My 30th Birthday, or The Most Physically Demanding Day of My Life

The second day of the Inca Trail is known to be the most difficult, for us it also happened to be my 30th birthday.
We woke at a leisurely 6:30 am to tent service. Marco woke us up and brought hot tea or coffee to our tent door. My altitude sickness was getting better, but I still wasn’t feeling 100%. Day one had proved more difficult than either of us had expected, so we decided hiring a “local” (unofficial) porter for the day would be a good idea. We packed our sleeping bags and everything we thought we could live without for the day into my backpack. The local porter would carry my backpack over the highest pass to the next day’s camp, about 12 km away (7.5 miles) where he would leave it with our group porters. He would then return 12km back to his home. The cost for this service is 120 soles, about $42. Kate’s backpack carried just rain jackets, water, and snacks, we would take turns carrying this backpack, each for half of the day.
After a delicious breakfast, we were introduced to our groups porters and cook. To support the 15 of us hiking and two guides, there were 19 porters, a chef, and a sous chef. We went around the circle introducing ourselves. Each trekker said their name and where they were from, Juan (seemingly) jokingly asked each girl who wasn’t obviously with her significant other if she was single. After he asked this 5 times, it got a little creepy. The porters were largely shy, but told us their names, where they were from, and what they were carrying. It was a bit humbling that one man’s sole job for 4 days is to carry the chairs we sit on at meals. Another porter carried the propane for cooking, another the cook tent, another the vegetables, etc.

Our local porter was still eating breakfast with his family we we departed camp, but Marco stayed behind to make sure our bag started it’s journey to the next camp. The Irish couple, Stephen and Laura, also hired a local porter to carry one of their bags with both of their sleeping bags. We probably weren’t on the trail more than an hour before I saw my backpack pass us. Too heavy for me to carry, the local had managed to strap some extra things to it before shouldering it up and practically running passed us.

Everywhere you looked it was either amazing views of jagged peaks…

… Or stairs.

We were firmly planted at the back of the group for the majority of the trip. Kelsey, the girl from Chicago who’s mom had to turn around on day 1 was right there with us. She had an ankle injury from competitive dancing years ago which decided to flare up at the worst possible time. It was obvious she was in pain, but she pushed through it.

At lunch, Marco and Juan took up a collection for a bottle of rum so that the cook could make us a cocktail later that night. It would be very cold where we were camping, nobody hesitated to pitch 5 soles (~$2) for a liter of rum.
 
After lunch was the most challenging climb of the trek. Juan strongly suggested we move at our own pace and try to enjoy it. I’m guessing our guides were napping after lunch to avoid rushing us up the pass.

The pass, by the way, is named Dead Woman’s Pass, but not because of any tragic events; there is a rock formation that resembles a dead woman. Here’s a picture of Kate and I at 4215m (13,829ft). For comparison, the summit of Mount Whitney is 4421m (14,505ft) above sea level.

For me, the uphill sections were the challenging parts. I felt as though I could never catch my breath, even after sitting for a few minutes, I was just a few steps from being out of breath again. I don’t know if it was the lack of oxygen at this altitude, or the grade of the trail (probably both); but trekking over this pass was the most physically demanding thing I have ever done.
Many people said the downhill sections were just as difficult. They were a little more taxing on my legs, but I could breathe, and take more than 15 steps without sitting down. Between the Diamox, coca leaves, Ibuprofen, and water, I was actually feeling better. My headache and altitude sickness had gone away. I think the decent down to camp was the best I had felt in weeks.

At the second camp, there were no locals selling beer, but we had each bough a few beers from the last vendor on the trail, before the pass. The fact that we had to carry these beers over nearly 14,000 feet made them taste particularly great.

It was starting to get dark, and we hadn’t seen Juan and Marco all afternoon. One of the porters came to where we were reflecting on the day and told us it was time for tea. We gathered in the dining tent for tea and then were surprised by a real treat. Benny, the chef, had made me a birthday cake. Kate didn’t tell Juan that it was my birthday until we had already started the trek, so Benny must have improvised with what they had already packed in order to prepare this amazing cake. It was still warm and spongy as I sliced into it, and it tasted delicious.

It was about this time that Juan and Marco appeared. After we left lunch they tried to buy a bottle of rum, but the ladies selling water and soda on the side of the the trail were all out. Our guides had traveled all the way back to the start of the trail to buy a bottle of rum for my birthday. They also brought some wine for us.

The rum was in a squirt top water bottle, when we asked Marco why, he reminded us that glass bottles were heavy, so he had transferred it into a plastic bottle for the journey. When Juan and Marco left the tent to get ready for dinner, we started passing the bottle around the table. I don’t think that was Juan’s intention, he was surprised when he returned to a half full bottle, and promptly took it away from us.

After dinner Juan produced a pitcher of what he referred to as Macho Tea, and proceeded to dump the remaining 1/2 liter of rum into it. It was warm and pretty tasty, a few of us remained at the table until it was gone.
As I type this, I still can’t believe how much effort people I barely knew put into making my birthday great.

When in Peru, do as the Incas do

Day one, hour one: we are waiting in the hostel lobby at 5:20am. The tour picks us up and we are off. There is no turning back. It’s still dark out, but there is no way I can sleep anymore. I’m filled with a mixture of excitement and sheer anxiety. We have a two hour bus ride to the trail head.

We realize quickly that everyone on the bus is speaking English. This comes as a relief. Attempting Spanish all the time gets exhausting! We come to learn that our group includes a group of 4 girls from Montana and Oregon, 1 Australian, an Irish couple, a mom and daughter duo from Chicago, a Swiss couple, and the biggest surprise, a couple from San Mateo (which is less than an hour from Santa Cruz towards San Francisco). Including Jeff and I, we make a group of 15. We are introduced to our guide, Juan, and assistant guide, Marco and we are off.

Juan starts to run through the pre-trail check for documentation, gear, and passports.

Everyone tries to settle down and rest because after the two hour ride, we will be on the trail for 4 days.

We arrive at KM 82, the iconic starting point for the Classic Inca trail. We all disembark the bus and start to organize our packs. I put mine on and try to mentally prepare for the fact that it’s about 20 lbs and will be strapped to me for the next 26 miles (42k).

We have to pass through a control point and get our documentation checked before we start the trail. As we are walking to the control booth, we walk next to the train that takes people who don’t choose to hike the trail to Machu Picchu. They are waving at us like a bunch of tourists. Our guide, Juan, smiles and waves back and turns to us and says “Ok, guys. Wave at all the lazy people”. So, we did.

We get through the checkpoint and take our first “family photo” and then we are off.

This is the awesome group that we will spend 4 days with. This is the only time we can stand this close without smelling terrible.

We have 7 miles today, and it’s supposed to be a warm-up day.

The only trekking picture with my hair and clothes passably clean. This was the bridge to the trailhead.

The hike is quite nice. We meander along the river for a while, which is providing a life-altering breeze on this hot day.

The Urubamba river 

 

After a few hours of gradual rolling hills, we come to the wall of a canyon. Looking up the Incan staircase is practically like looking directly up at the sky. Our group is grumbling as we gather at the foot of the steps. Juan laughs at us and informs us that this is only the beginning, and that this measly climb is nothing. It will take us less than 5 minutes, and “see you at the top”. We realized then that Juan could almost afford to take a nap as he waits for us to complete difficult challenges before he starts to “bring up the rear”. As we climb, a few of us realize that we are missing the mother-daughter duo from Chicago. When we reconvene at the top, we can look down to see Juan running backwards along the river trail. He, too, must have noticed that we were two short. The Chi-town mom had been feeling a bit woozy at the last stop. You can hear the murmurs grow more and more worried as the minutes pass. Soon, we see Juan and the younger Chicagoan trudging up the hill, mom-less. We learn that Mom had to turn back. Our assistant guide was getting her a horse back to the trailhead and she would meet us at Machu Picchu in a few days. It was a bummer, but as the days unfolded, probably a blessing. She had an asthma attack and a severe case of altitude sickness. Those things combined would have made for a miserable trip. I couldn’t help but be a bit jealous that she both gets a leisurely horse ride AND doesn’t have to endure the demon-stairs we just scaled. But, when I turn back to the trail, I am greeted by one of the first breath-taking views of the hike. Down by the river on the other side of the valley is a fabulously preserved set of  Quechan ruins.

We take a seat in a circle at the edge of the cliff and Juan tells us the story of this village. We also learn that we are walking on the only remaining Inca trail that leads directly to Machu Picchu. While there are several other trails in the area, none lead directly to the majestic city. That’s all it takes to make us feel inspired.

Photo credit to our trail mate, Megan, who knew I would love this candid picture within 3 hours of knowing us.

We are on the trail again.

From here, we hike through some switchbacks to the river once again and across to our lunch spot.

We see our group of porters, marked by the trek company’s yellow gear and flags, and are greeted with a cool glass of juice. One of the porters has set out small tubs of water and is waiting for us to queue in front of him for some soap and a hand washing. We take our seats in the dining tent,  elbows touching in our first group mealtime huddle. None of us knew quite what to expect of the food. Chatting amongst ourselves, we all agreed that if left to our own devices, we may be eating cereal for every meal. The level of surprise was surpassed only by excitement as the waiter brings out the appetizers. Wait, appetizers? Score! We are served halved avocados stuffed with fresh salsa picante, and an avocado has never tasted so good. It was delicious. Next up was hot corn chowder (also scrumptious) and then cooked trout and veggies. Whatever doubts we had about the food quickly disappeared. This meal was one of the best we’d eaten in Peru yet. What a pleasant surprise. How do they do it, prepare such a decadent meal in the middle of nowhere? That question would prove to be a theme when it comes to the porter team on our adventure.

After a brief siesta, we are off on the trail again. We came about 7k (4.5mi) before lunch and had 5k (3.1mi) more to go before camp. Since we were a bit behind schedule, we needed to get a move on it to make it to camp by dark.

I think we all learned the first hard lesson of the trip on day one after lunch: just because the food is glorious, doesn’t mean we have to stuff our faces. The whole lot of us were a bit sluggish after our lavish lunch. Somewhere along the way, Jeff started feeling a but under the weather. He was getting a headache, despite drinking lots of water, and was growing a bit woozy. Our guide stopped us and let us know that we should think about hiring a local porter for our bags the next day, if we weren’t feeling well. It would be a grueling day of climbing to the first summit and then descending down into the next valley. We decided to take it slow for now, get to camp, and address our baggage in the morning.

When we finally made it to camp, dusk was just setting and the last 5 minutes were really steep. We arrived to find a little village of tents already set up for us. The porters are magicians. It’s really quite incredible the way they carry 50lbs of gear each, leave lunch camp after us and reach camp, set up, and start cooking dinner before we arrive.  It’s right about then that the second miracle happens. There is a little old man selling cold beers. I think every single person in our group cheered. Jeff decided to have a nap before dinner in hopes of feeling better. Don’t worry, I had no trouble finishing our beer for the team.

Dinner was, yet again, the best thing I’ve ever eaten and after dinner, the whole group practically fell comatose into our sleeping bags. Jeff took some Ibuprofen and Diamox and we both went to sleep.

It’s Ruins, I tell You

The Sacred Valley lies about 9 miles north of Cusco, along the Urubamba River. There are a number of archeological sites and villages around the valley, and one could spend days or weeks exploring the area. We didn’t have weeks, so we arranged a full day bus tour.

The first stop was on the side of the road next to some farm land. We were very confused. Initially the tour guide began to entertain us by discussing the hundreds of different kinds of potatoes and corn they grew in the area, but that didn’t last long. Had our van broken down? We heard our driver and guide discussing the issue and using the word taxi. Were they sending a group of taxis for us? After a few minutes a taxi pulled up with an older Australian couple in it. I suppose they missed the initial pick up. This wouldn’t be the last time we were waiting for them.

The first planned stop was this lookout over the Sacred Valley where we took a few pictures and enjoyed the scenery.

The next stop was Pisac, which is both the name of the town on the Urubamba River, and the name of the Incan ruins 2.5 miles up the steep mountainside above the town. Lucky for us the van took us right to the ruins and we didn’t have to walk up the mountain. The primary feature of the ruins is the agricultural terraces that sweep the mountainside. Our tour guide began to explain to us the different construction techniques and how the more elaborate masonry was used for more important features.

After lunch we made our way to Ollantaytambo. If you are paying attention, the Incan and pre-incan people of Peru were big on building cities on mountainsides. This means two things, terraces and stairs, lots of them.

It was mid afternoon by the time we reached Ollantaytambo, and the sun had begun to retract behind the ruins, so we didn’t get many good pictures. You’ll have to take my word for it, this was the most impressive archeological site we had visited yet in Peru.

The last stop on our whirlwind tour of the Sacred Valley was Chinchero. This small town, 12,000 feet up in the Andes, is a fairly typical town where women still practice the traditional methods of dying and weaving. We received a demonstration of the dying process which was particularly interesting. They use a root to create a soapy solution which turns the Alpaca from a light brown to nearly bright white. They then use a variety of different plants and other items to die it a wide range of colors. I think the most impressive was the red die, which comes from the blood of an insect that grows on plants locally.

It was late when we arrived back in Cusco. We went straight to bed as the next day had another big adventure in store for us.

The Incan Capital, or Gods Don’t Need to Walk up Stairs

Cusco was the capital of the Incan Empire 500 years ago. Today it’s a city with a population of nearly 400,000  and the bustling hub which hosts 2 million travelers each year as they embark on a countless number of adventures. The most famous is the Inca Trail trek to Machu Picchu, which we’ll get to soon enough.

We wandered about the city, trying to book a trip to the Sacred Valley, but found that many businesses were closed on Sunday, or maybe it was just this Sunday as there was some sort of parade happening.

The Plaza de Armas in Cusco is definitely the most impressive we’ve found in Peru. In case you were wondering, the rainbow flag is the flag of the Cusco region, and you see it everywhere.

What do we have here? A double-decker bus tour? Don’t mind if we do.

The tour started out a bit odd, we circled the Plaza de Armas and the surrounding blocks a few times and weren’t really sure when the tour was actually starting.

Pretty soon we began winding our way through Cusco’s many neighborhoods, past parks and churches, and around statues.

We hadn’t done much research, or asked many questions, so we didn’t really know what we were going to see on this bus tour. After seeing the highlights of the center of the city, we began to wind up the hillside.

From here we could see how sprawling of a city Cusco is, but we were also in for another sight.

The Christo Blanco (White Christ) is a 82 foot tall statue modeled after the one in Rio de Janeiro. It was a gift to the city in 1945 from a group of Christian Palestinians who sought refuge in Cusco.

 

The bus dropped us off in the Plaza de Armas and Kate and I decided it was dinner time. The book, Turn Right at Machu Picchu had recommended Cross Keys Pub, so we decided to give it a try. It was empty, but they had Delirium on tap, the food was good, and the 49ers game was on. At the top of the stairs there is a pretty interesting scrap book of South American expeditions.

Monday morning we hit the ATM (for your information, at the time of this writing Scotiabank ATMs do not charge a fee) and walked down to the Peru Treks office to pay the balance for our Inca Trail trek. Peru Treks requires that you pay a deposit via PayPal when you book the trek, and the balance in cash 2 days in advance. This ensures that you are in Cusco for at least a couple days to acclimate to the altitude before starting the trek. We met a few people that would be on our trek, and learned some last minute details about the itinerary.

After we took care of business, we decided to walk up to Sacsaywamán, a huge and important archeological complex on the hill overlooking Cusco. “Walk up to” is a huge understatement, as it felt like one set of stairs after another, after another.

The Sacsaywamán ruins would probably have been some of the most impressive, if we were here in the early 1500s. Only approximately 20% of the original structure remains. Most of it was demolished by the Spaniards in order to build the catholic churches and other colonial buildings in Cusco. The remaining stonework was amazing. Some of the granite stones were easily twice as tall as I am, and fit absolutely perfectly with the neighboring stones.

 

After this expedition, we retired for the night. We were off on another adventure in the morning.