Days 8-11: The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu

The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu

Days 8 – 11

January 5 – 8 

My alarm awoke me at 3:30 AM.  Turning over, my stomach protested, reminding that I wasn’t fully recovered from my illness.  I was slow moving, and thanked myself for packing up my gear the night before.  I had a hearty breakfast of medication.  A coach bus arrived at the hostel at 4:45, and I was greeted by our guides, Wilson and Manolo.  I slept for the first couple hours of the bus ride to Piskacucho, the town residing at Kilometer 82 of the Inca Trail, until the unimproved roads shook me awake.  The Andes towered over us, and we passed through small mountain towns on roads far too narrow for a vehicle this size.  

At Piskacucho, sitting at an elevation of 8,923 feet, we disembarked and ate a full breakfast prepared by our cook.  With the tables, chairs, dishes, and silverware, this was already the most glamorous camping I’ve experienced.  Awkward introductions were punctuated by the first crack of laughter at the breakfast table.  Our 45 kilometer journey began in the sunny late morning.  At this elevation, the beaming sun was hot on the skin, and all remaining warming layers were shed.  

Group photo at Kilometer 82, our trail head for the Inca Trail

At ticket control, I presented my passport to prove who I was and crossed the roaring Urubamba River, taking my first steps on the Inca Trail.  Already, the scenery was overwhelming.  After the first hour of trekking, the rain started.  While the others were hurrying to doff their packs and don their rain jackets, I pulled out my umbrella and opened it overhead.  Sixty degree temperatures, high humidity, and mountainous terrain is no environment to be wrapping oneself in a plastic shell.  A steep climb put us in a different microclimate, stopping the rains long enough to enjoy our first vista point.  

Taking my first steps on the Inca Trail

Our first microclimate had cacti.

At one of our first stops, our guide Manolo (aka Sexy Manolo) scraped white
insects called Conchynilla off of a cactus and crushed them under his thumb,
creating ink with their blood that he used to decorate the faces of several hikers.

After lunch, the rain started again, and we began another steep ascent.  The increasing altitude, thinner air, and exhaustion made the experience of the Andes more surreal.  Microclimates changed, and the first pine tree appeared.  And then the first orchids.  At an elevation of 10,800 feet, we neared Ayapata, our campsite. 

View from our first vista point. 

The first Incan ruins we encountered were not a temple,
but rather a military outpost used to control access to Machu Picchu.

We found these growing out of the rocks on the mountain side. 
They are a type of pineapple with no fruits, only flowers.

Arriving at camp for the night, the tents were already set up.  A local woman was selling beer for an inflated price; the clang of beer bottles and the satisfying taste justified the expenditure.  We sat and joked while the sun and the clouds painted the high mountainous backdrop.  As the evening disappeared, Wilson arranged an introduction; we met the porters and they met us.  One of the reasons I chose Alpaca Expeditions is the way they choose and treat their porters.  They pick them from the same hometowns and keep regular crews, ensuring they all know each other.  They also keep their pack weight 5 kg lower than the legal limit.  Having carried that much weight myself, I know the difference is important.  

Before dinner, my irate stomach reintroduced itself.  I pecked at my plate and forced fluids.  I was eager to get to sleep; exhaustion and illness didn’t put me in the best social mood.  Before climbing into the massive four person tent I had to myself, I turned off my headlamp and turned my eyes towards the stars.  Their brilliance was evident in the mountains, and I searched for familiar constellations.  This was the first full sky I’ve seen with the North Star nowhere to be found.  The plummeting temperatures encouraged the end of my stargazing, and I embraced the warmth of my tent and sleeping bag. 

Camp awoke at 5:00 AM, and we were on the trail by 6:00.  Our ascent was steep, and Wilson moved slowly at the front.  The chatter started low and reduced to silence.  Microclimates changed quickly, and within 15 minutes we were in an overgrown region reminiscent of a jungle.  A twisted sinew of oak-like branches covered in moss and hanging vines created a tunnel around the trail.  With my blood and breath flowing, I was already feeling better.  

Group photos are just an excuse to stop for a minute during our steep climb. 
Notice the twisted trees and hanging moss.

Our climb continued; dirt slopes were exchanged for stone steps, the majority of which were laid originally by the Inca people.  Most of the path was enclosed in overgrowth, with the occasional break to reveal the monstrosity of the Andes surrounding us.  Even at our climbing elevation, they still towered high above, with some cliffs so steep and so near that it strained the neck to peer at their peaks.  

Occasionally, we got a break in the trees like this. 

Intermixed with some restoration stones,
the Incan stones are more weathered and rounded,
while the restoration stones are sharper at the corners. 

After two hours, we arrived at a rest stop at 12,460 feet, and we had a panoramic view of the Andes to the east.  At this elevation, we were inside of a cloud, and a fine mist permeated the air, gently falling towards the earth.  The fine mist increased to a light rain, coming in sideways, and my umbrella further proved its utility.  With 1,300 more feet to climb, wearing rain gear would leave me just as soaked as if I hadn’t worn any at all.  The umbrella allowed me to circumvent that nuisance entirely.  At 12,500 feet, we climbed above the tree line, leaving us in a tundra environment.  

Our panoramic view just as we entered the cloud. 

My umbrella proving its worth once again.

Marissa and Dorany are embracing the suck.  Everybody got wet on the climb up. 

The rain thinned.  At 13,779 feet, we reached our highest point of the hike, a saddle called Dead Woman’s Pass between two jagged peaks, and the highest elevation I have climbed.  The clouds rushed through this saddle, spraying mist sideways.  Lower temperatures were offset by higher levels of adrenaline.  After ten minutes, the last of the clouds passed through and the rain stopped, revealing a staggering landscape on the other side.  We began our descent.  

The view from the top of Dead Woman's Pass

Descending into the river valley past Dead Woman's Pass. 
The cloud we are entering rained on us until lunch time.

The scenic river valley beyond Dead Woman’s Pass made the two hour descent last an instant.  The rain started again when we descended into another cloud, cleared up for a brief moment during lunch, and started again as everyone was doffing the last of their rain gear.  We began another ascent; the steps uphill resembled more of a waterfall than a staircase.  Despite the weather, the changing elevation provided stunning views of the valley vista below.  We passed through Runkuracay, an Incan military checkpoint, and ascended to the second pass at 13,123 feet.  

The rain clouds enveloped us at Runkuracay,
the ancient military checkpoint en route to Machu Picchu.

On the downhill trek towards our campsite, we pondered the names of the many plants we passed along the way, and decided to assign names ourselves, declaring ourselves to be Incan botanists.  They took on the names of Auroras, Stan’s, Larry’s, Patricia’s, Mufasa’s, Santa Hats, Lil’ Dainties, Jeffries, Sun Gods, Andean Snows, and Bubble ‘Shrooms.  Before nightfall, we arrived at Choquicocha, our campsite for the night.  The routine was standard; tents and dinner were prepared by the crew.  Late night joking was cut short by exhaustion; we retired early in preparation for the next day.  

The aptly named Aurora's.

The scenic overlook of the valley below was characteristic after the second pass of the day.

Twenty minutes before our campsite, we detoured to Sayacmarka, an Incan
outpost with a panoramic view of the Andes and the valley below.

The stones here were carved from what fell off the mountains eons ago.

The next morning, we were now walking on the 100% original Inca Trail, approximately a meter wide with retaining walls built up anywhere from one to several meters.  The Incans took advantage of the natural landscape, using recesses in the steep sides of the mountains to begin their foundation.  Retaining wall height depended upon how far down the foundation was built.  We stopped at an observation platform, an ancient relay point between two religious sites within earshot of a conch shell trumpet.  The clouds rolled in to block the view again just as we were departing the site.  On this portion of the trail, microclimates and vegetation changed rapidly.  

Walking on the 100% Inca Trail.  These rocks have been here for centuries. 

The scenery just before cresting the third pass.

At our third pass at 12,073 feet, we stood atop Phuyupatamarca, an ancient astrological site, and the beginning of the cloud forest.  The rest of the day was downhill, following the steep Incan stone steps.  The clouds and waterways left many of the stones drenched; sure footing was necessary to prevent a descent more rapid than desired.  Below 11,500 feet, the cloud forest became silent the way a jungle is silent, with thick greenery far above the head and white noise populated by unseen waterways and wildlife.  

The view from the top of Phuyupatamarca to the depths below.

The steep stairway descended for over 2000 feet!

The jungle overgrowth was thick here in the cloud forest.

The ruins of Intipata had a panoramic view of the steep-grade valley below,
cut by the powerful river.  From here, we could see our campsite for the night.

The built-up step walls are retaining walls built by the Incans. 
Shortly after our arrival there, a large cloud sailed over the mountain we were on,
blocking out the sun, and starting the rain. 

It rained for much of the afternoon and night.  At this point, we had grown accustomed to these conditions.  We camped at Winay Wayna, a site only 5 km from Machu Picchu, and only 500 meters from the ancient site of the same name.  Here, we spotted our first llamas of the trip, and occupied ourselves until nightfall.  

The view from the top of Winay Wayna.

Our first llama sighting of the trip!

We awoke at 3:30 AM to line up early at the gate towards Machu Picchu.  At 5:30, we were permitted inside, and approached the Sun Gate.  A whiteout prevented us from seeing anything, even with the sun now over the horizon.  Just before entering Machu Picchu, we passed by an altar where people make offerings with rocks brought from all over the world.  I just happened to have the river rock from Big Bend’s Outer Mountain Loop still in my pack’s hip belt.  I offered it to the altar.  

The three-tiered altar on which I offered my river rock from Big Bend's Outer Mountain Loop.

At 8:00 AM, we entered Machu Picchu, the seventh wonder of the ancient world.  Our four day, 45 kilometer journey was now over, and we embellished the reward of the brief pilgrimage we made with each other. 

This is what Machu Picchu looks like in the rainy season.  You can't win them all.

Our side journey to the Inca Bridge. 
Notice here how far down the retaining walls go. 
This part is almost a sheer cliff!