The Inca Trail

It was 07:00 and we were still waiting in the hotel lobby nearly an hour after we had been told we’d be picked up. Now I think it is fair to say that both of us were perhaps hoping there had been a mix up and we had been forgotten about; a perfect opportunity to withdraw from what currently seemed a ridiculous challenge we had set ourselves with both our dignity in tact (kind of) and indignation at the travel company with which we could bitterly complain to our friends at the injustice at having the opportunity snatched away from us.

A quick Spanglish call later and we were informed we had not been forgotten about, but one of our new comrade in arms had not been ready when the bus arrived and that they would be here shortly. Bugger!

And so it was we found ourselves on a somewhat cramped mini-bus winding our way towards the start of the Inca Trail approximately two hours away from Cuzco. The journey for the most part was pretty uneventful; that was until we neared our destination and a remarkable number of rocks began to be strewn across the road. We found this somewhat peculiar and it was only a few days later that we worked out this was the remnants of a strike (something of a continental wide hobby as far as we can tell) but it was the overturned bus that we had also had to drive past that gave a slightly more chilling message once we’d figured this all out.

Eventually we arrived at the car park for the beginning of the trail and discovered that out of the dozen people taking part in our group, only ourselves and a mother and daughter had opted not to carry their own rucksacks, making us feel a little weak, although not weak enough to reconsider carrying them ourselves. So slightly embarrassed and rather more nervous we set off on the first of the four day trek, a mere 12Km relatively flat walk to the first nights camp. The decision to not take our own packs quickly showed dividends as we swiftly marched to the front of the group, walking gradually upwards alongside the Urumba river. The walk began fairly uneventfully, with just the occasional porter running past to put us in our places.

It must be mentioned at this juncture that the porters are superhuman in their strength and endurance. Generally not large men, but strong as Oxen, they can generally be relied on to reduce any sense of triumph you may be feeling at your endeavours to pitiful self-revelry as they run past easily carrying 20Kg of backpacks, camping and cooking equipment, ready to greet you with a cool drink and food as you stagger tired and sweaty into the lunch or evening camp, where they have inevitably been for several hours prior to your arrival unpacking, building tents, preparing food and generally doing everything you have done as well as act as builder, cook, cleaner and servant whilst also congratulating you as you finally make it to their deftly prepared camp.

That being said, I think it is fair to say that as we all entered the first lunch camp, we were somewhat surprised to be met by not just a simple sandwich or packed lunch, but three course meal round a communal table inside a tent specifically for the purpose! I don’t believe there was a single member of the group that was not somewhat stunned at the level of effort that had gone in to providing us with our lunch.

It was just before and after lunch that we had the only real up hill climbs of the first day. Whilst we handled them without too much trouble, some of those carrying their own packs were definitely beginning to reconsider their positions. It was after the second of the steep climbs that we foolishly asked how steep these climbs were compared to what we were to expect the following day. The answer was not what we had hoped as our guide described the second day as “up, up and up again”. It was with this fearful message revolving around our heads that we made our first nights camp.

I should explain that I have not camped since being a member of the Cub Scouts whilst still in Primary School and Siobhán cannot remember when she last did. I think it is fair to say that as we lay cold and shuddering in sleeping bags, in a tent too short for me to lay flat and on a slope so great that we kept ending up in a heap at the foot of the tent, that our passion for this type of holiday accommodation was not reignighted.

Following a rather sleepless night we came to the second day and all but two of our fellow adventurers had made the decision to pass their rucksacks on to porters, feeling the warnings of how hard the day to come would be should be heeded. This included Greg & Melissa, an American couple from Virginia, who were carrying the most unbelievably large packs each that I’m personally astounded they made it through day one!

And so began the second day a further 12Km. We swiftly moved from the front of the group on day one, to the back on day two. It is hard to describe the continual climb that faced us, with Greg and I competing for the first to have a coronary on the trail. The uphill climb consisted of three two hour climbs of 350m, 450m and 400m respectively. This may seem to you; as it certainly did to me prior to the physical reality, as not too great, but with each section came an increasing steepness and reducing oxygen levels. Whilst Siobhán was not too greatly affected, I honestly believe that had the top of the mountain been just 10m higher I would not have made it.

It was as a staggering wreck that I finally struggled over the apex of the first pass and collapsed to the floor, hoping beyond hope that I would never have to move again. Sadly the Inca Trail is a hard master and fifteen short minutes later we began the decent to the second day camp. Having climbed 1.2Km during the first part of the day we now needed to descend a further 0.7Km down. Whilst I found a somewhat renewed vigour in at least exercising a new muscle group, Siobhán began to appreciate Zeldas warnings of how for some, downhill on the trail was even worse than the up.

Several hours later and we finally made it into camp. A small illustration of how tired we had become during this second day can be made by highlighting that once we had walked down to the camp, we needed to walk up maybe 5m or 10m to get to our designated area in the camp. An exercise that required both of us to take a break part way as we huffed and puffed our way to the end of the second day.

I would like at this point to also thank Greg & Melissa who had been fortunate enough to be assigned a larger tent than us on the first night. Knowing how hard we had found the day and that the following day was to be my 30th birthday they had asked the guides to give us their tent for the night, which made for a far more pleasurable nights sleep (as well as the exhaustion from the days activities).

I will attempt to cut this tale somewhat short, as I am cognisant that this entry is tending more toward the epic.

The third day (and my 30th birthday) was a 16Km trek and began with a further steep 450m climb over the second pass (can you believe some people do both the first and second passes on the second day!!!). Revived from a nights rest, the second pass was made without too much ado, leading to yet another steep descent the following side to view some Inca ruins and make off for lunch camp.

Siobhán, Melissa, Greg and I started early after lunch on the third day and I’m not sure where from, but I had discovered a renewed energy as I marched our little band mercilessly toward the third pass, finally breaking away by myself about 1Km from the third pass to practically run to our final apex.

The descent following the third apex was gigantic and all four of our merry little group were feeling we had walked our last as we finally made it down over 2000 steps to our third and final camp, perched on a tiny outcrop of land above an extremely steep drop. None the less, I was not going to let the days exertions over shadow it being my 30th birthday. As luck would have it there was a bar at the final camp and Siobhán swiftly leapt into action as bar maid for the night, providing Greg and I with a continual stream of cold beers.

As well as this the group (I think lead by a lovely girl called Celeste) had made preparations to mark the occasion of my 30th birthday and so it was I was presented with a double Twix with makeshift match candles. Thanks to you all.

The fourth and final day started at 04:00 whilst still dark to make it to the Sun Gate in time for sunrise. Tragically the weather had decided we were to be denied this view as the heavens opened and commenced to drench us for the 6Km final walk. When we finally arrived at Machu Picchu the ruins could barely be seen due to the cloud level and rain and so we made our way down into town to dry off, have a shower and get some lunch.

Siobhán, Melissa, Greg and I then returned to Machu Picchu in the afternoon and following a second downpour managed to finally get to tour round the ruins and get the well deserved photos, if not in the classical sun drenched style.

I appreciate I have kept your attention for a rather long time with this post so will finally draw to a close. Please take a look at our photos from the links in the right hand menu if you’d like to get a better view of what we got up to. Hopefully my next post will be a little more concise, so until next time!