Few experiences for me have evoked such strong emotion upon its conclusion. Being the homebody I am – even though I love traveling to new places – normally by the end of a trip, I’m ready to jet back to California and resume normal life, at least temporarily. That said, I found that for this trip to Peru, I didn’t want to leave. Not even the tantalizing sirens of pristine Costa Rican beaches were enticing enough. Just let me hike one. more. mountain.
So I’m writing a post about it. A tribute to the good ol’ days when I first started this blog, this is going to be a pure recount of my adventures hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. I’m writing all of this while it’s still fresh in my mind, so I can properly capture my life’s most fleeting feelings/moments. After all, my memory sucks.
It starts with a briefing at the Alpaca Expeditions office in Cusco, Peru. Among the many trek options, I had chosen this company for my four-day-three-night trek to Machu Picchu along the 42km (26 mile) Inca Trail because, well… Google. *shrug* No rocket science here. They held a briefing at 6PM the evening before to set expectations on what we were about to undertake (as well as, more practically speaking, prep us for what to pack in our duffels). I looked around the room of 10 other fellow trekkers. Everyone seemed to be around my age.
“Quiet bunch,” I thought. “Are they shy? Is everyone just going to be silent the entire hike? Who will I commiserate with along the way?“
This was going to be an interesting four days.
One of our guides, Alvin (“like the chipmunk”), went through each day’s itinerary in painstaking detail. I looked around the room: basically no one was storing any of this to memory. Good, me either. I was a bundle of nerves, anxious to get started. Then Alvin slapped me back to reality:
“Pick up time will be 4AM at your hotels tomorrow.”
………………………. Guess I’m not sleeping tonight, y’all.
And sleep I did not. After “going to bed” at 10PM, I basically woke up every hour to transfer another item from my suitcase to the trek duffel “just in case”. We had a strict weight limit of 3kg for personal items in our duffels, and I will not lie: I did not weigh my stuff, but I’m pretty sure I either came dangerously close to the limit or (perhaps) (maybe) (ok definitely) exceeded it. (sorry)
Trek Day 1: “THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE OUR ‘MODERATE’ HIKING DAY????? <dramatic renaissance fainting pose>”
I can fully confirm that at 3AM I did not “wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy.” It was more a “let’s get this shit over with” vibe. <packs more stuff into the duffel thereby DEFINITELY exceeding 3 kilos>
Prior to this, I had never undertaken a multi-day trek before, and the longest I had camped was one night. How was this “can’t-sleep-if-there-is-the-slightest-noise” germaphobe going to fare in a 3-night intense hiking/camping excursion?! WELL WE WERE ABOUT TO FIND OUT.
I hopped onto the bus at 4:30, mumbled “good morning” to the rest of the trekkers, and after we picked everyone up, we had a 1.5 hour drive to our “breakfast stop”. You guessed it: this beezy slept the entire way there.
Our breakfast spot was at the site where all of our porters slept the night before each trek. Alvin mentioned that Alpaca Expeditions was one of the first companies to build sleeping accommodations for porters (an often overlooked and mistreated worker population in Peru). Many other companies were quickly following suit with this model. Along the trip, I learned more and more about the progressive nature of Alpaca Expeditions and their many contributions back to the local community. (Thanks again, Google.)
This was the Porter’s House:
When we arrived, they were packing our duffels/their packs. In recent years, laws were passed to protect workers’ rights, such that each porter could carry at most 25-30 kilos (55-65 lbs) of weight on their backs for a trek. The porters carried: our stuff, tents, sleeping mats, food, cooking equipment, A TOILET. Bless them.
The total number we contest to this day but I think we had 15? porters and 2 chefs for our group of 11 trekkers. All were local to the area surrounding Cusco. They were called “the green machine” (for obvious reasons – look at them). They moved as a unit and were incredibly strong and fearless (literally running down rocky mountains like it wasn’t possible to slip and die at every step), yet at the same time shy, gentle, and humble. There are no words to describe my awe towards this group of amazing men.
Immediately upon sitting down at the communal table for breakfast, everyone on the trek started to introduce themselves, and to my utter surprise, right off the bat we had pleasant, open conversations.
The group (later deemed Team “Pollos Ricos”) was a very international bunch:
- 2 Germans
- 2 Polish
- 2 French
- 2 Italians
- 2 Americans (U! S! A!)
- 1 lonely British (hi, Sam.)
Totally unrelated, but here is the tiniest freaking kitty I had ever seen in my life:
After breakfast, we started our hike at 2720m elevation. There was no turning back now! (jk, they did assure us that if we needed, we could pay 200 soles – about $50 – if we needed a horse to carry us back on day 1). Splendid backup option and not at all disheartening, no.
Fun fact: I was wearing 5 layers in that pic^. Little did I know that after the first 5 minutes of the hike I would never need 5 freaking layers again. I’m sweating right now just thinking about it.
So thus the trek started. And not gonna lie… even the first ever-so-slight uphill was killin’ me on day 1. I was straight up dry-heaving on any sort of incline. I guess par for the course if you’re hiking at 9K feet elevation….
Views were very nice and weather was perfect – probably about 60 Fahrenheit. I will be honest through, Day 1 was a blur because: (1) I was physically struggling up these mountains on what was supposed be a “moderate” hiking day; and (2) All the Inca sites and mountains at one point start blurring together.
Here are some of the doggos I saw at one of the communities we passed through. PERMISSION TO ADOPT?!?!?! (EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE OF THEM)
And here is a fat ass on the side of the road
After what felt like eons of hiking uphill (probably closer to 5.5 total hours), we finally reached our campsite for the night at Ayapata (3300m elevation). I would say that normally I consider myself a pretty fast and adept hiker, but nothing puts you in your place like witnessing a superhero Polish couple absolutely BOOK IT up the mountain without any signs of physical exertion. Their most casual walking pace was my slow-jog. Mind blown.
I collapsed into my tent, fully equipped with a nice comfy sleeping mat! They brought me a bowl of hot water to “bathe” myself (which, let’s be clear, while it wasn’t a real bath, was SO LUXURIOUS AND WELCOME after sweating through my 5 layers all day). Home sweet home for the next 3 nights.
Not a bad view to wake up to.
That evening we had a ceremony where the trekkers and porters all introduced themselves to the full group. It was there that I learned that (1) everyone (the Pollos Ricos) joining this trek was about the same age; (2) every single person spoke perfect spanish wtf?! (you all know I s t r u g g l e d through my introduction…)
During the happy hour + dinner, the group joyfully recounted their musings of the last day hiking. I don’t know about the rest of the trekkers, but at that moment I was stress-eating/thinking about one thing and one thing only: “Today was supposed to be moderate, and tomorrow the ‘challenging day’… Fucking hell, was I going to live to see another day?“
You know me: I straight up asked Alvin if I would survive.
“Don’t worry about it, just do it. As long as you follow us [your guides] you will do great.” Alvin reassured all of us.
Sorry, Alvin, I want to believe you but I can’t. My legs respectfully hate you.
Okay, BRIEF INTERMISSION TO TALK ABOUT THE ABSOLUTELY ASTOUNDING NATURE OF THE FOOD OVER THE COURSE OF THIS TREK. Our amazing chef Sergio not only carried the cooking supplies/food/everything up and down the same mountains that we were hiking, but he was cooking some of the most elaborate meals I had ever seen in my life. On a stove. On the ground. In the middle of the Andes mountains. I have no idea which day/meal this was, but LOOK AT THIS SPREAD, Y’ALL, LOOK AT ITTTTTT
It was honestly some of the tastiest, most gorgeous meals I’ve had in a while. Only made more impressive by the fact that he had probably 1/100 of a “normal” chef’s kitchen at his disposal. He was deep-frying, sautéing, steaming, THE WORKS. I was immensely impressed by his culinary genius/creativity. Sergio, if I haven’t said this enough already, I’ll say it again: you’re the man.
7:30PM, it was bedtime! Under normal circumstances, that would be a ridiculous statement, but given we had all woken up at 3AM that morning, we climbed into our tents.
Trek Day 2: “Kill. Me. Now.”
It poured rain at one point through the night. And yes, since I’m a light sleeper, I immediately woke up even with my ear plugs in. But in my utter exhaustion, fell right back to sleep…….. only to be gently awoken at 4AM by some murmured hustle and bustle as the porters/chefs got ready for the day ahead.
I will admit, hearing the gentle whispers of the porters was a nice alarm before the actual alarm.
4:15AM. “Buenos Dias, Mendi. Here is your coca tea.”
Coca tea – the elixir of life in the Andes mountains. It not only helps with elevation sickness, but gives a nice non-caffeinated kick to the day. … And is a damn good way to wake up (I was definitely disappointed after the trek when I wasn’t presented with a cup of coca team every morning…)
Here we were: our longest and most challenging elevation day <sobs>. The “final boss”, if you will (even though it was only day 2 of the 4-day saga). We were going to climb 4 straight hours through the “Orange Forest” to the highest pass of the trek, Dead Woman’s Pass – 4215m elevation – (or “Sleeping Woman’s Pass” to the less morbid souls out there). Then down for 2 hours. Why ‘down’, you ask? Oh no reason–ONLY TO GO UP ANOTHER 2 HOURS TO THE SECOND HIGHEST PASS (Runkuracay)–AND THEN DOWN AGAIN FOR 2 HOURS for our next camping spot. That morning, I was a mess in anticipation.
Palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy – it do be like that, Eminem.
The kicker was that today was gonna be WET. While it wasn’t straight-up raining, there was a persistent sprinkle/mist all day. That grey shirt I was wearing: Was it wet from the mist/rain? From the profuse sweat pouring out of my body? You will never know.
At the beginning of the trek, Alvin introduced us to something called “Agua de Florida”. At first, we were all like “wtf is this shit”, as he pours some liquid into our hands, tells us to rub our hands together, then INHAAAAAAAAAAALE the liquid. The first time we do it, we cough because the alcohol fumes are way too intense for our feeble bodies to handle. But let me tell you: this Agua was MAGICAL (are these actual drugs? I’m afraid to Google it.) It not only cleared up/opens up our lungs, but it also perked you up you like no cup o’ joe could! I was HOOKED (so much so that after the trek I bought my own bottle to bring home, I would appreciate no judgement thx)
But what was distinctly hilarious was that I noticed that whenever Alvin saw the group was even remotely dejected, he would immediately break out the Agua de Florida. “Time to give ’em a hit of the good stuff“, he probably thought to himself. And like Pavlov’s dogs, we would be there to receive it like the soulless junkies that we were.
Okay, now, I would like to take some time explain how one feels when hiking at such an elevation. You know when you’re undergoing general anesthesia for an operation and they put that mask on you and start pumping the gas, and as they’re counting down, you’re like “wait holy shit this burns OMG YOU’RE BURNING MY LUNGS OMFG I’M GONNA DI–– then you wake up”. Well, consider that this hike is the “omfg i’m gonna die” lung burning sensation, but you never wake up. It’s a persistent burn, for hours, where you’re breathing in as fast as you can, but it never quite feels like enough.
After 4 begrudging air-less hours – true to the name – I felt like a Dead Woman at Dead Woman’s pass. But we had made it to 4200 meter elevation (14,000 feet)!
Quick shoutout to my hiking poles for getting me up and down the mountains and saving me from eating shit countless times. Without them, I am nothing. Prayer hand emoji.
The Alvin panorama special again:
The celebration was shortlived, because we were not done just yet. We still had to climb down. Then up. Then down again. And it was only 11AM.
Along the course of the hike, Alvin told us about the spirits/ghosts that exists in the Andes. I’m not one to believe in ghosts, per se, but these stories chilled my body.
What also chilled my body was the following sentence from Alvin as we approached a neverending staircase: “This is the steepest section of the entire Inca Trail.”
And yet, we prevailed. This was my face when we got to the summit of the next pass (Runkuracay, 4000m)
Here, Alvin showed us how the native Quechua people made rope using straw found in the Andes.
To demonstrate how strong the rope was, Alvin and Saul (our other guide) had me swing on it like a little girl at a playground. Let me just say: It hurt. A lot. I actually checked after the trek and found a fat bruise on my left hip from that 3 second swing… Rope. Very strong. Yes.
Next we descended to our last Inca site of the day, which was Sayacmarka. Gorgeous site, with skies peaking out from the clouds.
We got to our campsite for the night, and here depicts the state of my physical and mental health:
That night, the food, of course, was incredible. But the REAL highlight was that our good man Sergio made ROASTED MARSHMALLOW STATIONS FOR US WHAAAAAAAAAT
My reflections after a particularly grueling Day 2 was that what got me through were: (1) my hiking poles; and, (2) in all seriousness, the people on this trek. When you’re trekking for a grand total of 30 hours over the course of 4 days, you naturally spark up conversation. You talk about life, love, and everything in between – anything to get your mind off of the fact that there was another set of switchbacks coming up ahead. We talked about topics ranging from book recommendations, to popular dating apps in Peru (Tinder and Bumble, in case you’re wondering), crazy El Salvador travel stories, foot fetishes. YOU NAME IT – we probably broached the subject over these 30 hours.
Not to mention all of our family-style sit-down meals. Every meal was another opportunity to learn something new about someone. To laugh among new friends. No matter how stupid the jokes were. (“Llama? I barely knew her!“) In a world where we’re all so hyper-connected through technology and yet starved of human connection, it was truly heartwarming to have some good, old-fashioned conversation around the dinner table. This I miss the most.
Trek Day 3: “Uh excuse me sir, I was promised today was going to be easy?”
Weather on Day 3 can be summed up with the following word (sorry not sorry to those who hate this word): MOIST.
But I was more optimistic this day. The worst was behind me and we had a wake-up call at – gasp – 5AM (what a treat to be able to “sleep in”!)
We hiked in the morning through the cloud forest and through some more gorgeous Inca sites. I feel like we were promised an “easy” day, but the uphills early in the day still threatened to murder me. Visibility wasn’t all that great on Day 3 so we don’t really know what we couldn’t see; but all the same, what we saw was pretty spectacular.
Admiring the views overlooking the Urubamba river are among some of my favorite moments of the trek. LOOK AT THIS GLAMOUR PHOTO OF THE BOYS (some of my best photography work, imo):
Of course, no trip is complete without a herpderp Mendi jumping pic collage
Another epic Alvin special:
Along the course of the hikes on Day 3, the guides were in contact with people back at civilization. Someone sent Alvin a video of the town at the base of Machu Picchu (called Aguas Calientes) being absolutely flooded by a mudslide (shit was wild). The train we needed to ride for 2 hours to get back after the trek was inoperable at the moment. Though Alvin reassured us that we always had a plan B, C, D, etc. etc., I could sense a bit of concern in his voice……………
………………
…….………… OH WELL BACK TO HIKING
Because Day 3 was short, AND because our group apparently had superhuman hiking speed, we chilled for quite a bit at the campsite, starting at 1PM. A few of us played a round of Spoons after lunch, and – sorry boyz – I ended up winning the entire thing. Must be those Azn ninja skillz. HIYAH.
In the afternoon, we took a quick fieldtrip to Wiñay Wayna for more Incan architecture and views.
When we got back to camp, we had our last dinner of the trip :’) They decorated the eating tent for us AND SERGIO BAKED A FULL ON EFFING CAKE???
At the end of this bittersweet dinner, where we expressed our appreciation for our chef and porters since we would part ways the next morning, we all went back to our tents. Pretty sure it was like 7PM, but all of us obliged because our wake up time was…. 3:45AM. Honestly at this point, we were used to the outlandish wake-up times. The crazier the better.
TOMORROW WAS MACHU PICCHU DAY.
Trek Day 4: “WHY THE F-CK ARE WE RUNNING”
To this day, I still don’t understand why we ran to Machu Picchu, but we did.
That said, rewind to 1AM in the morning. My body was clearly feelin’ some sort of way, because it was giving me reels and reels of intense, vivid dreams that night. Suddenly, I awoke from a crazy dream when I heard one of the porters (their tent was next to mine) suddenly started yelling as if experiencing nightmares. Thinking back on Alvin’s talk about how spirits roam the Andes mountains, I wondered if “something/someone” was passing through our camp that night…….
I don’t think I ever fell back asleep after that, but my body rode a wave of consciousness until our wake-up time around 3:30AM.
Today. Was. The. Day.
In record time, our group got ready, ate breakfast, and headed to the checkpoint. Didn’t even brush our teeth because we were so committed to the cause. To our dismay, at the hour of 4:15 freaking AM we found a group of 2 other people already waiting at the checkpoint before us. The gates to start trekking to the Sun Gate (the first views of Machu Picchu) wouldn’t open until 5:30AM, so we spent that hour sitting in pitch black darkness while other groups lined up behind us. (Oh yeah, we ended up brushing our teeth there, of course. Priorities.)
Eventually, the sun started peaking through the mountains. And like clockwork, 5:30AM, we were off to the races.
No really, it really felt like we were racing something. Racing what? I honestly couldn’t tell you.
The 2 folks ahead of us started off with their guide and got probably a 3 minute head start from us as our group made its way through the checkpoint.
….. Then we started BOLTING. “WHY THE FUCK ARE WE RUNNING?” I yelled, and no one answered. I think we just wanted to be the first at the Sun Gate? But if that were the case, why didn’t we stop running after we beat the group ahead of us? Again, I DO NOT KNOW.
We just kept running. Up and down, up and down. My lungs screaming at me to please. make. it. stop. But the collective action got the best of me and I just kept running running running. Never been strong in the face of peer pressure, you see. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
What a fucking chaotic morning, and honestly all I can do in retrospect is laugh at how ridiculous it all was. We were madmen on a mission that morning – caked in blood, sweat, and tears.
One last push up this GNARLY set of steep stairs, and then, there it was in the distance, in all its glory. One of the seven wonders of the world: Machu Picchu.
What a sight to behold. To say we all sighed in relief was an understatement. I think I speak for the entire group when I say it felt like we had all won the lottery getting to the Sun Gate that morning. This photo just about sums up my feelz for the day:
Now we descend straight to Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Incas. And what was crazy and something I didn’t fully realize until after our trip, was that Machu Picchu was completely empty when we visited. Maybe a couple of people sprinkled here and there, but for the most part, nothing like the hordes of tourists we’d normally see in videos/photos of the place. Incredible luck on our part, since later we learned that the day before we arrived, the place was PACKED.
<Cue obligatory slew of Machu Picchu pics. Don’t hate the playa, hate the game 😎>
Our absolute legendary guide, Alvin!
I don’t know why I was celebrating that hard at the time, because something was looming over six of us “lucky” trekkers. Prior to hiking these 42 kilometers, we had so graciously (*cough* naively) signed ourselves up to do an EXTRA CREDIT hike up Wayna Picchu after we got to Machu Picchu.
‘What is Wayna Picchu?’ you ask? It’s that honker of a mountain behind Machu Picchu that you see in the photos. Yes. That one.
Masochism was clearly a shared trait of ours.
So the six of us embarked on this daunting journey that was “sometimes-down-but-mostly-a-straight-up-scramble” to the peak of that mountain to see a different view of Machu Picchu.
Despite the physical exertion…. 10/10 would do it again. I’m like a birddddddd, I’ll only fly away….
Saul, our guide, at the top of the mountain stared at the sign for Wayna Picchu and its elevation, head cocked looking perplexed. “What’s up?” I asked him. “They keep changing the sign, last time I was here, elevation was higher…” LOL the mountain is shrinking, y’all.
The dream team at the summit. You can tell I did not appreciate when Saul decided to do the “Llama Sutra”………..>.>
After a brief stint at the top of the world, we descended, and met up with the rest of the group in Aguas Calientes for a wonderful last lunch. We had thought adventure-time was over……..
Oh HO HO had we thought wrong. Remember when I mentioned that Aguas Calientes was flooded from a mudslide the day before? Well yes, they were still clearing the debris off the tracks of the train we were supposed to take. So in effect, we were stranded. Alvin told us the worst case scenario: we may have to walk 2-3 more hours to the next train station to take it from there. When I heard that option, I almost broke down into tears. Instead, I just drank more beer.
We could tell Alvin and Saul were frantically making calls, pulling a lot of strings to make impossible happen, so that we did NOT have to hike 10 more kilometers after a 42km trek.
…….. And Alvin pulled through. God almighty did Alvin pull through. He got the entire group luxury tickets on another railway back to Ollantaytambo, bless his soul.
That said, the path to get to this train was not easy. Literally and figuratively. Not only did we have to wait an hour for the train itself, but getting onto the train was sheer and utter chaos.
But we made it! I couldn’t write a better ending to this saga, because along the course of the train-ride back, we saw a rainbow peak through the mountains and clouds. Just for us!
We had made it back to our starting point, and bus’d back to Cusco, karaoke-ing the entire way, 2 hours later than planned.
Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to describe it, but I hope you can tell from my recount: Every twist and turn was so. Incredibly. Worth it.
Not to be over-dramatic, but I definitely grieved the conclusion of this trek. At breakfast in the hotel the next morning (at *gasp* 7 o’ clock in the morning), I couldn’t help but lament the fact that Sergio wasn’t cooking up his goodies, or that I wasn’t going to see another spectacular view that day. I’ve been a sentimental person all my life, but I had never responded to any other solo trip like I had this one. Why? Honestly not totally sure, but I think it might have something to do with the self-discovery and transformation that came with putting myself through a 4 day 3 night trek. Some realizations truly astounded me, e.g.:
- Our bodies are capable of some freaking spectacular things. With barely any training, this mofo got through 42 kms of pure pain/agony at 5000m elevation. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat. Yes, I got immense help from my hiking poles, verbal encouragement from my trek-mates, and who could forget about the Agua de Florida… but it was THIS body, THESE dinky legs, THESE lungs that got us through it all.
- I’m a selective germaphobe. In other words, under “normal” circumstances, I “ew” my way through life. That said, when the time comes where I need to lax those habits, I sure can. After all, there was no doubt that I smelled like absolute garbage, and I’m pretty sure I could’ve fried an egg with the oil that had accumulated on my scalp by the end of the trip (you’re welcome for the lovely image). And yet, I didn’t think much of it. We were all suffering together, and in there lied a certain level of apathy on my physical hygiene. Hooray???
- I don’t know what this says about me and my outlook on humanity, but I honestly did not expect to enjoy the company of the other trekkers as much as I did. The Pollos Ricos were all amazingly humble, funny, and charismatic people, and I wish I got to spend more time getting to know each of them. I’m thinking through each individual, and can honestly say I learned something different from every person – and for that I am immensely grateful. Life is crazy, weaving people in and out of our existence with no warning or fanfare. All I can say is that these four short days were not enough, Pollos. I miss you all.
And that is it! I know it’s been awhile since I wrote a pure travel post. It’s been more than 3 years. When I reflect on why it’s been so long since my last one, it’s honestly because I have trouble starting. I want each post to be so perfect, and this perfection requires time, so much time. I get paralyzed. So I never start.
But like Alvin said when I asked if I would survive Day 2 of our Inca Trail Trek: “Don’t worry about it, just do it.”
Progress over perfection, baby. Just freaking do it. Thanks for the nudge, Alvin.
With love,
Mendi
the wanderlust is real. 