Day 1:
The first day is cycling, not trekking. Better still, it's downhill pretty much all the way. 67km on bikes, starting at 4350m above sea level and descending 3km.
Up bright and early, we are driven up into the mountains. The bus driver gives us a preview of what to expect from traffic by cutting corners on every bend. Fortunately there isn't too much traffic. Famously, in Bolivia you can cycle down the 'World's most dangerous road', which some Israelis in our group have recently done ("It's not very dangerous these days. An Israeli girl died the day before we were there, but it's not very dangerous."). Actually I'm quite glad that we're not on that road.
The mountains are very scenic as we wind our way up, and we get out at the highest point on our road - not the highest mountain in sight, but certainly high, and it's positively cold at the top in the wind so we're all wrapped up. On with the helmet and gloves, a quick check of the brakes and away we go.
The first, longest part of the descent is great. It's a good quality tarmac road with a big drainage channel on the inside (although strangely, having gone to this trouble, there are a few bends with great streams of water flowing down from the moutain and across the road - slow down and feet up or you're going to get wet, as we discover the hard way). And it's a great view, as the road switchbacks down the mountain. Occasionally we get off to take a photo that won't do it justice. We pass in and out of sunshine and it gets gradually warmer as we pass through mountain country, down past the upper jungle line where not much grows ('eyebrow jungle' as they call it here), and eventually into the jungle which is much warmer, so we shed some layers and leave them in the bus, which is following us down.
The last section is bumpy dirt road and we occasionally have to pedal, which is a shock to the system, but doesn't detract from the fun. At the bottom our bus takes us to the little village of Santa Maria for lunch.
From here we're supposed to get on a bus to Santa Teresa* but the rather disorganised tour company tells us that we have to wait a couple of hours for two guys in our group to go rafting - or would we like to go rafting too?
* You can do a 3-day or 4-day trip - we're skipping a day of the trip, which involves walking 33km between Santas; so we get a bus instead.
The rafting is very cheap and we enjoyed it in NZ so it seems silly not to. We quickly spot a few differences from NZ. The safety briefing provides a clue - if you fall overboard should you (a) not worry about your paddle, or (b) please try not to lose your paddle? I'll let you guess which country offers which advice.
The second difference is a lack of wetsuits - though disappointingly, we still get bitey insects.
And the third is the water course - there aren't really rapids here, as I'd use the term, but there are a few big rocks and lots of big 'waves' coming towards us when we least expect them. This time I legitimately fell out, as did two other guys. Lilly also went for a swim.* Scenic river, good fun, glad we went.
* She actually went for a swim - deliberately, behind the boat in a calm part of the river.
We get back to find one of our party becoming increasingly irate because the bus hasn't arrived. It transpires there isn't going to be a bus, and for a while it looks likely that we're staying put for the night. Eventually two taxis are found, for ten people. But it turns out that we're quite glad to be wedged into the back with two other people, because otherwise we would be thrown around on our mad taxi ride over dirt roads and through rivers of water. It's probably just as well that it's dark outside so we can't see how many cliff edges we drive along - we just get vague impressions of roads that remind us of Fraser Island. This is, apparently, the main and only road connecting these places. A very basic hostel greets us with a very basic meal and, basically, no hot water. The Israeli guys are travelling around S America and one of them has been accompanied by his dad for their stay in Cusco. He's a nice guy - an engineer taking a brief break from building Tel Aviv's metro system and staying in a **** hotel in Cusco. He's not sure about the hostel. "I have never stayed in such a place," he tells me, "and I never will again. But for 2 nights I guess I can do it."
Day 2:
Today we are walking 23km to Aguas Callientes, the small town at the base of Machu Picchu. Our genial guide Abraham* shows us lots of plants along the way - coca, cocoa, coffee, tobacco, jungle potatoes, jungle tomatoes. When we reach the jungle he occasionally grabs some fruit from trees for us - some of it slightly strange, some of it bananas.
* The rest of our group is 7 Israelis, and the local guide is called Abraham. Weird.
Outside Santa Teresa we reach a valley and he shows us the route we would normally take if a bridge hadn't been washed away in the January floods. (People are already rebuilding on a low area that was completely washed away. Abraham suggests that this is optimistic in the extreme.) And then we just have to cross the valley on a cable car.
Then we reach the cable car. It's terrifying. It's a cable, and a rope, and a little metal cage. And 'cage' sounds more reassuring than this is. It's like the outside edges of a cage with one horizontal bar on each side. You can squeeze two people into it. Those people will not look happy.
The first two pairs across take ages - it's not simple to pull yourself across, even with the running push-off that Abraham gives (at the risk of falling over the edge himself). While we're waiting, a German backpacker arrives, having been told that this is a simple path to follow and that he had to cross the river "and then I did not understand the word, so I thought it must be a bridge or something. Oh Scheisse." Scheisse indeed.
We benefit from the engineer getting to the far side and telling the others how to pull, so we make it across fairly quickly. From here it's a barely discernible path through the jungle hillside (we let the German stick with us as he has no chance of finding his way otherwise), seeing some old Inca trails, past a hydro-electric plant, and finally along the railway line. The severity of flooding they had in January is unbelievable - both the height the water rose to above river level, and the amount that swept down from the mountains washing away sections of road.
In the last few kilometres we get our first glimpses of MP, Waynapicchu, and the sun gate. It all looks incredibly high above us.
We stay overnight in Aguas Calientes, very near to the bottom of the mountain. It's a slightly less basic hostel: they turn the hot water on if you complain. We're pretty tired and very glad that we hadn't walked 33km the previous day (as we would have on the 4-day version).
Day 3:
We're up at 4am to get in the queue for the first buses (which go at 530), to make sure we are in the first 400 people to arrive when MP opens at 6am. The number of visitors to MP is limited only by the number that can get there*, but only 400 get to climb Waynapicchu, the peak above MP. We hit the queue about 4:15 and are rewarded with tickets #312 and 311. If you don't want to take the bus, you can walk up the mountain to MP - 80-90 minutes of steep climb. We took one look at the mountain and decided to save our energy.
* There are quite deliberately no roads to MP, to prevent the site being completely overrun. This works out nicely for Perurail's monopoly. It is less helpful when the railway gets washed away, especially if you're one of the many many people in Cusco totally dependent on tourists for your income.
In a sense, Machu Picchu does not disappoint - it really is as spectacular as the photos you have probably seen of it. Both the landscape and the construction are very impressive, as is the integration of natural rock formations and buildings. But it is perhaps a bit of a letdown when it comes to the detail. There is virtually no carving or ornamentation or artefacts. The impact of the terraces (or 'steps' as I previously referred to them) is probably a bit diminished by the other sites we saw in the Sacred Valley - they would be amazing if we hadn't seen similar landscaping already.
We start with a two hour guided tour, and the highlights that it shows feel a bit of a stretch - a room with 3 windows; a condor formed by a carving on the floor, two sweeps of natural rock that might be wings, and a lot of imagination; and a sundial which demonstrates impressive knowledge of solstice and equinox but no great beauty. Our guide for this section (not Abraham) doesn't add much to the experience. Then we are free to explore for the rest of the day. It's a pretty big site, not least because not much of it is flat. Good fun to clamber around.
The 'classic' photo of MP is taken from the highest point on the site itself, but you can get more of an aerial view by climbing Waynapicchu. This is initially intimidating as it looms high and steep above MP with no obvious route up, but there are stairs that can't be seen from a distance, and which demonstrate that the Incas' many fine building skills did not really extend to stairs. A fairly exhausting climb but well worth it for the views. (As Lilly observed, there can't have been many fat Incas.)
After that we took a walk to see the reconstruction of an old Inca bridge. On the way, we pass the high point for the second time. While we're here, a cloud rolls along, at first blotting out much of WP and neighbouring mountains to ethereal effect, and then moving over MP itself so the city almost completely vanishes from view. A little bit of rain earlier in the day was worth it to see this.
Eventually we're tired and have seen pretty much all there is to see. It's only 3pm. But then we have been up here for 9 hours.
Due to the very limited trains and a fine piece of travel agent dishonesty (quick shout out to Expediciones Vilca, I hope nobody ever uses them) we were stuck in Aguas Calientes until 945pm. AC is a small town of very little charm which exists almost solely to service MP - its other attraction is the hot springs which give the town its name (actually its official name is Machu Picchu Pueblo, but that gets confusing, because MP is already the both the name of the mountain and the name given to the ancient city, whose original name is long lost. MP means 'old mountain', Waynapicchu is 'young mountain'. WP is a good bit higher than the city of MP but smaller than the peak of MP mountain, which you can also climb but, whoof, looked too tough for us. Hope that's clear - there will be a test later.)
We dragged ourselves up the hill to try out the springs - 'hot' is slightly overstating it and annoyingly there were no seats in the pools, but it did wonders for our aching limbs.
And finally getting home - a train as far as it goes, which currently is not very far. Guideless, we had been told we would be picked up here, but there is no bus. Fuming, we get on Perurail's shuttle bus to Ollantaytambo, where, miraculously, there is a minibus waiting for us. And finally back to our hostel at 2am, a 22 hour day, for a well-deserved sleep.
We had a great time here. If MP doesn't completely wow it's only because expectations are very high - still a great place to visit. And although you never hear about them, the other Inca sites around are also well worth seeing. Finally, Cusco itself is a much nicer place than we expected. You won't get luxury unless you pay for it, and many of the restaurants are very forgettable but there are some nicer ones worth seeking out.
For us, it's on to the U.S. - a few days in L.A. and then the Grand Canyon. That means a six hour stopover in Lima airport, which is pleasant and modern, and a midnight flight onward. Probably one more blog entry on South America to follow...
