on peru: lake titicaca adventure

What a hangover! The night out was good but the punishment was so, so bad. With a 10 hour bus trip ahead of us to take us from Cuzco to Puno on Lake Titicaca, the entire team was looking forward to sleep, food, and fluids. However bad we were feeling surely did not compare to Joe who returned 10 minutes before we were supposed to leave! Needless to say he was very quiet for the majority of the journey.

Now, as it turns out we weren’t on a direct bus to Puno. We were on a tour bus which made a number of stops along the way. Any other day and I would have been very interested in hopping off and seeing what Peru had to offer. But today I was reeling with a hangover and was in no mood for any of it. Not a good attitude I know but it couldn’t be helped. 

The long road East took us through small, bleak towns where the majority of buildings are incomplete (apparently this is the result of some absurd Peruvian tax law where no one finishes their homes to save money), stopping of at museums which were little more than two-room houses with rocks on shelves. We got to stop for lunch which was a small relief – though the food was very poor. After that it was a straight shot to Puno, arriving as night began to fall. 

I do not doubt that the landscape and scenery would have been very impressive had it been sunny, but it wasn’t so we saw very little. The highlight of the trip was when we encountered some freaky Alpacas on one of our stops.

Puno was a nice sight, with a carpet of lights climbing the surrounding hills around the lake front. The city centre is a hive of activity. The streets are narrow, with buildings built hard up against the roads, often leaving little or now space for pedestrians as taxis and buses hurl up and down the streets. By this time it was raining, with waterfalls cascading down from high above, splashing into pools and rivers which flow down the streets towards the lake – Not sandal weather! There are people everywhere, milling around, avoiding the rain and waves of water thrown up as cars pass by.

We were led to our hostel, a long, narrow building reaching back from the street front. Our rooms had all the necessities; toilet, shower, sink, bed (I think the mattress was actually just planks of wood), and even a small TV which got some English channels (not that we’d waste a lot of time in our rooms). The rooms weren’t exactly stylish or clean but it had everything we needed. 

Our guide took us out for a chinese (hey we just fancied something fried!) and a short walk around the block. The rain was still coming down so we called it an early night as we’d be up and out again to catch the boat out onto the lake. 

I think we were unfair to Puno, just as we were to Lima. We weren’t in the best of spirits anyway, and with the weather, we allowed ourselves to just lump Puno onto the ‘shite’ list when we’d hardly seen a thing. If I’m ever in Peru again, I hope to pass through Puno and give it a second try.

on peru: trek day 5

In the early morning of the fifth day of our trek, I awoke thinking that tomorrow we would make the final climb to Machu Picchu. It was a good feeling knowing I’d made it over the mountain and the previous days of the trek. Before I left for Peru my family and friends were warning me that my complete lack of preparation would see me hurt or killed, so it was nice to shrug off the previous days as challenge overcome.

The first leg of today’s trek would see us follow the path, climbing up the valley wall 700m above us before making the steep descent into the neighbouring valley. Leaving so early in the morning meant we would be sheltered from the sun’s heat for the duration of the ascent, which was a small mercy. Setting off through the narrow, forest lined trails from the plantation and back onto the trail, we waved good-bye to our last jungle campsite and made up the way we had gone the day before.

The climb took all of three hours of constant hiking and clambering up stone stairways. Even in the shade and morning chill, it wasn’t long before our group was panting and peeling our t-shirts from our slick skin. The walk was constant and punishing, but every now and then, rewarded us with a break in the jungle and unrivalled views out over the beautiful green valley as the sun rose over the ridges.

Sadly, we couldn’t stand here forever. And so continued on, hiking along the narrow path, fringed by dense jungle and punctured with sudden breaks in the forest or waterfalls cascading down the valley wall. As we approached the day’s zenith the temperatures rose further, leaving us wiping our faces of arms of sweat and flies. We were in sore need of a break by the time we reached the last 50m or so of ascent, which rapidly went from a gradual path, to a climb on a steep, dirt stairway more like a dried river than a path. This was a hard climb which broke the lines of our group as we had to go at our own pace to reach the top. I’m proud to say that I was able to stay up near the front and managed the final struggle to the top.

The change was instant. We went from a path on a steep valley wall, to a small clearing in the middle of some incredibly dense forest. Tall, moss and vine covered trees reached upwards, their feet buried by ferns and carpets of greenery and plant life. It was cold under the canopy. The sweat leaving us shivering as we dried ourselves out and had a break as our group came together one by one. It was then that I heard this deep, guttural breathing sound above us. Rolphy announced that it was the sound of a sleeping howler monkey up in the trees, though nothing could be seen curled up in the dense green, roof.

Once rested, we set off along the top of the ridge before beginning our steep descent down a path similar to the rugged river bed-type we covered in the final climb – such a descent is very hard on your legs and knees, and ours was no exception. The path was fringed by forest in the same way the ascent had been, offering brief glimpses to faraway ridges and mountains. Suddenly we were dumped out on a small clearing where a small Inca ruin sat.

As Rolphy described to us that small sites like these litter the hills and valleys surrounding Machu Picchu, we wondered around and found a small collection of buildings on a lower terrace. We took it as a photo opportunity and started snapping. We were shocked when Rolphy pointed to the ridge across the valley, towards a long, light green mark on the ridge line – Machu Picchu! We could see it from across the void, perched on a sharp ridge which plunged down into the valley below. It gave us a boost to see our target after a few days of hard slog.

We continued on our steep, punishing descent with slightly more excited yammering than before. However it wasn’t long before the suffocating heat, lack of wind, and unrelenting sun soured our moods and all chat died away for the three hour climb down the sheer valley wall. It wasn’t long before mozzies, flies, and wasps were whizzing around us, adding to our discomfort.

Note: the wasps in this part of the jungle are not the little yellow and black things that pester you back home. These are big, black, evil fuckers the size of your thumb that can easy keep up as you run away like a child.

Despite the slightly miserable conditions, we were once again treated to views of a jagged landscape of valleys and mountains, all carpeted in verdant green forest. The beauty of the landscape always catches you off guard, even after hours of hiking through it. The descent was hellish but it eventually ended. Leaving us at the bottom of the valley where the Riu Urubamba river surged past in a white torrent. Once the group was together we crossed the narrow suspension bridge strung across the wide river, and followed the path through tall rushes and bushes.

This section was just as hot as the descent but was lightened by a slight breeze coming over the river, making this walk most pleasant. Once again it was the landscape which I most admired as I hiked along in the pounding heat. A sudden break in the valley wall revealed a huge waterfall thundering down and over the valley wall and into the Riu Urumbamba. Waves of spray washed over us as we passed on a bridge and onto a dirt road leading around into the next valley, where the road gave way to a huge industrialised track along the river, ending at the hydroelectric plant. This final stretch of the walk seemed to take ages as we made our way along the dusty road in the searing heat.

We came to a train stop near the plant where we could stop to get refreshments and have lunch. This break was sorely needed, though by now most of us had finished our water and were forced to stock up from a small shop for the hours ahead. The walk began parallel to the train tracks before suddenly merging with them, forcing us to walk on a narrow gravel strip – dangerously close if a train came along.

We followed the tracks in the relentless heat for a long time before reaching a rust-red bridge crossing a bend in the river. The pedestrian crossing here, was little more than thin sheets of metal laid over metal beams. Some were barley fixed to the frame, bouncing wildly as we crossed. It was now that a great freight train came upon us, thundering over the bridge, shaking the entire structure and us with it. The long blue snake was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving us shaken but unfazed as we continued on into the tunnel of trees which fenced the tracks. Here the only noise was the rustle of leaves in the wind and birds over the river. The line stretched away from us, following the river through this deep ravine of a valley.

When the trees finally ended, they gave way to sheer stone walls and a glaring sun over head. I began to bake in the heat and quickly became dehydrated. The supplies I picked up at the train stop were long finished and I was starting to get the headaches and cracked lips I’d been warned about at the start of the trek.

The tracks seemed to go on and on, with little relief from the heat and no water to relieve my thirst it was a punishing afternoon. Suddenly the forest opened up to reveal a busy road of backpackers, buses, and locals. We had arrived at our campsite at the base of Machu Picchu and just a fifteen minutes walk from Aguas Calientes. We made the last stretch of the walk, following the twisting river around a buckle in the valley before reaching the tiny tourist town.

The Riu Urumbamba cuts through the centre of the town, leaving little ground to build on. As a result there are few buildings shorter than 4 stories, separated by narrow alleyways lined with market stalls and crowds of locals and tourists milling throughout. There are only a handful of roads, all congested with buses ferrying people up and down to the Inca city high above. Aguas Calientes struck us as having a very lively atmosphere with music spilling out from all the bars and restaurants which fringe the streets. We were led up to a tiny place overlooking the river where we had drinks and supper. We rewarded ourselves with beer and pizza after days of soup and rice. We earned a break and rightly took it before heading back to camp in the evening.

on peru: trek day 4

The fourth day of the trek began with the crossing of a narrow, surging river which came tumbling down from the ravine above us. The crossing was little more than a path of mud steps pounded out of the banks, separated by a scramble across huge boulders to the other side. We then followed a twisting road down the hillside to another river where we had to cross a much wider torrent of water. Here the original bridge was long gone, and had been replaced with a long narrow timber construction which bounces wildly as you run across.

From here on we spent most of the day following an undulating path through the forest alongside the river. The forest and deep valley provided shelter from the sweltering heat that plagued us on previous days and made todays hike quite pleasant by comparison. Insects and mozzies still whir around you, but a thorough application of DEET helps keep them at bay.

We followed what Rolphy referred to as a ‘Peruvian flat’ i.e a path that climbs and drops as much as it had on any other part of the trek. This was much easier on our legs than the 3 hour climbs and descents which bugger your knees if you’re not used to it. Eventually we stopped off at a small village for lunch in a very relaxed, open walled restaurant overlooking the ravine and surrounding forest. It was the perfect place to put the feet up for half an hour before continuing on to Lucmabamba and the entrance to the Machu Picchu sanctuary.

From here, the path changes from road, to a gentle incline of grass and stone steps. Though the slope is gentle, it is constant, and in places is closer to a stair case. The path was tiring compared to the walk we’d just had, taking us upwards through coffee plantations and through tunnels of trees, suddenly opening up providing views down the valley and over the tiny patches of green farm nestled in the dense jungle. Flocks of green parrots swarm far down below, over the forest canopy and along the valley. Be warned, most farms which line the path are guarded by semi-domestic wild dogs. It is important to walk past and make no threatening moves for fear of attack.

We followed the steep path through clefts in the valley wall where the slopes plunge, almost vertical, with waterfalls around you as you pick your way along the narrow path. We climbed half way up the ridge, being treated to beautiful views and light breezes before having to turn back and head down to our campsite in one of the coffee plantations.

At our campsite we were given a tour of our host’s plantation and given an in depth description of coffee farming and production. We even got the opportunity to roast our own beans and grind our own coffee to have before our evening meal. Our host’s farm even had a small shop where we bought some wine and got a bit jolly in our tents that evening :D. After all you’ve got to enjoy yourself!

Much later in the evening, I got up to use the toilet (little more than a shack) and was joined by a bat who flew in and fluttered around for a while and decided it wasn’t his scene before flying straight out again. Now I couldn’t remember when I’d had my last rabies jab so thought it would be a good idea to make a sharp exit.

on peru: trek day 3

The trek began after an early breakfast to weather which was not much better than the day before. Just a hundred or so metres above us there was still snow falling, the skies were still heavy and peppering us with drizzle and rain. The path was now a narrow track of mud, scree, and manure, taking us up into the pass.

What began as mud and rain quickly gave way to slush and snow. The winds began to pick up as we climbed higher, past cold streams with ice forming around stones and puddles, though the drizzle and snow was light, our faces were already soaked and freezing in the biting winds. We came across a small hut selling cheap plastic ponchos and I quickly snapped one up before the hikers behind us caught up and bought whatever was left.

It did little good. The blasted sheet of plastic got coated in dozen slush which constantly rose up and slapped me in the face as the gusts hurled around us.

If you google pictures of the Salkantay Pass, most of them show a steep, grassy trail through the mountains, bathed in sunlight. So I could be forgiven for expecting this would be our experience. However, the rains didn’t pass. Instead, by the time we reached the start of the pass, we were level with the snow line and were traipsing through light snow fall.

As we climbed higher the winds grew more wild and the Dickensian snow fall quickly worsened to a -10C blizzard. The strength of the gusts sucked the breath out of my lungs which were already struggling with the low oxygen levels. This was the most torturous experience of my life. Having to constantly stop to catch my breath, my legs were on fire as my weary muscles screamed for relief. It wasn’t long before our group was spread across the mountainside, continuously stopping and catching up with one another, encouraging each other to push on. Suddenly the people who you’ve only known for a few days become your crutch, helping you and pushing you onwards when you need it most, and you for them!

The higher we climbed, the harder it was to simply stay upright. The freezing cold was sapping us of our strength and warmth, our heads swimming with every step from lack of oxygen. in places the path plunged away on one side into the clouds, forcing you to hug the wall of snow for fear of being blown off on a long fall.

By now everything was soaking wet. Ice had formed around the hood of my jacket. When my poncho wasn’t busy doing fuck all to keep me dry, it was flying upwards to slap me in the face. I could barely manage ten steps before I had to pause and take a breath. I had a small backpack but it felt like a lead weight. Out of nowhere, my teammate Joe appeared, barely affected by all the crap that seemed to be dragging down the rest of us!

Joe is an extremely active individual who regularly climbs mountains and is planning to climb Mount Blanc next year.

In what was the most humbling act of selflessness, Joe took my pack from me and marched behind me, spurring me on up the last push before the summit. Though the bag weighed very little its sudden absence left me enough strength to go over the top without pausing. I will always be grateful for Joe’s help and encouragement. Indeed it inspired me to try and be more supportive to my other team mates.

Any high we got from reaching the summit was short-lived. The winds and temperatures on this side were much worse than what we’d just climbed through. Struggling ahead through a boulder field in a narrow cleft between the mountain and its siblings, we were pummelled by a constant torrent of wind and snow. Any path at the top was long since buried and so navigating back to the trail was sheer luck.

The group reunited a hundred metres below the pass and quickly made way down through desolate fields of scree, rock, and ice. It was still bitingly cold, but the air thickened in our lungs as we made a speedy descent. Before long we were clear of ice and wind and were reunited with our old friends rain and scree. About half an hour from the summit we stopped in at a farm for a break.

We had Quinoa soup and hot tea to get some energy into our bodies for the final push to our campsite. It was a while before we got some heat up and took some of the damp out of our clothes. It was apparent that we’d never dry out at this altitude, barely below the snow lines we’d just passed through. So we made way, refuelled and with a better mindset. This made all the difference as the chat soon came back, lifting the mood. Something which was sorely missed on the loneliness of the mountain.

Within an hour of leaving the farm-stop, we were in the jungle, shedding layers and wiping away the sweat! The change was remarkable. A stark reminder of the diverse landscape and changeable conditions in the Andes. We found ourselves in steep-walled valley, the view behind framing the Salkantay mountain we’d just passed.

It wasn’t long before we reached our camp for the night. Nestled in the corner where three, short valleys meet, it was an incredibly peaceful, and beautiful way to end what had been the most challenging experience of my life – So I thought to myself as I enjoyed the last of the evening sun.

on peru: cuzco

In comparison to Lima’s androgynous skyscrapers and concrete lumps, Cuzco has beautiful Spanish colonial buildings, cathedrals, squares, and cobbled streets. Where as our night in Lima gave us a glimpse of a city entering the age of globalisation, in Cuzco we saw a town which wears it’s heart on it’s sleeve with an extensive city centre that has been wonderfully preserved.

On the last stretch of the flight you have to look up to see the white crags and peaks crawling past, thin roads snaking through the tortured surface far below. The plane threads its way down a long valley before landing, on possibly the largest stretch of flat land for miles around, and you are greeted at the terminal with pan flute music playing continuously.

Where Lima was shrouded in cloud, Cuzco bakes in the sunlight. There are no skyscrapers here, just stretches of development surrounding a large city centre, protected and preserved. For all these reasons, Cuzco instantly seemed more welcoming. Bright, airy, surrounded by wonderful architecture, historic Incan ruins, and a more relaxed atmosphere. Cuzco is a city that caters well to the thousands who pass through every year to follow the Inca Trail.

Though the downside of tourism are apparent; with hundreds of people milling around trying to sell you cheap goods imported illegally from Bolivia, hawking their services as guides, trying to sign you up to excursions, and trying to draw you into their shops and restaurants. Small prices to pay for a stopover in one of Peru’s nicest cities.

We were lucky enough to spend two nights here before setting off on the trek. Checking into the Ecopackers hostel on Santa Teresa we were relieved to see we wouldn’t have a repeat of the shithole in Lima. This hostel occupies one of the many colonial buildings near the central square. With high, whitewashed walls, large windows and a huge set of timber doors, you’d have no idea that the building inside has two courtyards, one lined with colonnades, wall plants, and mahogany floors, the other with a transparent roof, balcony, and access to bar – crucial. We got settled into our dorm rooms – crowded with bunk beds but clean, comfortable, and bright, before meeting with our guides for the induction.

Our liaison, David, then took us out on a walking tour of the centre, naming important landmarks and giving us a brief history of Cuzco, before finally stopping for lunch at a small but fantastic restaurant who’s walls were covered in paintings and pictures and served amazing food. Cuzco was getting better by the minute! Seeing as our group still hardly knew each other by this point (despite bonding over the free wine served on the 11hour flight from Madrid), meals like this gave everyone a chance to relax and start building the connections which would prove vital later.

               

We spent the rest of the day exploring the city and enjoying ourselves. Though I’d warn anyone heading up there that there’s a fair difference in altitude to what many will be used to. There’s simply less air! I even got out of breath changing from trousers to shorts – and it’s not as if I’m that out of shape. In terms of altitude sickness, the shortness of breath wears off after a day or so as your body adjusts. Initially I had very dry eyes, slight pressure between the eyes, and a runny nose. The best way to combat the effects is to keep hydrated. Drink plenty of water and take it easy the first day and you’ll be fine.

Which was a relief because the next day we went hiking up the hills behind the town, towards a large statue of Jesus, very similar to Rio’s Christ the Redeemer. Now, if we thought we were out of breath the day before, we were in for horrible surprise on this climb! One flight of steps in and I just glanced at my mate Luke and we just burst out laughing, then immediately had to catch our breath again to recover. It was amazing how thin the air seemed! Of course by the time you’ve done the trek, the air in Cuzco will feel like soup filling your lungs.

Our afternoon trek took us past the ruins of a huge Incan citadel, pillaged for stone by the conquistadors, but still an impressive sight – with stones the size of a family car, you’re left wondering how on earth they built the bloody thing. The ascent runs alongside a ravine before crossing and sharply climbing to the domed summit of Saxywama with its effigy of Christ gazing down on the city. We had amazing views over the Cuzco valley, it’s surrounding hills, and the snow-capped mountains in the distance. The achievement was a nice boost that set us up for the days ahead.

                                   

Early the following morning, under the cover of darkness, we were smuggled into a minibus and set off on a four hour drive through the winding mountain roads to the trail’s starting point in Mollepata. The trek begins!

The Incan Empire was built on thousands of miles of paths and roads connecting their settlements in a vast network occupying the Andes from Quito in Ecuador, to Santiago in Chile. As a result there are a number of trails and routes which can be followed to Machu Picchu. The trail our team followed started West of Cuzco, heading North, then East to Machu Picchu and Aguas Calientes, approximately 60km a 5 days worth of walking.