The City in the Clouds

Suddenly the ruins loomed up around me, cracked, and deserted. The early-morning cloud drifted like a spectral cloud of wraiths, shrouding the site in an opalescent blue glow. The cool moisture brushed my cheek, stubbly after 3 whole days hiking the Inca Trail. Dimly I could make out the looming bulk of Huayna Picchu towering above me. In the fog I could have been alone, isolated in the most famous of all mysterious lost cities, the testament of a dead civilisation. Did Hiram Bingham have this feeling, I wondered, this thrill of excitement up the spine mixed with the anxious churning of the stomach as it responded to the sight of the ghost-city, when he first discovered Machu Picchu in 1911?

There are other places for you to read about the background of Machu Picchu much better than I could ever hope to attempt. (Bizarrely enough, just after writing that phrase a friend phoned to refer me to a documentary showing on BBC!). I would recommend the works of Nigel Davies or (particularly) Peter Frost as suitably readable introductions. Suffice to say that the site was of great spiritual significance to the Incas, as evidenced by the outstanding complex of temples and ritual edifices to all aspects of Incan cosmology—the Earth Mother temple, the Condor temple, the ‘hitching-post of the sun’, ritual baths, carved ‘representation stones’ mimicking the peaks that can be seen behind them, the sun gate—as well as the fact that the Inca Trail exists, a great supply and pilgrimage route leading through the mountains. It was never discovered by the Spanish, and languished forgotten and intact, overgrown by cloud forest until a local family of farmers directed Bingham to one of the greatest archaeological finds of the 20th century. Hence what I will give you are my recommendations and impressions.

The Intipunku, or Sun Gate, is the classic entrance to the site, the unforgettable climax to over three days of slogging along the Inca Trail. However, when I visited in May 2006 this route was closed. Peru is seismically active, and a landslide had erased a large section of the trail leading from the gate to Machu Picchu—the scar can be seen from the site. This means that all visitors have to come through the main entrance on the road up from Aguas Calientes (entrance is $20). Any backpacks or sticks you might have also have to be surrendered to the left luggage office. However, if you have your passport you can get a very pretty stamp in there.

The first section you reach is a cascade of Incan terracing, the agricultural sector of the city. From here head up and to the left to the Watchman’s Hut. The classic postcard image of the site can be seen if you head south-west from here following the signs for the Inca Bridge. The bridge itself is not that awe-inspiring, but the vista from the grassy verge across the complex is. From here you can see that the core of the site was carved from the living rock – leading up to the Intihuatana the stairs, the plinth, and the hitching-post itself are all part and parcel of the peak. Then on top edifices have been constructed from locally-sourced stonework. The quarries are on the western side of the mountain, dropping down to the Urubamba valley. In many places the brickwork and great gouts of worked stone coexist, a mingling of the natural and the artificial.

Beyond the terraces the site leads away to the base of Huayna Picchu, which you can ascend to the Temple of the Moon (I forebore, being absolutely knackered from the Trail). A main plaza of short-cropped grass (llamas do the work of lawn-mowers here) divides two sets of buildings. On your right there are living apartments and the ‘Condor Temple’, named after a rock that resembles the majestic bird of prey. To the left there are the main temples, the sacristy and ceremonial baths, some superb instances of Incan stonework, and finally the steps up to the Intihuatana, a finger of rock pointing to the sky, echoing the peak of Huayna Picchu behind it. The gnome, carved from the mountain itself, known as the ‘hitching-post of the sun’, where it is supposed Inca priests used to ceremonially ‘tie’ the sun to stop it getting away is now cordoned off after it was chipped by a film crew making an advert (after a lot of wheedling our guide Julio finally revealed that the advert was for the American Budweiser beer company; they also left potholes from their steadies at Winay Wayna!). From here you get vertiginous views down into the valley that loops around the mountain, and can look across the whole site from its spiritual heart.

My advice would be:
1) Get there as early as possible. It is no longer possible for hikers to wander through the Sun-Gate at 6am to get first sight. Instead you have to come through the main entrance which opens at 7. Buses run up from Aguas Calientes from before the crack of dawn, so if you are not a hiker seriously consider travelling up the day previously and staying overnight in the town before visiting the site first thing. The train from Cusco arrives around 10am – suddenly the place is overrun with tourists (around 500 000 visit per year!). The earlier you arrive, the quieter the place will be and the more chance you have of exploring in detail. Once you’ve seen everything from up close you can then wander as you will, or just sit up by the Watchman’s Hut for an hour.
2) Go to the toilet before you visit. The only loos are by the entrance gate, down a steep flight of stairs.
3) Take a tour guide to explain the significance of what you are seeing, otherwise it could all just be chunks of rock to you. We were lucky in that our guide from the Inca Trail, Julio was with us, armed with his trusty notebook. He knew the history and significance of the site off by heart, and was able to answer most any question, but the reproductions he had of Bingham’s original expedition, showing the mountain peak thick with jungle really impressed me. Take more camera film than you think you would need.
4) Take water – the only shop is by the monstrous Hotel Machu Picchu and is terribly overpriced. If staying the whole day you would probably still save money by getting the bus down to Aguas Calientes, eating there, then returning.
5) If travelling by train, bear in mind that it takes four hours to / from Cusco, but only two from Ollantaytambo, which is a mere hour from Cusco by road. You can save time by getting a bus or taxi to Ollantaytambo, then a train to Machu Picchu, and vice versa.
6) And finally, don’t skimp on time in Cusco. The ancient capital of the Incas is endlessly fascinating. It has spectacular sights of its own – Qoricancha, Sacsayhuaman, the Plaza de Armas. It is well located for other trips out to the Sacred Valley, or a plane ride down to the rainforest. And it has a wide variety of arts, from indigenous culture to modern restaurants and nightlife. See my journal 'Cusco - The Navel Of The World' for further details.

We were woken at an unfeasibly early hour at our hotel in Cuzco. Onto our coach and out through the shanty-towns, and into the Andes. We snoozed or got to know our hiking companions. Julio, our twinkly-eyed guide provided conversation for anyone who wanted it. Even at this early stage his immense knowledge and passion for the lost world of the Inca was clear.

The hour-long drive was broken once for a photo-opportunity, then we continued on to Ollantaytambo to meet the rest of our group. We had a thirty-minute break to get breakfast and any last minute supplies – in my case a sturdy walking staff (2 soles) and some knitted gloves (5 soles). I refused to purchase an ear-flapped Peruvian hat, a decision I later regretted when the sun went down. We also had a quick glance at the 16 massive stepped terraces that block off one end of town, and a supposed ‘face’ on the cliff. Then we set off again in the coach along a narrow riverside track for Piscacucho, and KM82.

Most tours start at the train station at KM88. The benefit of KM82 is that you can travel there at your own time, and are not reliant on the train timetable. Also, you get the trail pretty much to yourself. Once at Piscacucho our duffel-bags were weighed and distributed amongst the porters. Time for a quick pose by the Inca Trail sign, and then we were processed one at a time at the way-station where they checked our tickets and stamped our passports. We crossed the Rio Urubamba via a narrow bridge and we were off!

The first morning was unbelievably pleasant, a stroll along the flat above the river. Julio and his other guides pointed out cacti and agave plants. My overwhelming memory is of trees loaded with pink peapods. From our vantage point we could see the tourist train puffing along across the river. Our first climb was up a steep path climbing a valley-wall. From the top we could look down upon the Inca ruins of Llactapata, as Julio pointed out its features.

Lunch was a shock. We turned a bend and a marquee had been set up. The staff had reached here first and had cooked us a meal. The meals were uniformly good throughout the trek – soup, salad, chicken, and a never-ending supply of coca tea.

The next two-and-a-half hours to our campsite at Huayllabamba were over what Julio termed ‘Peruvian flat’ – undulating climbs and descents that had me gasping. The campsite itself was in a valley above the trail, with basic toilets. Again, the porters had reached there first and had set up our tents. There was also a barn serving as store selling batteries and beer. At dinner that night the cooks produced a cake from nowhere to celebrate one of the girls’ birthdays – incredible! Throughout the hike they continued to amaze us with the feasts they concocted, seemingly from nowhere.

Day Two was always going to be the killer. Huayllabamba campsite is at 2950m above sea-level. That evening’s campsite at Pacamayu would be at 3600m. But first there was the small matter of Warmiwanusca, the 4200m-tall ‘Dead Woman Pass’, to negotiate first. This is an excruciating uphill slog. The trick is to take it at your own pace.

The pace-setters went off first – Grant (triathlete, frighteningly fit, a proper ‘adult’), Gary (footballer, extreme-sports enthusiast),and my mate Ed (recovering from knee surgery and food poisoning, had been advised by a doctor just two days previously not to attempt the Trail). I looked at my watch. 7.30. I had a 1250m climb ahead (the equivalent of climbing to the top on Ben Nevis from sea-level). I set myself a personal target of four hours.

The climb hurts. Walking staffs proved their worth here. With every twist of the path new and impressive vistas opened up. I soaked a handkerchief in a stream and held it in place over my brow with my hat band. I kept getting my ‘wind’ in fits and starts – one minute I would be dead on my feet, the next I’d be powering up through the next meadow. Periodically a cry of “Porters!” would go up and a peloton of men in shorts and sandals would sprint past, a gas canister, a 20kg sack of rice, and two camp chairs balanced on their backs, mocking our efforts. After dismantling our camp they had to reach Pacamayu first and prepare our tents and dinner.

About 11.00 we breached the tree-line, and could see the pass up above. Up here the sun was scorching, bleaching the earth fawn. At this point all I and Jules, who I was walking with, could do was set ourselves targets – when we reach that rock we’ll rest for a minute, at that turn we’ll have a drink. I was aware of my target time creeping nearer. Twenty minutes, fifteen. In the end I realised I had to take drastic action. With a growl I forced myself into a sprint, pulling myself up with my staff more than my feet. To peoples’ amazement I made it to the top with a scream of “11.26! Beat that!” I then collapsed.

I spent half-an-hour at the top of the pass, getting my breath back, chewing on a cereal bar and cheering those who made it up. Kylie, our guide from Tucan Tours offered around a flask of rum, which was gratefully accepted.

Once over the pass the descent was pretty straightforward. The only problem was the glare of the sun directly overhead that reduced me to a walking puddle of sweat. Pacamayu campsite was situated into a bowl beneath the cliffs, looking dramatically out over a cloud-dotted valley. They had a toilet block with rudimentary cold showers, and a tinkling brook for hikers to cool their weary feet in. I just lay out on the grass in the sun, satisfied I had surpassed my expectations.

After the slog of Dead Woman Pass, Day Three was a treat. We woke to see dawn sparkling gold on the clouds in the valley below us, leaving us feeling that we were truly on top of the world. We started off with another hard climb for an hour or so, broken by a stop at the semi-circular Incan tambo (way-station) of Runkuracay which kept an eye out over the pass we had cleared the day before.

From here onwards I really enjoyed the hike. The route was mostly downhill, I had got to know my fellow hikers enough to have some good chats, and Runkuracay proved to be just the first of a series of impressive ruins. The next one we reached was Sayacmarca, ‘Inaccessible Town’, its stone blending in with the mountains as it overlooked the valley and the smaller settlement of Conchamarca. Julio was in his element as he explained the features of the settlement. Down into the valley, and an early lunch before noon.

That afternoon we followed a stone highway as it curled around the mountains, skirting sheer drops above misty tree-tops, and delving through an Inca tunnel. Humming-birds blurred past. Phuyupatamarca was our next halt, where Julio revealed some important information – this was the only point of the Trail where patchy mobile-phone reception could be obtained. Cue looks of bafflement as the Brits in the party immediately tried to call home to find the final placings in the football league. As the Manchester United and Arsenal fans celebrated and the Liverpool and Tottenham fans cursed, an Australian was heard to comment “If they put half as much effort into other sports as they do football, England would be unbeatable…”

Incan steps lead down from here. In good spirits we sang all the way down to Winay-Wayna. From the top of the ruins here we had our first glimpse of the Machu Picchu mountain. The archaeological site itself was hidden around the other side of the tree-covered peak. Then we climbed down past an altar and walked on until we reached a restaurant perched incongruously above the Urubamba valley. Gratefully we rested, used the toilets, and bought ice-cold drinks. Normally this would be the end of Day Three, but with the trail from the Sun-Gate closed by a landslide we had to detour down a side path which zig-zagged the 700m descent down the valley wall to Chachabamba, beside the river. There was a tributory we could splash in, and a woman sold bottles of Cusquena, with which we toasted our efforts.

That last night was a blow-out feast. The cooks surpassed themselves. Another birthday cake was produced. We even had table decorations – toucans made from carved aubergines with carrot-beaks. All the guides crowded into the marquee and treated us to a traditional song. We replied with a rewritten version of Monty Python’s ‘Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life’, and our heartfelt thanks to Julio and his assistants.

The Peruvian authorities are extremely concerned about protecting the integrity of the Inca Trail, and for good reason. The number of people who use it annually create a very great risk of degrading the trail and creating erosion. As a result since 2004 the authorities have imposed a quota of 500 hikers each day (200 trekkers, and 300 guides and staff). You simply cannot hike the trail on your own; those turning up ‘on spec’ and expecting to be able to do the trek will be disappointed. Tickets are only sold at least thirty days in advance, on proof that you have booked a tour with a licensed operator – it's easiest if the tour company itself organises your ticket. As of May this year tickets were $60 for adults, $30 for students and under-15s; these prices are being cranked up every year.

Your guide will arrange a meeting with you in advance to explain the logistics of the trip. You will be provided with a bag in which you are allowed to pack no more than 5kg of gear – this will be carried by a porter. Anything else has to go in your day-pack. You should be able to hire sleeping-bags and thermorests direct from the tour company, though these are bulky bottom-of-the-range models. If you have lightweight, professional 4-season sleeping-bags you are best to bring it along; otherwise a number of companies in Cuzco can hire them out.

Equipment you will need to bring are good-quality hiking boots. Do not leave this to chance. Good boots will save you from a world of pain. Clothing-wise, light-weight removable layers are best. You will be cold at night, and you will be sweating like a carthorse during the day. Zip-off trousers are useful. I found full leg coverage was essential at 7.30am when setting out, but by 8 I needed to be in shorts. Ones with side-zips are a boon, to save you from having to stop and remove your boots. Layers can be taken off and stowed in your daypack. For your day-pack get a light bag with two shoulder-straps and a waist strap. I made the mistake of having a pack with just one strap that crossed my chest. This meant that with every gasp my chest was having to work against the weight of my backpack. All you’ll need to carry in here are essentials – waterproofs, sun lotion, blister plasters, maybe a torch, your water and any snacks (I’d recommend the little coca sweets you can buy in supermarkets). I’d also recommend at least one, possibly two, stout walking sticks. You can buy these in Ollantaytambo.

The trail is tough, and I found it a struggle at times. However all of our group, which ranged from school-leavers to pensioners, managed it. If you’re not obviously unfit you should be able to make it. Practice beforehand, and acclimatise to the altitude. Keep a positive frame of mind, walk at your own speed, and enjoy the spectacular sights.