The Trek to Macchu Picchu. It has to be my highlight to date. Tough, challenging but with the best group I could ever have hoped for. I have to admit the Inkas also contributed somewhat to the total amazement I found myself in about 50 times per day. They were tough, clever cookies.
So this is how it works. We arrive at the ´passport control´ to get onto the Inka Trail to head to Macchu Picchu. Only 200 people a day are allowed so its booked up months in advance. You can carry your own gear, or handily, you can hire a porter to carry it for you (I opted for the former you´ll be surprised to hear). Yes, this seems to be an acceptable practice in Peru. I can hardly imagine hiking in France and requesting a Frenchman to carry my stuff for a small fee. I think we know what the response would be.
We set off on day 1, andulating through the lower levels of the andes, climbing slowly, led by our sometimes camp guide, Danielle. Yes, thats supposedly an acceptable boys name?! We quickly learned how this porter setup works. In essence, 18 porters and 2 cooks, dressed conspicuously as an Ikea or KwikFit sponsored football team carry all the food, supplies, tents etc. As you are trying to catch a breath and prevent yourself from vomitting from mountain sickness, climbing up and up, they run, yes, run, past you with what can only be described as sufficient supplies on their back to feed Vannessa Feltz for a couple of days. Then, as you wearily arrive into camp, they have set up all the tents, cooked your lunch, setup wash bowels and clap and woop as you fall into camp. Yes, after all that, they clap you. Soooo the wrong way round.
So I had survived Day 1, but only just. Whilst concentrating so hard on the climb (no Joe McElderly jokes please) I let out a huge squeel and jumped into the air, almost falling off the mountain to my certain death. I swore it was a puma coming at me, other witnesses (mistakenly) suggest it was a chicken.
Day 2 was steep climbs up to 4200m in blazing sun, then a descent in a hailstorm. Mortifyingly I had to resort to using a poncho. Not happy. The ruins we saw on day 1 were dwarfed by those on day 2, royal pallaces that had been deserted during the Spanish Invasion. The Spanish had never found the Royal Inka Trail to Macchu Picchu, and the route, the pallaces, and the sanctuary itself laid undisturbed and abandoned until 1911. Day 2 ended with Rum Teas and collapsing into bed by 8pm, again after the ritual of being offered popcorn, tea, and coca leaves as an afternoon break. Our two Canadians couldnt work out why they werent sleeping, I suggested it might have something to do with the cocaine based tea they were drinking before bed. It seems in the Andes, even 55yr old Canadians partake in cocaine.
Day 3, with a 5am start, and as ever, an enormous amount of food set us up for views I hadnt quite expected, looking across at where Macchu Pichhu was hidden, surronded by four mountains, with terraced pallaces with no other visitors present, that we could explore, and for a short while, claim as our own.
The final day started with my now favourite breakfast, pancakes with Fanny Jam. Yes, Fanny Jam. You will be pleased to hear this brand also markets their own range of tinned tuna. Mmmmmm. Followed by Milo and coffee. Heaven.
Walking through the Sun Gate at dawn, clouded in mist, and then descending in the sanctuary of Macchu Picchu was amazing. Crazy to think they built this on a mountain top, with shear edges, over 500 years ago. Just breathtaking. Spending 4 days with such a worldy diverse and funny group was a riot. Couldnt have asked for more. Certainly will miss Peru. Gold Star.
