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Yesterday I was in Machu Picchu.
It was the reason I came to this country, and I saw it for myself. I went by El Camino Inka, the three day trek through the mountains of the Sacred Valley, down into the beginning of the rainforest, past other ruins that are almost as impressive as the main attraction. El camino (the road) was a sacred route to Machu Picchu used by the Inkas. Sunday was an easy day– hostel pickup at 6 am, then a bus ride to km.82, the starting point of the hike. It was sunny, my Quechua guide did a nice little ceremony on the first bridge for us (all things positive come from upstream, all negative things are swept away). US was me, and Anasol and Valeria, from Argentina. Because I apparently pass muster with the Spanish crowd now–they didn’t put me with the rest of the gringos! When I finally introduced myself to the American half of our group before lunch I startled them–they assumed I didn’t speak any English.
Lunch was amazing, in that the porters, who outnumbered us, assembled a dining tent, cooking tent, and a full meal in forty-five minutes at our halfway point. These porters are truly astounding–they run past you on the trail in their sandals carrying tents and chairs and groceries for three days...only they can make you feel lazy while you are hiking and sweating. I did my best to explain in Spanish during the porter-thanking ceremony that they are the reason my dream was possible. Dishing out coca leaves mid-trail was also appreciated...the giant wads they chew could have something to do with their stamina.
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| I don't remember the name of these ruins, but they bowled me over. You walk up to a ridge, look over, and this lays before you. |
The second day was five unbroken hours of uphill. It was beautiful. And the top? They call it Dead Woman’s Pass. I was very grateful for my iPod. But then you descend into a view that makes it all worth it (vale la pena).
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| Looking down, heading up to Dead Woman's Pass, a 3,000-foot climb. |
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| Looking up |
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| I was a bit cracked out on coca leaves and mesmerized by these ancient patterns of rock (I was chewing the leaves. Which is legal in Peru. You get a mild stimulant effect, they suppress appetite, relieve body aches, et cetera. They are essential for life at 13,000 feet). This trek was from about 11,500 feet to almost 14,000-- lucky me, I'd been acclimating over the months of my stay in Cusco. |
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| This doesn't look like a dead woman to me. |
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| The trail for the following day. |
The third day is considered the most beautiful, because you travel the farthest (thankfully only two hours of up!) And you cross the second pass, and all of a sudden you have come down into the beginning of the rainforest. Ferns, orchids, vines, plants growing from tree branches. That frog/bird/insect “rainforest” sound. And appropriately, it rained on us. Hiking in the rain is fun! ...Did you pick up my tone on that one? If I had not already come to love sock liners, dorky raincoats, and quick-dry pants, I would have then.
How twisted and interesting is it that being in this place made me think first of screensavers, and then of Disneyland? “Look at this! Waterfall, dripping moss, brightcolored bird! It’s like those changing screensavers! Or like the jungle ride, only real!” I don’t know what this says. Dissertation about technology, or about manufacturing reality, someone? In the end I guess it just reaffirms the value of experiencing something real for yourself. And through the rain, we got a glimpse of Winaywayna, the last camp, just around the mountain from Machu Picchu. And I began to get very excited.
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| Winaywayna |
So at four a.m. yesterday, we got up, ate our pancakes (I love you, porters) and began the last section of the trail at 5:30. And it was dark, and still raining. They told us to go slow, but I am impatient. But I hurried for nothing, because although I was one of the first to Intipunku (Sun Gate), the famous first view was just fog. Twenty minutes later, around seven, I was in Machu Picchu. And could barely see it. I told myself I had all day to wait...
I climbed Wayna Picchu, the sacred mountain that overlooks the ruins. My friend Keidi who went before I did was right to call it the Inka Stairmaster. Do the forty minute program, and you get a few glimpses of the famous view. But I was happy anyway, and finally ate my Hershey’s bar atop the ruins there.
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| The majestic and famous view of Machu Picchu...not. |
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| This is the sort of unparalleled stonework that allowed Inka buildings to stand for hundreds of years longer than modern technologies would allow...and the Inkas didn't even use mortar. And they're building on fault lines. And they didn't even invent the wheel! |
I began to feel very afraid of disappointment during the tour, just because the rain and fog continued...I needed to see the picture in my head, in reality. The two had to meld together, or I might not feel like I had truly been there. It was scary how important this felt. And then? I ask Carolina, the Argentinian woman I shared a tent with on the hike, to take the first picture of me in the ruins. And my camera battery dies.
I had been so stupid to doubt my crazy paranoid fear of this happening to me! Taking pictures very sparingly on the hike had not worked! I could. Not. Believe it.
But I dealt with it very quietly. I think she assumed I had another battery. But no. I told myself, you will just ask Ana and Valeria to take a few pictures. You will email them, asking them to send the pictures to you. This does not matter. And that is how it was. I am even glad, because now I for certain will have contact again with them. And have a couch to sleep on in Buenos Aires, I think. Because we passed the morning at the café, huddling under an umbrella, drinking our cafecitos, laughing about how “Siempre tienes que pagar! Pagar! Pagar! Nunca en mi pais tienes que pagar para ir al baño! Nunca!” (It may not be much, but you have to pay, pay, pay, to travel here. Need to pee? Get your coin purse.)
And then the walnut I left for Inti on the highest pass paid off. The sun came out. We ran back in. And it was like I dreamed! I probably spent three hours just looking at it. This is the most personal part of my trip. I don’t know WHY I have been so transfixed with this place. I don’t even know that much about it (no one does). It is all intuitive. But along with being architectural geniuses, and an amazing people, the Inkas had something in common with realtors. Location, location, location. The site is cradled by mountains, in a place made for it. The condor shape of the ruins lies surrounded by mountains, the Urubamba river winds around all sides. It’s lower than all the surrounding mountains (perhaps why it wasn’t found until 1911) but still all alone, thousands of meters above the river. Especially because I had worked for it for 28 miles, I had a sense of the surrounding mountains, how it was connected to the highlands. And as my mom said while I was philosophizing about rationalizations for my mesmerization, Maybe it’s because it’s really beautiful.
It was totally fulfilling. Because for me, there is not another place on the planet that I have felt this way about. That I would travel to see like I have with Machu Picchu. I felt like a pilgrim, but to what I don’t know. I realized that I no longer need to do things just to prove that I can do anything I decide to do– I have done it, there’s nothing else like this. I DO need to do something with that knowledge. And I do need to travel more. It makes me learn, and it makes me feel gratitude.
SO. Tore myself away. Went to the town below the ruins. Found a hostel, with a private room and bathroom, for 20 soles. This is a great price, let me tell you (about $8). So I bought stuff to clean up (remember: I wore the same thing for three straight days, then got rained on) and food for dinner. Remembered I had no bowl for my yogurt/granola/banana. So I borrowed one from the too-complimentary, too-inclined-to-climb-the-stairs-behind-me hostel man Percy. Fine.
After eating, to the showers! I realize I have no towel, so I go down and rent one for five soles from Percy. Fine.
But then, there’s no hot water. So I get dressed, go tell Percy. He comes and checks (sort of creepy), changes the gas tank, still nothing. He says, ehhh, yeah, no hot water, this happens sometimes. Of course it does. Muchas gracias.
Then, I clog the toilet. Sorry. But it’s part of the story. And twice scare myself badly, trying to flush things down. Decide to leave it, no big deal, serves them right anyway for not having hot water.
I finally resolved to take a shower anyway, since I really needed it, and it wouldn’t kill me, and would probably make me feel better. But it was...colder than I could handle. Ice cold. I got soaking wet and got out.
I had just dressed and was combing my hair when Percy knocked and said the hot water was back. Of course it was. So even though I didn’t really want to any more, I took a shower. Dried with the wet towel. Dressed again, in the rain-damp clothes.
The best decision I made all evening was buying beer (A beer! Singular! Mi pastilla para dormir/sleeping pill.) Just didn’t know how much I would need it. Second best, buying an Inka Cola T-shirt, which I’m still wearing as I type back in Cusco, because everything was dirty and wet/is at the laundry. Very interesting that these little things, when they have a few kinks, can be so stressful. It was the most worked up I was for the whole trek. More than when my camera died in Machu Picchu before I even got a decent picture of myself there. There’s no profound reason that traveling makes you grateful for little things!
Tomorrow, to Iquitos. And I have no expectations. Therefore I expect to not be disappointed.
I’m back in a week. Thank you for reading. I hope it has been worthwhile. I am incubating a plan to have all of you come join me for photo/video-viewing, Peruvian food, Chilean wine, and trinket-distributing.
Love!
Two afterthoughts, in reference to my night in the hostel:
1) I yell “Shit!!!” at retrospectively appropriate moments. Unfunny moments.
2) That town was called Aguas Calientes (hot water).
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| The picture I took back in Cusco, while my laundry dried, after I tried to turn on my camera...and it turned on. It's a mystery...our guide said that Machu Picchu was a place of mysterious and holy energy, and that the energy was so strong people often had trouble with their electronics. Guess my camera died...then was reincarnated. |
