Cuzco and the trek

After the madness of travelling we made it to Cuzco and found a beautiful little hostel up on a hill in the hippie, artsy side of town. Cuzco proved to be the most expensive, exploitative and touristed city that we have visited yet. Since we pretty much came to Cuzco early to acclimatize for our 9 day trek (on which we would be seeing tons of ruins) we decided to skip a lot of the really touristy (and therefore expensive) sights and do some serious relaxing. We visited a museum and an old inca site or two but mostly we played cribbage and rummy and snacked in various cafes all over town. I have never been harassed so much by people trying to sell you shit in my life, plus since we were in gringo world everyone could all of a sudden understand our english...it was kind of like taking a soundproof barrier away from our conversations.

But that was almost two weeks ago now, and since then we have trekked to Machu Picchu, which seems like a much more interesting topic for a blog.

The day before our trek we had a scheduled meeting. At the meeting we are introduced to our guide Felix and the two Australians, Pat and Kate. Felix speaks decent english, but Leif, Kelly and I kind of wish he would just explain in spanish, easier to understand. Felix shows us our route on the topo map and just looking at and talking about the plan makes us all start to get giddy with anticipation. During the meeting Kelly is kind of giving Pat a funny look.
¨Do you know Brendan so-and-so?¨ she asks him?
Turns out yes, he does and Kelly knows him from the semester she spent in Australia. Yet more proof that this world is really not as big as it seems.

Day 1:
The first morning we get picked up early by a minibus where we meet three more members of our crew. The cooks, Alfredo and Tigre are sitting in the back, quiet, mysterious and there is a new gringo in the front. His name is Eric and he is from Montreal, apparently he joined in on our trek the day before, last minute. It´s hard to say exactly what it was but Eric immediately rubbed me the wrong way, and I knew that only after a few hours he would be getting on all of our nerves. We pick up the Australians at their hotel and set off on a four hour drive to the town where we will start our trek from.

We get to the town and meet our muleteer, Zeus, he is all smiles and super friendly. Felix and Zeus escort us to a small shop where the cooks are preparing our first lunch. Felix tells us it will be about 45 minutes and that we should explore the town. He then disappears for a bit (which will become a trend on the trip) and drinks some chicha with his buddies.

So we spend some time wandering around the town, getting to know each other. The Aussies are environmental scientists who work for some big company in Western Australia. Eric is a civil engineer and a bicyclist, hates rain and cold weather. All of them are on much longer trips, travelling for almost a year each. We wander to a plaza and glance off into the snow-capped, cloud-enshrouded peaks that we will be heading into in just a few hours.

When we got back lunch was ready. As most of our meals would turn out to be, we got white rice, veggies and a bit of meat. Fried goodness, french fries. Let me just say that the food was spectacular from a backcountry perspective. As we are wrapping up our lunch Felix tells us the plan and gives us a little cultural story which will become a standard practice for meals. He tells us about Chicha, the fermented corn super drink that has a bit of alcohol as a kicker. He says that people used to put babies hands in it to make it sell fast. Then he tells us that underwear was usually soaking in the bottom of the barrel as well...to make it sell faster.

Okay, it is time to get going, so we introduce ourselves formally to the rest of the crew and they start packing our stuff up on the mules.

The hiking on the first day was not too intense, we hiked up a valley towards the epic range in the near distance. Took a break and then descended very rapidly down to the Apurimac river valley, the hike was about 5 hours total, but our knees were screaming by the time we got to the bottom...too much downhill. On the first day the difference in our hiking speeds became evident. And the trend would hold for the rest of the trip. Eric, listening to radiohead, was practically running down the trail, taking pictures every five minutes. Kelly, Leif and I were steadily hiking in the middle. And Kate and Pat were in the back, Kate had a bit of a bad knee...which unfortunately only got worse as we went along.

We made it down to our campsites...which were definately not what I think of as backcountry camping sites. The first one we passed had fully functioning bathrooms and showers, a caretaker and a room full of guinea pigs (probably for eating). The site we were staying at had a small field with papaya trees, a cornfield, a minibar, and some small huts. When we got there the tents were already set up (the muleteers haul ass to the campsites before all of us), and food was being prepared.

We had a good little stretch session in the field (apparently Kelly, Leif and I are the only ones who know the value of stretching after excercise) and had some dinner which is always preceded by a huge plate of popcorn and some crackers. Pat and Kate bust out some rum and cokes, we have a drink and pass out in our tents.

Day 2:
This is supposed to be the hardest day, Felix says we hike down to the river for about an hour and then pretty much straight up for about five. Kate´s knee is worse. On our descent Leif and Felix converse in spanish about various subjects ranging from basketball to drugs. Take a break at the roaring, I mean huge, river that has standing waves in it, and then head up the switchbacks. Again Eric is practically running up the hill, he seems to think that everything is a race and that he needs to win it. Leif and I are mobbing up too, sweating small streams, with Kelly shortly behind, and the Aussies way down with Felix. Leif and I have in depth conversations about the benefits and drawbacks of Port Townsend for the summer...talk about climbing.

Leif and I get to the spot where we are having lunch about an hour earlier than predicted, Eric is there ready to keep going. Kelly rolls in about 45 minutes after us, and then as we are finishing lunch Felix sits down and tells us where to go to get to our campsite.

This campsite is nestled above some old Incan terraces that are right on the edge of the cliff dropping 1500 meters down to the Apurimac. And right below the saddle that contains the old Incan refuge of Choquequirao. We have good weather and some time until dinner so Leif, Kelly and I decide to take the 45 minute hike up to the ruins. I am glad we did. Barely anyone there, the light just perfect, we can see down valleys in three directions. Spectacular, words cannot describe.

The reason I say I am glad we went to the ruins that night is because at some point while we were sleeping it started pouring and we pretty much had cloudy, slightly rainy days from then until we got to Machu Picchu.

At this campsite we were joined by several other groups camping, all doing it on their own, but only one french guy and a group of Argentinians were actually going on to Machu Picchu, the rest were just doing the four day up and back to Choquequirao. At dinner Felix gives us another little lecture/story.

Day 3:
We get up and have breakfast in the rain but by the time we make the hike up to the ruins it is reduced to a drizzle. Felix gives us a little tour of the premises and all of us are internally groaning from sore muscles, the day before kicked our asses, but today we just head down to another river for only a couple hours of hiking. We see a spot where the Incas tied mummies into the walls and would take them out to parade them around at holidays. There is a party (sacrifice?) field up on the near peak, epic views.

We trek up and over the edge of the ridge and the sun breaks out of the clouds bringing body drying heat into the valley. By the time we made it to the campsite the heat was more than just drying...Leif and I don swimming shorts, no shirt. Now we have the afternoon to relax, play cribbage, read.

Felix gives us a talk about orchids, hundreds and hundreds of orchids. Luckily we are doing this trek in the off season, which means more rain, however it also means wildflowers and less tourists. The valley in the busy season is all brown, dried out, for us it is green, lush, full of butterflies, flowers, birds, and wasps as long as your hand that could easily be mistaken for a small bird.

Day 4:
Clouds greet us for our second river crossing and steep ascent. Today is a similar hike to the second day, down, across a valley and up, up, up. At this point the French guy and the Argentinians are still camping with us, but one of the Argentinians seems to have a very badly injured knee, she can barely walk. And the French guy is carrying all of his gear, seems to be getting tired.

The stratification of the hikers is similar to the previous days. Eric runs off ahead, we are in the middle, and Kate is in the back with Pat, trying to take it easy on her knee. The river is large, and this one doesn't have a bridge, we will have to cross it. This is the Rio Blanco and if it had been raining a lot before our trek this crossing could have been impossible and would have forced us to take a different, not as cool trek. We, along with Alfredo, the cook, try to find a good way to cross, but in the end Leif just goes for it, almost slipping in his big mountaineering boots. Kelly and I take our shoes off and careful of every step, balance our way across.

Leif and I again mob our way up the hill, getting to the campsite just as the cooks and muleteers do. Eric apparently beat them, missed the campsite, went way too far ahead, and so was nowhere in sight. Tired, stretching in the drizzling rain, Leif and I wait for the others. Fog flirts with the ridge above us, tomorrow we will cross our first pass at 4130 meters.

That night Felix breaks out a box of wine at dinner and we celebrate another successful day of climbing. We talk about humming birds, they come in all sizes and we will get to see lots the next day.

Day 5:
Again we wake up to fog. During our ascent to the pass it is drizzling and the trail is pretty much just mud. As we get higher in elevation the cloud forest transitions to more desolate and rocky paramo. When we reach the pass it seems like the fog will burn off but as we descend down the other side it becomes apparent that it won´t. We are hiking just below the ridge on a trail that is cut out of the hill with an endless drop off to our left. I wish we could see, the view would have to be amazing. On our right there are small caves that are entrances to mines built in the early 1900s.

We drop a bit below the clouds and a village appears through the mist. We think we might have missed the turn off to our campsite so we turn around and head up a ways. After a obligitory pointless detour that we seem to always find ourselves taking, we get back on the orignal path and descend down to the village.

The community is perched in a valley above a raging river at the feet of grasping peaks. Stone walls wind through the houses containing sheep, cows, horses. We follow the trail and see Zeus´s brother beckoning to us. We follow him to our campsite which he explains is in the yard of his and Zeus´s house. This is their village. We relax while they head off to the river to catch trout for our dinner.

It is the equinox, we have champagne. It rains still.

Day 6:
Today we have the longest hike of the trip. We are hiking for around 9 hours, but this day is more gradual and we cross a pass at 4800 meters. We follow the river up the valley with small glimpses of glaciers visible through the clouds. We enter a flood plain and another hour up and we are at the pass. This is the first place where I actually felt cold, the wind and rain cut through my jacket and bit at my fingers. We hurried on, as we were rushing down the other side of the pass, I felt my first taste of altitude sickness (I think thats what it was), I felt nauseous and had to slow down.

We made it down from the cold and crossed another small river. Well, actually we just jumped over it. Descended into another valley and crossed another river on slightly sketchy logs piled on the rocks. The ecology changed again, we now saw what appeared to be blue berries everywhere, don´t worry, we didn´t eat them, that would be a stupid way to go. The valley bled into another community and we stopped at someone´s house for lunch. Children played with toy trucks and axes while defensive dogs chased butch roosters.

Another two hours of hiking and we met up with the popular alternative Machu Picchu trek called the Salkantay trail. As we arrived to the community where we would camp there was a league soccer game going on...in the Peruvian Andes. There are three nearby communities (well a couple hours hike each) and they have soccer teams. There is also a small store and we get some beers to celebrate. Felix introduces us to "Macho Tea" which is the local sugar cane liquer mixed with a bunch of fruitiness. This was the longest day and the end of the difficult trail. Now we just join up with the Salkantay trail, which is a piece of cake.

Day 7:
We start out on a five hour pretty much flat hike along the Salkantay river to the small community of La Playa where we will have lunch. Early on it seems like it is going to be a beautiful day, but after a few hours it is raining again on and off. Pretty much right when we get to La Playa it just starts dumping. About half way through this day we started hiking on a road anyways and we decide to take a minibus to a different campsite where we can visit some hotsprings. Of course we almost die on the minibus drive. The woman driving obviously has very little idea how to drive a stick or how to back up. Luckily Alfredo takes the wheel.

At this point we are officially back in civilization and I get stressed out again. We are camping in the yard of a half finished hostal. There is a small monkey jumping around, chirping and messing with our tents. We hang our stuff out to dry and hop in the bus to the hot springs.

The hot springs are amazing, not that hot, but gorgeous. We relax, eat pringles, drink a beer, chat about the last week, it is a good wind down from the hike.

When we get back to the campsite we get more beers and eat popcorn while dinner is being prepared. A huge bus with three Salkantay trek groups get off, loud, we don´t care, we´re louder. They leave anyways and head to the hot springs just as we are finishing dinner and starting a camp fire. We are joined by a guy named Mystic. He wears oversized wool, dreadlocks and a glazed facial expression. He gets a gourd of Chicha and tries to interest us in a San Pedro or Ayahuasca ceremony, hallucinogens that are supposed to connect you with the earth. Mystic is obviously a bit out there...he won´t even admit that these are drugs... We end up sitting around the fire late into the night enjoying each others company.

Day 8:
We spend the morning in a bus getting to the train station that leads up to Aguas Calientes (the small town at the base of Machu Picchu). The train doesn`t leave until the afternoon though, so we hike the two hours to the town. Along the hike it is evident that we are on the "eyebrow" of the jungle. Kelly and I see familiar palms, and other vegetation. Mealy Amazons and Oropendulas fly above us.

Aguas Calientes is similar to Cusco in that there are gingos everywhere and prices are ridiculously high. We have a pizza lunch and check out our riverside hotel. Kelly and I have a huge room with four beds over hanging the insanely large, fast flowing river. We shower after 8 days of not being able to only to put on our same smelly clothes. Coffee, ice cream, cribbage, and dinner. Then off early to bed so we can wake up early to get up to Machu Picchu.

Day 9:
It is 5:20 in the morning and the line of gringos waiting for buses to Machu Picchu is crazy. Probably 13 or 14 bus loads of people get sent up the hill. People are rushing through the gate to get in line for the Wayna Picchu hike (an hour hike up to a peak next to the city with some ruins and a great view). We are lucky we get near the front of the line and the weather finally clears up. Everything falls into place.

It is hard to describe the magnitude of Machu Picchu. Words fail me, it is beautiful. Well except for the thousands of tourists scrambling all over it. Tour guides everywhere. Must have been amazing to discover. Even though it was Machu Picchu it still kind of paled in comparison to the trek that took us there. It felt like a very ingenuine experience...everyone does it, these ruins and Aguas Calientes are not Peru, they are an isolated experience, they could be anywhere in the world.

After getting our fill we make our way back to the town, have some food and get on a train back to Cuzco.

Flight to Lima, night in Lima, flight to Guayaquil, 8 hours in a bus station, 9 hours on an overnight bus.

Now we are in Vilcabamba, livin it up at a cheap resort. Pool, Ping pong, hiking, delicious german food...what more could you ask for?