‘It´s not a hill, it’s a mountain, as you start out the climb.’ -U2, I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t go Crazy Tonight

The start of the climb with my group

So anyone who knows my travel style knows that I like to wing it. I signed up for the famous 4 day hike to climb the 45km Inca Trail to Machu Picchu (one of the 7 wonders of the world) months ago because I’ve heard that that’s THE thing to do if you want to see Machu Picchu. I don’t think I’ve actually met anyone who’s done the Inca trail, but if you have to book something months in advance, it must be cool, right? (The trail is governed by the Peruvian gov’t; only 500 people per day are allowed on it at a time, hence the booking months in advance.)

Me at the beginning, with no idea what I'm in for

 The trek was to start the emotionally exhausting day after I parted ways with John. I was debriefed the night before; they were dismayed to find out that I didn’t have a lot of rain gear (it’s the rainy season!), my small back pack wasn’t big enough so they lent me one, sent me shopping for necessities like bug spray and mittons and a hat (a cheezy tourist one was all I could find!), and I rented a small sleeping bag from them. They also eyed my beat up running shoes with a bit of suspicion (hiking boots are preferred). But hey, lock and load, right? I mean, I’m a runner and I have done a marathon. I did hikes every day in New Zealand! Climitization? I’ve been thousands of meters above altitude for weeks now (admittedly huffing and puffing more than I care to admit). Bring it on!

Stunning Scenery

My wake up call came at 5am and I groaned. I felt uncharacteriscally tired and I wanted to sleep forever, but I forced myself out of bed. The start of the trek was a few hours away by bus and I met the 2 others in my group, along with my tour guide Maria (roll the r for the true Spanish pronunciation).  Even though our group was small, for camping and meals, we would be joining another group of 8.

Stopping for delicious Peruvian meals was a welcome break

Within one hour of the trek I was huffing and puffing. I swore some invisible fairy had put a zillion rocks in my backkpack because it simply had to be much heavier then when I started. My back was aching and I thought, ’45 kilometers and 4 days of this?!’ I thought of jumping off a cliff right then and there. The Incas were supposed to be geniuses, but somehow their belief system dictated that the climbing should be done up and down the mountains as opposed to around them. Now I really don’t think it’s THAT gruelling. But I’m not going to lie. I found it very tough. It was probably a combination of being exhausted, having worn out running shoes, still battling a cold with conjested sinuses, not being psychologically prepared for it, and the altitude. But think of climbing stairs for 3 hours straight. That was day 2 when we had to climb 1200m to 4200m(and it usually takes 5 hours, so my group was extra quick so I had to give ‘er so I wouldn’t the one to slow the group down). The tour guides call that part ´The Gringo Killer´. The thing is that usually when you climb up, you are rewarded with a nice climb down. Not on this trail. The climbs down were so steep that they were downright scary. I fell on my ass at one point, thankful that my backpack cushioned my fall. It was treacherous at times. I was so thankful I brought my iPod. Being a bit of a music junkie, I have always relied on music to get me through tough times in life, from emotionally exhausting points to physically exhausting times. My iPod saved my life as I huffed up that damn mountain (Tiesto fans unite!), gasping for air every 5 minutes at some point. And I thought I was in shape!

I made it to the top! And I'm not dead!

We passed locals leading horses and donkeys and llamas up and down the trails. Our tents and food were carried by porters. Our combined group had 11 tourists and 2 guides, and we had 10 porters who carried all the food, tents and even a food tent, table, and little plastic stools for sitting around the table on. By law the porters are only allowed to carry 25kg, and they practically run up and down the trail to get to the campsites and food sites before we do. The chef made us delicious Peruvian meals fraught with unique and flavorful spices. Needless to say, mealtimes and breaks were highly anticipated.

A porter listens to his 'vintage iPod' while he carries our camping supplies

A porter adjusts his load along the way

The locals use the path, too

An Inca-Made Lake En Route

The camping facilities were primitive at best. What they called a bathroom was so outrageous it was better to go in the great outdoors. My sleeping bag was warm but to say it yeilded a comfortable night of sleep would be a major embellishment. Indeed the only reason I slept reasonably well two of the three nights was sheer exhaustion. One night we stayed at a high altitude and it was absolutely freezing.

Are We There Yet?

The wake up calls came as early as 4am, and I am not exaggerating (I have been up before the sun more times in the month I’ve been away then probably the past 5 years of my life!). The wake up calls were cute, though. In the pitch black, puncutred by an annoying rooster crow, a porter would tap on my tent and say, ‘Buenos Dias!’ (Good Morning). I would open my tent as he handed me a piping hot cup of cocoa tea (hot water with cocoa leaves- the leaves used to make cocaine). ‘Sucre?’ He would ask. ‘No gracias, gracias Senor.’ (I am pleased to say that I have learned quite a few spanish phrases here, including ‘I have very big feet’. That was taught when everyone in the group was admiring my flip flops that have a bottle opener at the bottom.)

Porters Set up Camp For Us

But man, those mornings started very early just so we could beat the heat, and it was exhausting.

The scenery was, of course, breathtaking. Begonias and orchids grew wild and the mountains were majestic. Rushing water was was often heard or seen, and walking through the rainforest–even on treacherous paths–is always a treat.

It's always beautiful everywhere you look

Begonias, one of my mom's favorite flowers, grow wild

Orchids grow wild too

Our group was great. 1/2 Spanish and 1/2 English, telling stories and communication was amusing most of the time. It was a crazy group. On Halloween night we all crowded around the table and someone got out their iPod with portable speakers and cranked ‘Thriller’ while we all tried to do the motions. Then we felt we deserved ‘We are the Champions’ for surviving the most difficult day, the 1200 meter climb. We sang our hearts out. I told stories with exaggerated motions (specifically the story of the racoon who partied too hard) and they tried to teach me some Spanish (hence the big feet phrase). We had a great group representing multiple countries (America, Australia, Spain, Brasil, Argentina) and ages (early 20′s to 50). I was the only one travelling solo and was surprised that this fact made me feel empowered. If someone would have told me that the day before I left, it probably would have reduced me to tears again. But now that I have processed the travelling alone bit, I feel strong about it. I know I will have my days, but even more than that I know I will get through them.

Going Down Can be More Difficult Then Up

The first night there were no showers. Imagine being so sweaty that you get to your tent, whip off your shirt to find out that it’s beyond damp- it’s wet. And then having to crawl into your sleeping bag. Yup, welcome to primitive living. The next night was a slight improvement. They called it a shower, but a cold trickle more aptly describes it. It was so cold I washed myself minimally. The third night we had hydro and could pay for a lukewarm shower. Hallelujah!

More scenery

All in all, the climb up the Inca trail was much more gruelling then I antipicated, but not impossible and good for me. It was an adventure and a challenge and an unforgettable experience. I would highly recommend it to anyone with a sense of adventure who enjoys a moderately physical challenge and the great outdoors. If that’s not you, take the train to Machu Picchu instead.

Speaking of Machu Picchu, on day one I thought I would never make it, but I did! More on that wonder of the world later.

Running Water Can Usually be Seen and Heard