Part 4 of 5
We all woke up at 4:30am ready to inhale breakfast and quick-march out of town. Despite this it took an hour and a half before we were ready. Mostly this was due to the fact that we woke at the same time as the cooks and they needed at least 30 or so minutes to get things going. As usual there was a mountain of food but we were all so stuffed from the endless feasting that not much was eaten. The pigs ate well that morning.
Leaving Jose behind to deal with the the sleeping bags and such and our luggage which were to be driven by car to Santa Teresa and then hand carried by porters to Hidro Electrica (our next meeting place), we headed down and out of the accursed La Playa with a spring in our step. Graham in particular was in a big hurry – he needed to find a magic rock fairly badly it turned out.
Our path took us along the road for a couple of miles at one point crossing a stream that was still deep and wide enough that we had to take off our shoes and socks, roll up our pants and carefully across. The water was chilly but very refreshing, our first footbath in four days and very welcome.
Shortly thereafter we struck a trail heading up and to our right which quickly led us to the foot of one of the many Inka Trails and the start of the nearly 1000m (3300ft) morning climb. The day was cool and overcast but with good visibility and we were all so happy to be away from La Playa.
Shortly after striking the stairs we noticed a person halfway up begin this odd performance: sitting cross legged (sort of) this old, toothless woman shuffled herself out into the middle of her step using her hands in a skootching sort of way and took up this howl. As soon as we drew even an empty hat was proffered up for any coins we might have spare. Obviously she is there every day, it was pitiful and sad and we gave her what we had which was not much in the event having spent most of our change on sodas the day before.
After this the trail wound up, up, up, a long, winding path with lung-busting stairs from time to time, small waterfalls, loads of flowers (an incredible Peruvian iris being the star for me), views for days until eventually passing into the cloud level. The trail was very beautiful and thanks to the clouds seemed to have no end. Every now and again the clouds would thin and the mountains above would loom over us or the mountains on the other side of the valley from us would suddenly spring out. It was magic.
By 9:30am we had reached the summit having walked since 6:15am or so where we stopped for a snack and the obligatory photo moment. As we were standing around congratulating ourselves a French couple showed up, full backpacks, walking poles, the works and no guide. Turned out they were trekking solo from Choquequirao (the Machu Picchu alternative being developed) all the way to Machu Picchu, had been carrying all their food and fuel for the last 7 or 8 days and somehow, despite not having access to a shower etc, seemed cleaner and less sticky than us. We were well impressed despite the obvious blow to the egos.
Walking down from the summit (more of a saddle between two high points really) we quickly arrived at Llactapata which is the well-preserved remains of a former Inka lodge used by the Inka’s messengers. These lodges were spaced about 12km apart and gave the messengers the ability to deliver a message from one part of the kingdom to another with amazing speed. When we arrived the area was shrouded in cloud but Edwin suggested we chill for a few minutes and see what we would see. Shortly thereafter the clouds tattered and drifted apart to reveal Waynu Picchu in the way distance and eventually cleared enough for us to see both the village and the mountain of Machu Picchu:
After this it was a long descent all the way down to next valley floor and the Rio Aobamba more than 1000m below us. 10 minutes after leaving Llactapata we came across this high mountain camp site with, praise the Apus, the cleanest, shiniest flush toilet I had ever seen on a hiking trip. How this isolated place can have such a facility and the squalid town of La Playa cannot is beyond me.
Pushing on we were treated to views of Machu Picchu, the river, waterfalls, farmland clinging to the steep hills, slippery paths, a quick rain shower with big drops, increasing temperature and humidity and finally the bottom.
Another hour saw us at the train station but not before having come across some of the devastation left by the January rains that had caused such mayhem. Just near Hidro Electrica the Urubamba river makes a big sweep, this sweep has gotten a lot wider, destroying a farm, roads and much of the beginnings of an expansion to the hydro electric plant itself (the outside bit anyway).
We lunched at the Babylon restaurant where we met up with Jose and our luggage, bought ice cold beers and generally chilled out. Sandy even took a nap on one of the benches. The hike up to Aguas Calientes is about 10km from there, a reasonably gentle uphill but we had elected the day before to take the train and we were feeling pretty happy with this decision. I think Graham and I could have done it assuming we had skipped the beer fest and restrained ourselves a bit at lunch but as it was we were happy to take the train. The people we saw walking did not look all that happy and they had only walked in from Santa Teresa that morning.
By 5pm we were in Aguas Calientes, a rough, tourist trap of a town built out on either side of the railway whose only reason for being is that it is the closest point to Machu Picchu. We enjoyed our hot showers and flush toilets, ate yet again and went to bed in anticipation of our 5am rise to take the bus to Machu Picchu itself.
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