How hard can it be? Tales from the Inca Trail, Peru

Most important was inspecting the group. This consisted of a South African (always a worry after
Standard Bank!), an Aussie, 2 Belgians, 2 Dutch, 2 Germans, an Israeli (wearing a bandana!) and 2
Americans. Oh and 10 Peruvian porters and 3 guides. Wenoticed various different styles of equipment. Some people had walking sticks, others small packs, but we still felt we shouldn't be the worst of the group.

Then after a lunch where everyone seemed to be quite normal, we set off for the first day, described by the guide as flat. How you can get to 3000 meters from 2600 and it be flat, never crossed our minds. On the route were 3 pretty intense slopes which we both found quite tough. Whilst my backpack was feeling increasingly heavy, Sarah was basically really awkward, with her sleeping bag hanging sideways from one of the day packs, which was stuffed full. We didn't look to be really struggling though and were on a good pace compared with most of the group.

We camped in a lovely spot, by a mountain river. The tents seemed ok and the evening meal was actually quite good. Everyone in the group seemed nice. This wasn't going to be too bad!

Omens for the next day didn't seem great. After a visit to the toilet (a huge hole in the ground full of
about 2 years of sewage), Sarah threw up her coco tea (supposed to help with the altitude!). She had had no sleep as the tent was on a slope. Hardly ideal preparation for what was said to be the hardest day (3000 meters to Dead Woman’s Pass at 4200 meters). Breakfast was plentiful and filling and we set off at about 7.30am.

After Sarah's breakfast settled a bit, we set a flying pace. I found that by taking larger steps the slope
just seemed to be eaten away. We arrived at the first checkpoint at 3300 meters just behind the group who had set off 10 minutes before us. The next section was about 2 hours though and would take us to 3850 meters so we suspected it would be more difficult. However, get through that and we were nearly there.

And it was. The slope I had been eating away with mystrides, turned into steps. Pretty big steps at that.

Slowly but surely, members of our group passed us. The backpacks were feeling decidedly heavy, as with each step you had to lift yourself and the extra weight. The stop became more regular and the breathing more difficult. Time for a new technique. Amazingly throughout this section we watched our porters speed past us. They were carrying 3 times as much weight, but were absolutely flying. I noticed they walked in a weaving pattern, moving to the edge of steps and generally making the slope far less steep than taking the direct route.

Both myself and Sarah started adopting this policy and we soon started passing a number of our group and catching the rather fit (and small backpacked) Israeli member of the group. By the time we reached the second checkpoint, only the South African, Australian and Israeli were in front of us, even with a stop for an unfortunate call of nature, which those of you who know me well would know was inevitable.

And there it was! Dead Woman’s Pass. We could see it from where we were and it did not look that far. Only 350 meters compared to the 550 we had just done and we would be there. We set off in positive mood, but we had not reckoned on one thing. The altitude. The stops became more regular. I would estimate at one point we were doing about 30 steps at a time before stopping.

Other members of the group with there walking stick and smaller packs came past us. They were all
experienced hikers and knew better how to pace themselves. First the Dutch, then the Belgians. My left knee started to really give a sharp stabbing pain with every step. The weight of the pack had been too much for me and I was just not strong enough to do it.

The Germans past and then the poor American girl with the huge blisters. And then I saw the last American girl. We couldn't be last could we? I said to Sarah, I was going to take the last section in one stint as the knee was more painful after stopping. We didn't make it, but went a good distance. We finally reached the top, second to last of the group. We had done it in 4 1/2 hours (5 1/2 is said to be a good time) but had really suffered trying to maintain the pace of a group of experienced hikers (most reached the top under 15 minutes before us). We both agreed it had been the
most difficult thing we had ever done.

Worst of all, as soon as we reached the top it startedraining, so after a couple of photos it was straightoff. I hobbled dome the other side to the lunch site and feared the worst for the afternoon. And it was indeed bad. But only an hour downhill. One thing we noticed is that when you go down, it never seems to be nice slopes, but steps which jar the knees even further.

By favoring one leg we made it to the site.We had a nice meal and had an early night hoping that
we could get through the next day. We could see from the camp site though, the start for the next day.
Hundreds of steps!

We had learned not to listen to the guides. Everything was flat to them and the next day was supposedly easy. I was feeling cheated. At this point I felt like I had nearly killed myself to see just one Inca ruin so far. The scenery was spectacular, but you could only appreciate it by stopping. The paths were uneven stones and you had to watch your footing all the time.

The left knee didn't feel too bad. The Ibuprofen gel had kicked in and one of the American girls, Cheryl
had loaned me a leg brace. I was feeling philosophical and thought lets get on with it. After all, the guide had said get through the next set of steps and it was all downhill. Sarah was not feeling so good however.

Another sleepless night left her feeling jaded, andagain breakfast did not sit well when we started
hiking. She was carrying her sleeping bag in her hands, as it had a plastic sheet around it due to the
morning’s rain. After a few sets of steps, Sarah was clearly struggling badly when fortunately the guide pointed out having your hands full was the worst possible thing you could do. You would never see a porter with anything in his hands, and they were brilliant on the slopes.

Hands free, the speed increased and we made it to the first set of ruins. This was a food storage centre, used by the Incas for people following the Inca trail. Because of the height, the cold kept the food fresh. A new development was that my right knee was now worse than the left. I had been going up every step right leg first and had done the same thing. We were again faced with a huge staircase to the next path. Some strapping and Ibuprofen would have to do. Sarah was also suffering.

This was to be the worst part of the trek for her, and although she thought she was going to die, she dug deep and reached the summit.

Here we performed a ceremony and made an offering to the mountain. You were allowed one wish (mine was new legs) and then we set off. The next section wasn't too bad. It was pretty flat for a long section and we were the first people to the Inca town of Sayamarca. Sarah had really recovered and the flat ground was doing me good. At Sayamarca we were treated to some fantastic scenery. The ruin was a good example of a small Inca town.

The fountains no longer worked and the Peruvians are still unable to find the water source that fuelled this place. In exploring every nook and cranny, I looked over the side to find everyone had gone without me. A worried Sarah was at the bottom of the steps wondering if I had fallen off the side!

It was a fairly pleasant walk to the campsite for lunch. Everyone was getting on well and a number of
the guys (and girls) had offered to help with the backpack. I had rather stubbornly decided that I was
going to finish it myself no matter what, a decision I would really regret at times. We were also joined here by another Brit and a South African girl. I don't know if it was a team spirit thing, but everyone seemed to take an instant dislike to them.

The first section of the afternoon was actually really enjoyable. We were both feeling good and the terrain had changed from mountainous to rainforest like. It was still uphill but not too bad. We stopped at another set of ruins and I thought to myself that this was a lot more the Inca trail that I was expecting. The ruins were all of different types and the information was fascinating. It was amazing to see how a far off civilisation developed in different ways. For example, they had earthquake proof building the Japanese would be proud of, but when the Spanish arrived in the 1400's, they had not yet invented the wheel!

The next set of this trek was tortuous. 1200 steps took us down from 3600 meters to our base at 2700. I was really starting to think I couldn't do it anymore when we finally made it down. I was in very low spirits, but a visit to the ruins of Huinihuaina, an excellent small Inca town, with working irrigation
system and I perked up a little. And tomorrow would be Macchupicchu, a mere 2 hours away and 300 meters down. And of course a few beers in the bar helped. We tipped our excellent porters (except the Belgians) and went to bed for our final night in Sarah's nemesis, the bell tent.

The next day was a 4am start to get to Macchupicchu early. Sarah actually got some sleep only to be woken up at that time! Breakfast was swift and we were off. The trail again seemed to be upwards the whole time with one evilly steep set of steps before we reached the sun gate where we would finally see Macchupicchu, the lost city of the Incas. Except we wouldn't. We were above the clouds and could not see a thing. We had another hour to go, and as we descended, the
famous city could vaguely be spied teasingly in the distance.

And then after an hour there it was. It was simply a breathtaking sight. Ironically, we were the first of the team down there, and sat for 30 minutes just gazing at the breathtaking panoramic view of the
whole city. We then took an excellent 3 hour tour of the city with our guide. In comparison with what we had seen before, the place was huge and had everything. Temples, fountains, sundials, irrigation, a quarry, posh neighborhoods, poor neighborhoods.

Almost too much to take in. References to snakes, pumas and condors were everywhere and the city itself was even shaped like a condor (using a bit of imagination). The site was chosen by the Incas because of the nearby mountains resemblance to a flying condor. We did however turn down the chance of climbing nearby Huana Picchu mountain for a betterlook.

And then it was time to go. 3 and a half days hiking for a 1/2 day at this amazing place all of a sudden
felt worth it. Amazingly, we were the only members of the group to take the bus down to nearby Aguas
Calientes. The others took the 1 hour hike down. And then it was the train back to Cusco. Amazingly, we all then went out until 4am and drank as much as our bodies could take. As the Spanish would say 'Lo emos Hetcho'. We had done it!