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| View of Salkantay |
It's 4am in the morning on the corner of deserted street in Cuzco, it may be August but the altitude ensures I’m shivering despite my new alpaca sweater underneath my jacket. I’m sitting on my rucksack in the darkness crossing every digit, hoping that I haven’t just had my first experience of being ripped off. Thankfully just as I am beginning to think hyperthermia is setting in, two headlights skid around the corner with a screech and bounce over the cobbles until the rickety van comes to stop next to me. The side door is heaved open and out pops a small lean man with a shock of jet black hair and an utterly cheeky grin. This was Jimmy, Jimmy was our guide for the next five days as he navigated us across a section of the Inca trail which lay opposite the majestic Salkantay peak.
It soon became clear that despite having Gold Duke of Edinburgh Award under my belt that I was going to have to seriously persevere, it wasn’t so much the constant inclines (but they certainly didn’t make it easier) but the false hope Jimmy would instil in us “one hour, one hour” he would cheerfully chirp- one Jimmy hour became the running joke. Despite the constant build up of lactic acid it was the most spectacular trek I’ve ever done- everyday the landscape would change so dramatically it was if we’d walked through the wardrobe, except Narnia wouldn’t be able to quite compete. Rolling hills speckled with grazing pastures would give way to sheer craggy cliffs and snow topped summits. One minute we’d be walking along the spine of a range before sharply descending into a v-shaped valley, the sheer magnitude of the backdrop was inspiring, I’ve never felt so small as when we pitched our tiny tents on the first night in the shadow of the 6271m Salkantay, which translates as ‘savage’ mountain As we ascended to 4600m next to this mighty zenith I understood its infamy, the snow swirled so tightly around us visibility disappeared and breathing became a challenge. Despite being the youngest I was always trailing behind, so Jimmy initiated me into the ways of the Inca- chewing Coca leaves to give me the buzz I needed to carry on. The bitter leaves form a mulch that is none too pleasant but after a while all is forgotten as you find your respiring evens and every step doesn’t take all of your will power. Despite Coca leaves being the source of modern day cocaine, they are completely legal but Cocaine is strictly forbidden!
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| Don't look down! |
At the close of the second day we wound down a meandering path to the floor of a rainforest covered valley, feeling like Indiana Jones I peered into the undergrowth trying to catch a glimpse of the birds screeching nearby. The trail on the following days was flatter and more inhabited. We trudged through tiny villages with children running care free chasing anything that moved; chickens, puppies, butterflies. At one point we were loaded into a truck, crammed in like sardines it was best not to look down at the drop we came all too close too while taking corners maybe just that little bit too fast. On the approach to Aguas Calientes the scenery changed again, fast flowing rivers cascaded over polished beige rocks and parrots nested above the path. We traversed along the railway track and rickety rope bridges before again sampling a unique form of transport- a basket pitched high above raging rapids, moved with pulleys back and forth, barely enough room for you let alone your rucksack as well!
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| Machu Picchu |
And then the morning of our visit to the ancient ruins dawned…rain. Not just any rain, torrential showers in the middle of the dry season. The mist hung low in the air which made the famous view from atop the Huayna Picchu impossible. None the less the architecture can still be appreciated as a feat of human achievement; I just hope I get to go back before the hoards of tourist buses shift the stones of the city irreparably!
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