A Day at Macchu Picchu

Gary and Alex weren´t sure they made it to the dreamstate, but things were definitely still dream-like when they opened their eyes to see David, Andres and Karin peering down at them, ready and raring to go to Macchu Picchu. To everyone´s surprise, Alex decided not to go. He would still pitch in for Andres and Karin, but a combination of money, exhaustion, and having already been there as a child of 8 years kept him in bed.

The train station was a zoo. At 5:30 am the line was already out the door for train tickets. A steady stream of Quechua were selling everything from cheese sandwiches and coffee to rain ponchos and llama sweaters. Not two minutes after we had bought our tickets and were securely (but not too comfortably) in our seats, the train pulled out of the station. For sure, dozens of people were left behind, their only option to spending a full day at the Incan ruins was to fork over the big bucks ($165 round trip) for the helicoptor ride.

The train ride is supposed to be 4 hours but today it took 6. Numerous times the train stopped dead in its tracks, even backing up a few times, before continuing slowly up and around the twisted path to Macchu Picchu. Everyone slept most of the trip, Gary in particular making up for his lack of sleep the night before. David had thought ahead, buying sandwiches and fruit back at the train station, so when we pulled into the station below Macchu Picchu, none of us needed to waste precious time sitting down to eat at one of the many restaurants set up to serve the steady stream of tourists.

Buses took the train passengers up the windy road to the site. The option exists to walk, but one surely would have no energy left, if even time, to explore the Incan ruins once at the top. One more restaurant just outside the ruins enticed us to sit and eat, but if the air in Cusco was magical enough to keep us dancing two nights in a row all night, the air in Macchu Picchu was heavenly to the point where hunger, exhaustion, all feelings of need disappear, leaving only the desire to enter into the ruins and wander in sheer amazement.

The entrance fee was listed as the same for Peruvian nationals as well as foreigners, as if it should be any different. But such discrimination against visitors to Peru, although unofficial, was common - higher prices for hotels, train and bus tickets, food at the market, taxi rides. Sometimes, like for Andres from Columbia, it didn't even matter that he spoke Spanish, just that he wasn't Peruvian. To fight such an unfair practice, one had to stick to their guns and insist on paying the normal price. Here at the entrance to Macchu Picchu, the sign made it clear that all would be treated equal. Thank the lord for small favors.

For those that have never travelled far from home it is an eye opener, and even for the experienced traveller it is a reminder, that being made to feel like you are a minority stinks. We'd like to envision ourselves back home taking this into consideration in our daily lives. Humility and respect go a long way on the road and in the comfort of ones own back yard.

Walking into Macchu Picchu truly is a unique and wonderful experience. The entire top of the mountain is covered with stone walkways and walls, many in remarkably good condition. The options on where to go are nearly infinite. We just started walking, climbing up one path, across another, into a complex of buildings that ended in a dead end, back out and on to more. From pictures we'd all seen before, it didn't seem that the ruins would be so spread out, covering quite a large area of the mountainside. Our poor little international group didn't have the advantage of a tour guide, so we just walked around in wonder and awe, catching snippets of explanations in at least half a dozen languages from other tour groups.

Ready to Climb!

Our big goal for the day was to hike up to Huayna Picchu, a summit 1500 feet above Macchu Picchu once used for religious ceremonies. The hike can be so strenous and potentially hazardous that no one is allowed to begin the ascent after 1:00 pm and everyone must sign in at a guard shack and later sign out upon returning so that if someone gets lost or hurt the authorities can put together a rescue team. We began climbing at 12:55 pm. Within minutes, the group splintered due to different paces. The going was indeed difficult, though the only equipment really necessary was a pair of good shoes, a strong will to make it and extra large lung capacity. The path was steep and twisty and slick from cloud moisture. Some passages were so steep a heavy braided guide rope had been attached to the mountainside to aid climbers. Sections of stone staircases were well worn from the thousands of feet from antiquity to now that had made the climb.

It took David just over 30 minutes to reach the top, the clear winner among his companions. (The average climbing time is 1 hour). Gary showed up 5 minutes later, huffing and puffing, but propelled by a strange second wind about 2/3 of the way up. Andres and Karin showed their heads after another 10 minutes, glowing from sweat and excitement and delirium.

The view from the top was stupendous. Macchu Picchu lay directly below, appearing for a few minutes at a time from behind a series of drifting clouds. During these windows, we snapped our photos. A Swiss traveller who was spending her second day at the ruins after also hiking the Inca Trail told us that the view a day before from a neighboring peak had been so clear, every mountain was perfectly visible including dozens of snow-capped peaks far in the distance. Such a sight must have been tremendous. Today, we had to be content with considerably less visibility. But content we were, very content. So content, in fact, that as it drizzled on the peak we nestled into rock cradles and let our thoughts slowly drift as the distant river below sounded its unending roar.

The hike down was easier, but strenous in its own way and didn't take any less time. Gary was adopted by a kind-hearted German woman (a grandmother none the less) who had made it to the top but was nervous coming down on her own. We signed out at the guard shack, marvelling at the employee who claims he makes the climb in 15 minutes. Time was running short to get down off the mountain via bus and get on the train back to Cusco, so we made a bee-line back through the ruins to the bus area.

Our 2 hour sojourn up to Huayna Picchu, combined with arriving late on the train, made our first but hopefully not only visit too short. Seconds before climbing on the bus, Gary got a tremendous kick out of calling his friend Jeff Poehlmann in the United States (love ya, buddy) from a public phone. No doubt, people will be making cellular calls from the ruins within a few years. Ah, the march of technology.

Now that we had done Macchu Picchu, something began to go seriously wrong with our day, as if the ruins, famous for being a source of mystical energy, had sucked it all up instead of giving it out. For starters, we had come down from the mountain well earlier than was necessary. The train didn't leave for a few hours. To fill the time, we decided to take the bus 2 kilometers up the road to Aguas Calientes to enjoy the hot baths. However, thanks to a quick bite to eat that wasn't quick enough, there were only 15 minutes before the baths closed, so we didn't go.

All Aboard!

When we went to buy our return tickets on the train, the ticket seller informed us with a sadistic smile on his face that there were no more seats available. Yes, we could buy tickets, but we would have to stand the entire 6 hours to Cusco. Shelling out the big bucks for the helicoptor didn't seem too bad. Of course, the last helicoptor had left 10 minutes ago. Unhappily we paid for the tickets and sat down outside to wait for the 6:00 pm train, which arrived at 7:00. By that time, everyone's energy level and enthusiasm had dropped to zero.

Getting on the train with the hundred or so other people waiting was completely mad. The train was already full from the tourists who boarded back at Macchu Picchu (ah, there's the rub) so we dashed from car to car looking for space, being ejected from one because all the standing room had been taken up, from another because it was second class and we had, strangely enough, first class tickets (first class standing tickets?). We finally found our place, cramped and uncomfortable, and did our best to settle in for the journey.

Gary reverted back to the seventh grade, when on a patrol trip to Washington D.C., he had simply curled up in the central aisle, trusting all who needed to pass to carefully step over him. The modern suspension and carpeting of that Amtrack train so long ago were light-years more comfortable than the bouncy, grimy wooden floorboard he now found himself lying on, and the army of Peruvian vendors making their rounds through the train cars didn't seem too concerned with treading on him.

Are We Home Yet?

Within a few hours, thanks to passengers who departed at stops along the way, everyone had found a seat. For Gary, who slowly began exhibiting clear signs of being unwell - shivering, cold and sore, head and stomach aching - the seat was simply a lightly padded instrument of torture, marginally better than the floor. His condition grew steadily worse. It was without a doubt, bar none, the worst six hours he has spent in his life, horrible to the very end, whether he was tossing and turning uncomfortably in the seat, sitting ruefully in the stinky dark bathroom, or sleeping fitfully in positions even a Yoga instructor would find uncomfortable.

The lights of the train station in Cusco were the most welcome things Gary had seen in his life, and only slightly less appreciated by Andres and Karin who didn't have the best time on the train themselves. Oddly David was enjoying himself, buying fruit from his neighbors to lighten their load and fill his belly. It is quite unbelieveable the extent these vendors will go to to sell their goods. One lady, at least in her 50's (though it is nearly impossible to tell because even the young have lost their teeth to too many 'mate de cocas') had three huge woven baskets wrapped in brightly colored woolen cloth brimming with fresh bananas, mangoes, mandarinas, and papaya.

A taxi took our weary bodies back to the Plaza de Armas, where we said our lazy goodbyes and stumbled off to our respective hotels.

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"I Love Mate de Coca"

It turned out that the day before in Cusco, Alex had exhibited similar symptoms as Gary, though to a lesser degree, but had taken it easy and gone to bed early, ridding himself of whatever bug it was during the night. Gary, on the other hand, had heaped strenuous activity on top of lack of sleep, depriving his body of the chance to deal with any microscopic invaders, and most probably making what might have been mild much worse.

By mid-day, Gary was feeling better. We all discussed the possibility of getting at least a few hours of driving in to insure reaching La Paz in two days, but we'd already missed our check-out time at the hotel. In order to stay one more night and rid his body of the illness, Gary made the commitment to his companions, baring any pathetic condition of health, of making it whatever distance necessary each day to be in La Paz on New Year's Eve.

David and Alex took a little self-tour of Cusco during the afternoon on the KLRs. Gary joined them at the Plaza de Armas (of course) for a small bite in the early evening. Everyone was heartened by his ability to mobilize and be further than 5 feet from the bathroom. David and Alex worked together translating Alex's Spanish journal entry which he had worked on the day before in lieu of going to Cusco.

For a while now, Alex had wanted to write something in Spanish for the enjoyment of the many people we had met and given the web address to who spoke little or no English. (Eventually, we hope the whole triplog will be translated into Spanish.) But access time on the computer was always at a premium, with Gary and David doing a barely passable job of keeping the journals up to date in English.

Everyone turned in early, resting up for the big push to La Paz.

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