Some
very brief notes on our itinerary in
Friday,
June 16:
I took a taxi to JFK and caught my LAN flight from
to
Saturday,
June 17:
We met our driver, and a SAS bus drove our group to
the center of Cusco while a guide briefly discussed our itinerary with us. We
explored a little bit of the square on foot, then paid for our hike in the
little SAS office on the Plaza de Armas. Then we met our next driver and
started up the winding road to Urubamba. We stopped to take some gorgeous
pictures of the mountains on the way there, and saw some paragliders
considering whether to take off into the picturesque valleys among the
mountains.
We ate in Urubamba at a cozy, quiet restaurant
recommended by Elaine's guidebook and then shopped for some groceries in the
spare concrete indoor market. We stayed at K'uychi Rumi, a cluster of villas
inside a ring of walls, run by Claudia. There were two big dogs that sometimes
annoyed us with their barking. I slept the night on a couch cushion on the
floor.
Sunday,
June 18:
We were met by our driver in the morning and taken
to Pisac, where we wandered up a narrow street to the main square where a
market is held on Sundays. I bought an alpaca sweater of indeterminate quality
and some cheese empanadas from a woman making them over a clay oven. Susan and
I grabbed drinks on the sunny little market square, and Diane arrived and
bought 10 finger puppets from a little boy who named off each of the animals in
Spanish for her. When she made the purchase he hugged her tight.
Next the driver took us up the narrow winding road
to the top of the Pisac ruins, where we wandered along terraces and over ruins
to take pictures. There was one particularly astonishing ledge with a sheer
dropoff on one side. The weather was clear and the crowds light.
Back in
Back at the villa Elaine realized we didn’t
have any nachos to go with our dips and chicken, so we walked a half-mile to a
little bodega where the inattentive couple sitting out front seemed surprised
when I asked if there was anyone who could go inside and sell us something. We
returned to the villa for some excellent pico de gallo and enormous quantities
of grilled chicken. I pointed out some of the southern stars to the group. Mark
N. arrived late that night and he took over the empty couch in our little room
in the creaky, ill-lit villa.
Monday,
June 19:
The next day we were driven into Ollantaytambo for
a guided tour of tho ruins that dominate that old Incan town. It was a hot
climb to the top, but the ruins were fairly spectacular and there were not too
many tourists. I was annoyed with our guide: he was repetitive, interspersed
"no?" throughout his every utterance, and failed to answer several of
our questions. He showed us where the flow of the water in a sacred fountain or
shower could be altered by running a finger along a vein of quartz--which he attributed
to the "energy" of the quartz. After the ruins we were shown inside a
small dark home in the village to see what local life is like. The home was
full of guinea pigs and implements similar to those once used by
Incas—and a CD player was hidden underneath a cloth.
For lunch we ate at a local restaurant—Diane
almost lost her camera there—and I had bolognese and red wine. Back at
the villa that evening we played "sapo," which involves throwing
small, coin-sized metal disks towards a frog's mouth. My dinner was plain
pasta.
Tuesday,
June 20:
Early the next morning we packed up and waited on a
bench outside the hotel for the SAS bus to take us to the Inca trail. At a stop
in Ollantaytambo we picked up snacks, walking sticks, and ponchos at the advice
of our new guide, Ernesto. We met Edson, Rob & Luciana (from
The next step was being driven to the trailhead
where we slowly got organized before heading across the railroad tracks and to
the booth where our passports and permits were checked. The walk was mostly
flat until near the end where we ascended modestly and got a good view of a
beautiful outpost ruin down in the
Back at camp that night we had a huge dinner in the
dinner tent, and listened to Ernesto’s tales about Incan mythology and
constellations. Ernesto also told us about how condors were in danger from fake
healers who participated in “mystical” tours of Machu Picchu put on
by New Age groups (a trend started by Shirley MacLaine). The fake healers
collected feathers and eggs from the condors for their ceremonies, whereas no
such practices were used by real shamans. Ernesto also told us about how only
one real shaman remained—the last real Inca—and that he (Ernesto)
had met him several times.
Wednesday,
June 21:
We rose early, got tea and breakfast of pancakes
and porridge, then headed up the trail. The initial half was mostly in trees or
high grass, including the forest microclimate. There was a big campsite at
around two-thirds of the way up where we caught our breathe and bought snacks.
Rob, Luciana, Mark, and Katie were all ahead of me at that point, with Elaine
& the two Marks coming in a group below. I departed the resting place when
they arrived and headed up the gradual trail around one corner, around a
U-shaped segment, and then up to a sign marking 4000 m. at a saddle or false
pass. This segment was the most difficult -- I had to stop every 100 m or so to
catch my breath and wipe away sweat.
Luciana and Rob made it up before me and they were
calling my name & encouraging me when I got within earshot of the pass. The
pass was a forlorn saddle between two dark rocky outcroppings at the summits on
either side. Clouds were whipping through. I ate a Twix bar I'd bought for a
reward and noticed that a package of Oreos had inflated dramatically due to the
altitude.
We waited there around 2 hours as the group collected.
As a drizzle began we descended the long rock path on the other side to the
small camp in the valley. It was a dirty camp with a bathroom smell. Banks of
fog moved eerily up the valley to obscure the sky and mountains all around.
Thursday,
June 22:
The next segment of the hike was in a dense fog. It
was a very steep climb up to the Runcuracay ruins, which were just a couple of
outpost buildings atop a ridge. The pass was at around 3900 m. and by the time
we reached it a drizzle had started. I practiced a fair amount of Spanish with
Ernesto, trying to convince him in his upcoming trip to the
On the opposite side of the pass the rain began.
Along a rocky ridge Ernesto showed us a fairly substantial ruin, Sayacmarca, that was totally socked in with fog despite
being perched high on a mountain ridge. Fortunately the rain let up while he
was talking to us. Then it was more downhill through a steady rain to our camp
for a late lunch. The tents were surrounded by water puddles and I was eager to
get on to the third and final pass. The climb to the third pass wasn't
difficult, but the rain was steady. I was all alone in front, with my umbrella
attracting a lot of attention from porters and others on the trail. The third pass
was socked in with clouds and the rain was hard and steady. I waited for the
group huddled under my umbrella. When they arrived the rest of the party looked
miserable, especially Mark N. (who had insufficient protection and was soaking
wet). Ernesto said he'd never seen such rain during the dry season.
We started down together, pausing for a brief tour
of another ruin in the rain. This was Phuyupatamarca: the town’s name
means “cloud-level city.” The descent was very steep, down big
blocky steps that nevertheless required switchbacks. Elaine started feeling an
intense pain in her knee, which fortunately went away with a little pain
reliever. Only late in the afternoon did we drop below the clouds and see the
forested
The last stretch was switchbacks down to the camp,
where we opted not to shower and instead went to look at some terrace ruins
just near the camp. I had a couple of J&B's and chatted with Edson about
the costs in NYC. That was followed by a brief ceremony to deliver the tips to
the porters. Katie and I each made a couple of brief remarks in Spanish. (Since
all the porters were from Pisac I made a bad joke that we all really liked
Pisac.) We handed over the money wrapped in napkins; Ernesto took it, counted
it, and announced the amount, which was followed by a round of applause from
the porters and three cheers from our side. Later we all agreed it was an
uncomfortable moment—but it was the standard practice, and perhaps they
organize it like that to prevent guides from cheating the porters.
Friday,
June 23:
We broke camp at 4 am and headed out with our
flashlights for the ruins, shortly coming to the registration booth for the
park. In the dawn light I chatted with Ernesto about plate tectonics and why
planets shine. It was sunrise when we reached the "sun gate." The
view there was good -- clouds and fog swirling around, mountains visible all
around. There were lots of tourists along the trail, and we started seeing the
first tourists not participating in the Inca Trail route. I saw one young woman
with an immaculate khaki safari outfit looking like she'd just stepped out of a
Hercule Poirot movie.
The fog was still swirling around when we arrived
at the overlook above
Around 1 pm we caught the bus back to Aguas
Calientes. A little boy in a bright-red Quechua tunic ran down the stairs that
followed the road, yelling and waving at the bus at each turn, finally getting
on to beg at the bottom. At Aguas Calientes we found the hostel where SAS had a
meal for us—I shaved in the shower stall and got my pants all wet from
the excessive shower flow.
We had a lot of time to kill so we went for liquor
at a tourist restaurant overlooking the river where I got in a tiff with a guy
who refused to respond to my Spanish phrases. Finally we caught the train to
Ollantaytambo—it was filled with wet tourists and the windows steamed over
as we rode in the darkness. At Ollantaytambo we weeded our way through a big
crowd and diesel exhuast haze to find the right bus to take us to
Saturday,
June 24:
The next day we got a hearty breakfast before
heading via taxi to see the Inti Raymi dancers in the old
After the dance we split up to explore the city a
little further. We saw the famous Incan stone blocks all over town. Mark and
Elaine said goodbye as they made their way to Sacsayhuaman for more Inti Raymi
parading. I went up to the church that has the grand overlook of
At around 2 pm I went back to the hotel, got my
bag, and took a taxi to the airport. The driver couldn't make change so I had
to consult a half-dozen people in the airport to help me pay for the taxi. Then
I ran into another minor bureaucratic mistake when I handed over both boarding
passes to the airport tax booth woman, necessitating several runs back and
forth with the departures control woman who recognized that I'd paid double
what I owed.
The flight out to
Instead I asked to be let off at a bookstore. There
I was followed around by a polite but obsequious woman who kept pointing out
different books to me--I bought two but wasn't satisfied with my choices. Later
I almost got run over in the traffic circle as I belatedly noticed traffic was
rounding the circle in both directions. After some effort I found a taxi back
to the airport—the driver loved to talk about
At JFK I got a cab to take the long surface-street
route to