling water and a lack of time for meditation cut my options to one desperate leap over or into a depth towards the far bank. And so, I did it. Drenched, but unharmed I enjoyed every second lying on the rocks and respiring.
On the way alongshore to the guarded bridge and the beginning of the road to the top I had to hide behind boulders from the flashlights of security guards awakened by barking dogs on the opposite bank. But an opaque darkness during the subsequent climb through the jungle to the desired road became much worse than those lights. And all of this was to meet one more surprise there. Two guardians were talking about something just thirty meters away from the place where I had jumped out to the road. Having plunged back to jungle I waited until my obstacles moved away.
Finally I started my ascent by an unguarded part of the traditional path until the turn to the secret trail which was a bypass of the checkpoint on the top. But after less than twenty meters walking that trail I came to rest against the steep wall which made me think that I had missed the right track. In any obscure situation it is worth to go to sleep, especially in an absolute darkness of jungle at four in the morning.
Woken up by the voices of tourists climbing the road, I rushed to search my home stretch. And in half an hour I had already got through the hole in the fence bordering the lower terraces of Machu Picchu. The jacket hung on the fence. It was a jacket of a friend who had done the same path two days ago. I knew that he had left it on the ground next to the fence. Apparently the secret trail had got popular during the recent nights. Though, who knows, maybe it was a shenanigan of careful spirits of this mysterious place.