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An Inca Adventure

By : Madeline Jones
Trip Begins August 7, 2010
Trip Ends August 16, 2010

My family's rousing jaunt through the Peruvian Andes on the trail of the Inca
See my photos : An Inca Adventure

Want to go? Machu Picchu Pilgrimage

I went to: Peru, Cusco, Lima, Sacred Valley, Machu Picchu Ruins, Machu Picchu, Inca Trail Day 1: Huayllabamba, Inca Trail Day 2: Pacaymayo, Inca Trail Day 3: Phuyupatamarca, Inca Trail, El MaPi, Costa del Sol, Taypikala Hotel Cusco, El Sauce
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August 7, 2010
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We arrive in South America

Costa del Sol, Lima

With the exception of my brother, it was the first time for any of us in South America and I must admit it was a little anti-climactic. Our plane touched down at 10:40 and we wearily stumbled off the aircraft, some of us more aware than others. Brian had used a few beers to wash down a handful of anti-stress pills before boarding the plane so he was zombie-like as he marched up the fluorescently lit gangway. The rest of us were slightly more chipper but still reeling a bit from the sub-par avian dinner of chicken grizzle in lumpy sauce.

Immigration was a fast moving line and our bags showed up on the belt pretty quickly. In no time we found ourselves breathing in the cool Lima air. It was a damp night, although not raining, and we lugged our bags across the street to the hotel where we were staying, the Costa del Sol. After forking over our passports and being presented with our free drink ticket we took the elevator up to our rooms.

Not being able to pass up a freebie we all, with the exception of passed-out Brian, proceed back down to the bar for our pisco-sour on the rocks. It was cool and refreshing although our heads were abuzz with the possible consequences of our nightcap. Would the alcohol make altitude acclimatization more difficult? Would the ice give us traveler's diarrhea? Did we even like pisco? Luckily by this point we all had caught a case of the Brians and our main goal was to make it back up to our rooms before we fell asleep in our chairs. Oh yeah, and remember to use bottled water for tooth brushing and throw toilet paper in the trash, not the toilet.

August 8, 2010
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To infinity (or 11,000 feet) and beyond

Taypikala Hotel Cusco, Cusco

Our alarms went off at 6 and we grudgingly convened downstairs for breakfast. It was a very European spread with bread, meats, cheeses, fruit, some scrambled eggs and vaguely familiar looking cereals. We all filled up, not knowing when, or what, our next meal would be.

The trek across the street to the airport was not a difficult one but we were all immediately assaulted by the smell in the air. It was distinctly fishy. Someone had aerosolized a whole bottle of fish oil, and that's potent stuff. It didn't help that the sky was grey and the air was thick with moisture. The Lima airport brought a welcome relief although we were thrown into a long line of fellow fliers. Most of the passengers looked to be Peruvian and had huge, boxy, brightly plaided plastic bags that looked to contain all their worldly possessions. The natives seemed to know the inner workings of the line, though, and took advantage of the tourists. One particularly enterprising Peruvian was trying to cut the line right in front of our family unit but my mom was using her hips to block him out. Unbeknown to us, he deposited his small son in front of us and he meekly went to the back of the line. When the line snaked along and his spot doubled-back to align with us, he pointed to the fact that he needed to be with his young child and pushed his huge cart of bags, along with his friend, in front of us.

The flight to Cusco was quite pleasant. I got a window seat and watched as the arid, rugged mountains rolled by below. My brother Kevin, on the other hand, had his eyes glued to the tv which was showing practical jokes being played on unwitting bystanders. The whole time I was a little preoccupied about how my body would react to the altitude. Being 23 and relatively fit, I wasn't too worried but I had heard enough horror stories about altitude sickness that I had a healthy dose of apprehension. I imagined stepping onto the gangway and having my lungs gripped and wrung out by an invisible monster. As it turns out, my first lungful of Cuscan air was not nearly so dramatic and went largely unnoticed. I was almost disappointed. I had traveled all this way and my body wasn't even recognizing that I had left Chicago.

Teddy met us outside after we had collected our bags. He was our fearless leader and would prove to be always ready with a joke and a smile. We were all a bit dazed, some of us suffering from altitude induced headaches while others were just tired. We met up with Daniel, a solo traveler who joined our group for the duration of our trip, and were off to the hotel.

The hotel was very nice and had a welcoming lobby. My parents made a bee line towards a carafe in the middle which could only contain the much awaited coca tea. Having read about the wondrous powers of the liquid, my mom was counting on it to be an elixir for all maladies we may meet on the trip. The two of them sunk into a couch in the lobby and slowly sipped despite the fact that the stuff was nasty and it's current manifestation didn't appear to have any medicinal qualities. There was no rest for the weary, however, as I was eager to see the city we had landed in and quickly ushered them out of the hotel and onto the streets.

Cusco was a quaint town full of labyrinthine streets leading to grand, open squares. The streets were cobbled and flanked on either side by white stuccoed walls. Tourist shops were tucked into the nooks and crannies along with traditionally dressed Peruvians hawking their wares or advertising nearby restaurants. We were all stopped in our tracks when we stumbled out onto La Plaza de Las Armas. It was a huge open square and the middle had been carved out into a grassy green crisscrossed with walkways and dotted with trees and fountains. Two sides of the square were composed of towering red churches, indicative of the Spanish Baroque, while the other two were stone lined arcades.

By now we were all hungry so Teddy showed us to a restaurant just off the square. We were pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food when it came out. We had ordered very traditionally, including Aji de Gallina, Lomo satlado, and Trucha. The food was homey and hearty and, with full bellies, we felt refreshed. With a new found spring in our step we wandered towards a smaller square dominated by a large fountain. While admiring the water, an old woman dressed traditionally approached us and held out her arms. Dangling off each appendage were brightly colored belts and camera straps. Unable to say no, my mom smiled encouragingly and the woman knelt down to demonstrate her weaving. Her entrepreneurial daughter, also cruising the square, came over to get involved in the action. Eventually my mom bought a new belt. The damage was not too steep and thankfully they left us alone.

By now post postprandial drowsiness had set in so we trooped back to the hotel. We set a dinner meeting time and dispersed to our rooms. Kevin, my roommate, set an alarm for two hours later and we were both out cold.

Dinner was at the Inka Grill. We were seated in the loft and looked into the bar to all the libations we were afraid to drink for fear of getting dehydrated. The food was again delicious, although the menu looked suspiciously familiar. All our old favorites were there, although this time with a slightly more upscale explanation and a few fancy ingredients. My dad was quite happy when the bar tv started playing the Yankees-Red Sox game although it was quickly turned over to a soccer match. As one might expect, soccer overshadows all other sports. After dinner we were beat. It had gotten cold, probably mid-40s, and we were all looking forward to our beds. We easily succumbed to these wishes and by the respectable hour of 8:30 we were snoring.

August 9, 2010
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Cusco and Environs

Taypikala Hotel Cusco, Cusco

The highlight of breakfast were thin, shriveled, bright pink sausages (I think) that no one was brave enough to try. They were accompanied by the same spread as the day before, although a few new and interesting fruits were added. Our favorite find was one that was white with big black seeds and tasted like a mix between a banana and a pineapple. Over breakfast we accessed the casualties from the night before. My room had come out unscathed but my father had been attacked by altitude sickness and my sister had succumbed to the mighty traveler's diarrhea. (This is still a point of contention, however, as Carrie has a infamously weak stomach and E. coli for traveler's diarrhea takes at least 24-48 hours to incubate.) Carrie was feeling a little better after a late-night cipro but my dad was still on a strict bland food and water diet. Little did we know the worst was yet to come.

Wounded but not slain, we soldiered on and caught two taxis that brought us to the outskirts of Cusco to Qenco. Quite frankly, this site looked a lot like a pile of rocks. Teddy expanded on the significance of the site to the Inca and led us down and under it to a tucked away altar. It was cool and dark and suitably spooky. From here we walked up a dirt path towards Sacsayhuaman, passing on our way the Last Inca King (willing to pose for a picture for one sole) and a baby alpaca who managed to land a loogie on Teddy.

Sacsayhuaman (or as Teddy reminded us "sexy woman") was a large, two tiered site. The upper tier had a massive open oval surrounded by small stones, thought to have been a reservoir. There were some large stones scattered through the site with niches (perfect for sitting in) that had probably been altars. The impressiveness of this site resided in the lower tier. It boasted Cyclopian architecture; read really really big stones. It looked pretty cool from above but it was awesome to be standing beneath one of these massive stones. These were not roughly hewed boulders, though. They were incredibly graceful and perfectly aligned with their neighbors. Apparently the Inca used sand and gently rocked the stones back and forth, creating friction so the stones would interlock seamlessly. The site was also special for its historic significance. Legend has it that Cusco was laid out to represent a puma and Sacsayhuaman was the head. It had also been the first place the Spanish found in their hike from the coast. Ultimately, it was the hideout for the last Inca, Manco Inca, in the final siege of Cusco. This was the inspiration for the Cusco seal; the three castles represent the three walls of Sacsayhuaman and the vultures represent the birds feasting on the flesh of the slain Inca.

Speaking of food, from Sacsayhuaman we walked downhill to Cusco center and followed Teddy out to a huge, covered market. The market was full of stalls selling a range of products from fruit smoothies to nuts, bread, corn, potatoes and termites. By far our favorite section was the offal aisles, hawking such attractive wares as testicles, pig and cattle heads and chicken feet. While Teddy tried to convince us this would make up our lunch, we smiled and nodded and tried to avoid looking at the multitude of flies and dirty dogs that were sniffing around the place.

From the head to the heart, our next stop had at one point been the center of the Inca empire. We went to Koricancha, the sun temple, which had been converted to a monastery by the Spanish, probably because the walls were so well made they couldn't knock them down. Supposedly covered in gold in the time of the Inca, this ring of temples boasted the same attention to detail as Sacsayhuaman. The stark, grey stones served as a reminder of the atrocities the Spanish had inflicted on the Quechua. The monastery walls cobbled above and around the temple stones didn't begin to compare to the masterful Inca masonry.

Lunch was another deja vu experience but considering the quality of the food I wasn't complaining. By this point in the day Dad was positively white and beginning to flag. He opted for some soup and continued to take in lots of water. The rest of us were doing well and were impressed with what Cusco had to offer. After lunch we sent Carrie and Dad home for a little R and R and set out on our own to explore. We managed to find the 12 sided stone, representing the different facets of the Inca empire. When I say "we" I mean mom and I walked right by the brightly colored Last Inca King who was posing next to the stone and had to be beckoned back by the more vigilant Kevin and Brian.

After another nap and a round of postcards, we went to Limo for dinner. It boasted a two-pronged menu of Cuscan favorites and sushi. None of us trusted our stomachs to weather a round of raw fish so we stuck to the traditional. Dad was feeling a bit better and we were all looking forward to getting out of the city and starting our real adventure.

August 10, 2010
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The Sacred Valley

El Sauce, Sacred Valley

Today we ventured beyond our protective bubble and partook of the sweeter, harder to reach fruits surrounding Cusco. First stop was a small town, Chinchero, where we were taken to observe a weaving demonstration. I have a feeling this was a mandatory stop, and while it was interesting to see where many of the colors of the yarn came from, we were attacked on all sides by Quechua women wanting to sell us expensive, well made woven goods. After carefully extracting ourselves (my mother, the weakest, managed to only buy a pair of socks and a scarf) we hopped back into our trusty van and were off to our first site of the day, Moray.

Not to be confused with the eel, Moray was an Inca civilization on the seque from Cusco to Machu Picchu. Its exact function is still somewhat unknown although archaeologists suspect it was a huge altar to mother earth and may have been an agricultural center. Moray was a colossal circular depression in the ground. It had three levels and each level had seven tiers. All tiers were covered in grass and the walls had flat stones arranged on a diagonal which stuck out and served as stairs. There was another, smaller amphitheater-like structure right next to the main depression. We walked around the outside and partly into the bowl but none of us had the gumption to go all the way down. Climbing back up to the top we were winded and our legs were aching. Some members of the group were getting a little fearful of the hike that was looming ahead of us.

Next stop were the Maras salt mines. I had been expecting a true deep-in-the-Earth salt mine. We were at the top of a deep crevasse and our car slowly snaked down the side of the slope. Below us and on the other side of the gap we could see a bright white spot, spidered with brown lines. The mines were a collection of thousands of small pools of water ringed by light brown dirt. The salty river had been partially diverted to fill up each of these small pools and as the water evaporated it left behind a thick, white salt residue. The mine stretched on for a very long time and the bright colors added flare to the otherwise drab mountainside. Never having been to a salt "mine" before, it was a good stop.

Once on the road again the van went for a few minutes and then pulled off to the side, about 100 feet from the road. We all got out and were told it was our picnic site. We were atop a prominence and below us on the left was a small farm plot and some farmers. Everywhere else we looked there were mountains. It was a pretty stunning backdrop for our picnic lunch. The picnic wasn't too shabby either. Teddy and Julio, our driver, whipped out nine folding cloth chairs and a tent bag. We all pitched in to help put up the tent and then Julio got a little gas stove cranking to heat up our food. It was a windy perch so they positioned the car as a wind blocker and tied the tent to the trunk. In about 15 minutes food was ready and we eagerly piled into the tent.

We had not been expecting a feast but that's what it amounted to. There were colas and Inca Cola, a neon yellow soda that tasted like bubble gum. The meal was a stuffed chicken breast with mashed potatoes and two side salads of vegetables. They also provided rolls and kaka cake for dessert. We were overly full but were pleasantly surprised about the spread.

Once lunch was finished and the tent and chairs had been stuffed back into their respective bags, we hit the road and made tracks down into the sacred valley. While the land was still relatively arid, there were now some green farms and trees sprouting up on the banks of the river. Upon crossing the river, we headed up to Pisac. This was the Easternmost town in the valley and boasted a ruin set high above the river. By the time we got to the site it was mid afternoon and the dipping sun lit the ruins in a golden light. Long shadows ran across the undulating mountainside and got caught in the layers of terraced land. The site was all but deserted and we spent a few hours wandering along the mountainside. There were three clusters of buildings, representing agricultural, religious and dwelling centers. The narrow dirt path connecting the three clung to the side of the mountain and offered spectacular views of the valley below. I can think of few things more enjoyable than prowling the deserted ruins in the dusky winter light.

Modern Pisac housed a reasonably priced market which we got to just as it was closing. I set out quickly, determined to find a rug to hang on my apartment wall, and found a stall with its wares still out. I found a rug I liked which had many earthy colors arranged in a geometric pattern. Speaking in broken Spanish, I asked the seller how much for the rug and he responded 300 sole. This was out of my price range so I smiled and turned away. He was persistent, however, and asked how much I would pay for it. Embarrassedly I admitted I wasn't going to shell out any more than about 180 sole and boom, it was sold on the spot. My father, the money carrier, forked over the cash but pointed out if he had settled so quickly he was probably willing to go a lot lower. I thought it was worth the price and so was happy to pad this man's income, if only by a little.

The drive back across the sacred valley was a long one and it was dark. Many of the vehicles on the road, including the bikes and four-wheeled peddled carts didn't have lights and the street was for the most part unlit so we took our time. By the time we got to our hotel, El Sauce in Ollantaytambo it was about 6:30 and we were tired from a long day of sight seeing. We deposited our bags in our rooms and alighted to the Blue Puppy for dinner. There were a few tourist groups there, most likely enjoying a final night of civilization before the hike, so we were in good company. The cuisine was eclectic with a menu offering salads, wraps, soups, pizzas and burritos. After the huge lunch, I stuck with a soup and even then wasn't too hungry. We were all tired and excited to see what our next day would bring so dinner was kept short and we didn't wander after the meal. I fell asleep with the solemn ruins of Pisac still trailing through my head.

August 11, 2010
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And we're off

Inca Trail Day 1: Huayllabamba, Inca Trail

I think we all woke up excited. My parents also woke up to a ruin right out their window. Tucked up onto the hillside directly in front of their bed was the Ollantaytambo ruin, terraces resplendent in the morning light. That was to be our first stop but before visiting we needed to cherish our last shower, last toilet, and, if you were me, pick out the clothes that you would be wearing for the greater part of the next four days. We were allotted one 8 kg bag each, including our sleeping bags. The majority of my clothes were for warmth because although I hailed from Maine I got cold very easily and hated being chilly. Also, I only owned one wicking hiking shirt and firmly believing in the truism "cotton kills," I resigned myself to a smelly fate.

Unfortunately we arrived at the ruins mere moments after a rather large, loud, and heavy set group of Italians. As they ambled up the staircase between the terraces, we ambled up behind them. As their guide waxed eloquent about the huge, pink granite stones destined to be a never completed temple, Teddy waxed... well, you get the point. The unfinished nature of the site allowed us to get a glimpse into Inca building techniques. Without the invention of the wheel, they managed to transport multi-ton granite blocks from a quarry across an adjacent valley. Some of the dirt ramps they used were still visible, as were the nobs protruding out of the stones which were presumably used for maneuvering.

After the ruins we loaded up the truck and headed towards the trail. I was surprised by the quality of the road. Considering that hundreds of people made the same drive every day, I would have thought Peru would invest a little in the infrastructure. Instead we rumbled along a dirt road which snaked through small adobe huts and corn plots. Suddenly we were at the trail head, an unremarkable dirt parking lot with many sun-weathered porters milling around.

Right before our eyes the porters dutifully portioned off all of our luggage, tents and food; fourteen of them for the seven of us. Most of them wrapped their large bundles in tarps and manipulated pieces of cloth to work as backpack straps. The porters were all farmers from the same town and were used to carry big bags of potatoes on their shoulders. This was their preferred method of transporting weight, be it crops or tourists belongings. Once they were loaded up they zipped off, one by one, to get to our lunch site and set things up. We, on the other hand, were left behind with bags of nuts and dried fruit to fortify ourselves for the walk ahead.

After forking over our passports and being checked off we were finally ready to start. We crossed a bridge and began our journey along the Inca trail. The scenery was dry and the mountains around us were ragged and sharp. El Veronica, I believe, was a massive glacier-capped giant lurking in the distance although luckily it was in the opposite direction from where we were going. The brush on the side was distinctly desert like, with lots of agave plants and the bizarre, Seussian flowers that they sprouted every handful of years. We had many companions on the path. Porters would occasionally whiz by, accompanied by the now familiar chant "porter on your left." There were also some donkeys stubbornly plodding along, loaded high with food and sodas to stock the few pit stops along the path. On the opposite side of the river bank we could see some worn away terraces and stone huts. While many of these were Inca sites, they were too dinky to merit comment from Teddy.

A few hours in, after our first steep, but short, climb, we stumbled upon our first ruin. It was a magical moment when Patallaqta came into view beyond the lip of the hilltop. Below us at the base of the mountain was a sprawling Inca site complete with concentric rows of terraces. I was struck by how unassuming it was, tranquilly seated at the riverbed in the middle of the wilds. In America there would be a huge parking lot right next to it and tourists with video cameras would teem all around the site but here it was deserted except for a few archeologists working on restoration. It was a breathtaking sight, made more so by the fact that we had hiked here and would hike past it and leave it in peace.

Lunch marked the start of a routine we would go through every day. There was a big orange and grey tent set up for our group when we hit the campsite with six basins of water and a bottle of hand soap sitting outside the entrance. After cleaning up a little we sat in the tent and were given our first course, camp juice and a soup. Next would come the main course, ranging from spaghetti to chicken breast. It was a nice, relaxing time and a warm soup was surprisingly welcome after a dusty hike. We hadn't yet reached our night camp, however, so after lunch and a reapplication of sunscreen we continued on the trail.

As we started to gently climb the flora changed. Trees along the path become more dense and more green. Before we knew it we had reached a small camp where a few people lived year round. They had built a few houses and boasted tv and electricity. They were eager to sell us a coca cola or, to the likes of my father, a cold Cusqueno beer, but we gracefully declined. A few hundred feet up the mountain we found our camping spot for the night. It was a two-terraced site directly below a fenced-in grazing plot for a pair of friendly donkeys. There were four dome tents set up and our orange dining tent. Near the tents was a pile of bags that held our personal items. Upon our arrival the porters met us with more juice and basins of warm water for washing. Kevin and I claimed a tent and climbed in. I was a little surprised by the close quarters and Kevin declared we would be sleeping head-to-toe. After pointing out that would mean him sleeping with his nose in my boots and his head downhill, he conceded that we could sleep side by side, given that I didn't breathe too close to him.

By now it was after four and as the sun was getting low it was beginning to get chilly. I clambered into the tent after attempting to scrub the dirt caked on my ankles and put on a few layers of warmer clothes. Next, it was time to investigate the bathrooms. Perhaps the less said about them the better. To be fair, I'd say these were the worst bathrooms we encountered on the trail, although bathrooms were a constant topic of conversation, especially among us women, so there may be a few in my group who would care to disagree with this statement. Let's just say there was a hole and some rather dirty looking cement surrounding it.

Around five we had our tea. This was quite a civilized outfit we were with and I felt positively Victorian sipping my, well, powdered hot chocolate and munching on freshly popped pop corn as the sun set behind the mountains. We were all cozy and content in our dining tent and pleasantly tired from the day's activity. Without having to move a muscle dinner was brought into the tent and Teddy acted as a liaison between us and the porters. Teddy regaled us with tales of past groups and reassured us that we'd all make over Dead Woman's Pass tomorrow. A kerosene lamp flickered in the middle of the table as we sipped our soup and dined on river trout. After dinner the porters brought a kettle of hot water and the teas were brought back out. With all of us dreading a midnight bathroom break, we declined the offer. By 8 dinner was over and we happily trooped off to bed. I climbed down into my sleeping bag, wished Kevin goodnight, and closed my eyes.

August 12, 2010
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Beyond the nipple

Inca Trail Day 2: Pacaymayo, Inca Trail

Unfortunately, the day did not end when I closed my eyes. It was cold and I wasn't used to sleeping on the ground and it took me a very long time to fall asleep. I'm not sure if I even did because before I knew it I heard chewing right next to my head. Had the donkeys gotten out of their fence or were they just stretching their necks to be closer to me? Later on the dogs starting barking and I was reminded of 101 Dalamations and the Twilight Bark. This, added to the occasional chomping, was a sound track not conducive to sleep. The most colorful sound, however, came a little later and was so outrageous as to be ridiculous. It was the donkey again, but this time it was hee-hawing. The hee-haw is very, very loud and repeated about five times in a row, followed by a loud exhalation through slack lips, brrrrrrr. I'm not sure how many times this actually happened or how many times I ran it through my head but it seemed to keep up all night.

Then, at 3:30 (although different sources cite different times), the cock started up. Obviously, it was time to get up and he declared it many, many times. I had never been happier to have been "woken up" at 6 with a gentle "Buenas dias. Tea? Coffee?" After getting dressed in the tight confines of my mummy sleeping bag, I bounded out of bed, feeling surprisingly refreshed after my night of pseudo-sleep. We all had similar stories to share although I think Brian's is the best. He got up in the middle of the night to pee in a far corner. While he was out, he heard steps approaching at a run. Figuring the donkeys had broken loose and were coming after him, he spun around, sprinted back, and dove head first into his tent. In the light of the morning the donkeys were innocently pulling at the grass on their side of the fence but who knows what shenanigans they were up to under the cover of darkness.

Breakfast was a delicious meal of porridge, remarkable only because mom and I were the only ones who enjoyed it. Luckily for the others it was followed up by some pancakes, although after two bowls of the stuff I had trouble finding room. I managed to pack it all in, figuring we had a long day ahead of us.

Day two was infamous. I am not quite sure how but we all knew this, as though it had been whispered to us just before falling asleep when all the 'what ifs' came zinging through our heads. Our mission was to ascend through the Dead Woman's Pass, a blip of a nipple 5,000 feet above us. I was eager to start and Teddy was adamant that if we went slow and steady we would all reach the top. Some of us took that very seriously.

We started our ascent, slowly zig-zagging across the narrow trail, one boot in front of the other. I was out in front, a place I had assumed the previous day, while Kevin was bringing up the rear to make sure Dad had company. I chose to skip breaks, wanting to keep moving while my legs were fresh, and quickly broke away from the crew. I was by no means alone, however, as there were many fellow hikers. We had almost all camped at the same site and had started at similar times so were all sharing in the same misery. The day was starting to heat up as the foliage got thicker and provided welcome shade.

At this point Teddy was out in front with me close on his heels and Daniel not far behind. We moved up steadily, passing others at a constant pace. The goal was just to keep moving, one step at a time. Chomping determinedly at each stone step we slowly ratcheted ourselves up the mountain. When I felt truly exhausted I was happy to look up and see Teddy had sat down on a step for a little rest. I quickly plopped down beside him and Daniel joined us shortly. I took a few swigs of gatorade-tainted water and had a few nuts. My arms were splayed to allow for some drying and my back was hunched to relieve pressure. People who we had passed in the last hour dribbled by us, each shooting us looks suggesting they wish they could be resting as well.

In about ten minutes I could feel my legs revive and I started to get a little chilly sitting in the shade with my sweat drying. I bid adieu to my companions, who were going to sit it out and wait for my family, and began my trudge upward. I felt surprisingly good and in about 20 minutes I had broken free of the the woods. The trees had all but disappeared along with their thick green vegetation and had been replaced by bare branched bushes. I was feeling good and could see the top. It didn't look too far up. Before I knew it I had hit our next stopping point, the last place selling Inka Cola before Machu Piccu. I continued hiking off the path, up a little hill and perched to wait for the rest to catch up.

After a rather extended break we were all caught up, hydrated, and ready to go. Teddy, Daniel and I set the pace again, quite literally leaving the others in the dust to find their own pace. The first hundred meters felt great and then I could feel my legs start to slow down a little. The pass was beginning to look like an oasis, a promised land that never got much closer. We leapfrogged up, passing folks who we'd passed before and then who had passed us during our break. On the side of the trail there was a lone white llama, chomping on bushes but all the while cheering us along. An hour in Teddy thought it was time for a break so he ushered us just off the trail where we could sit down and lie back on our backpacks. He pulled out his ipod and some speakers and put on some Bob Dylan. It was very pleasant, sitting in the heart of the mountain with a rugged valley barely visible far far below.

I knew the longer I rested the less I would want to resume my march so it wasn't much longer before Daniel and I continued. The last hour was the worst. My legs were tired and I couldn't seem to fully catch my breath. But the pass was so close it was taunting me on. The final 50 feet I stopped every six or so steps. Daniel was feeling a bit better so he took the lead. With one last exertion of energy I dragged myself over the last ten steps and smiled, relieved, to see the trail sign marking the top of the pass.

From here I put on a rain coat and hat and sat down to watch the view and look out for everyone else. I identified them, mid-way up the final ascent, and watched as the crept along ant-like. Eventually Brian's head bobbed up over the final crest, followed a while later by Carrie, Mom, Kevin and Dad. Brian greeted them with lei's he had brought and we all sat to survey our accomplishment. It felt really good.

The way down was much easier. The slope was steep but the camp was in view so I skipped down, two steps at a time, and managed to be at the camp in about 45 minutes. My first stop was the bathroom, another 25 feet below the camp. As I tried to squat over the toilet, I could feel my legs shaking and could just see them giving out. That would have been bad. Luckily it didn't happen. However the short climb back up the the camp was almost more than I could handle. Once there, I claimed a tent, did a little cleaning, put on warmer clothes, and settled down with a book and a postcard to wait the hour for my Dad to arrive and lunch to be set out.

We all made it, eventually. My dad looked a little pale but otherwise spirits were good. After lunch we lazed around although no one wanted to nap for fear of not being able to fall asleep at night. The five Joneses congregated in the dining tent around 5 for some bridge and before long it had gotten dark and chilly outside. The tent was quite warm, however, thanks to our five bodies and the heat from the kerosene lamp. Eventually Brian, and then Daniel joined us and we were all gearing up for dinner. Teddy also came in after joking with the porters for awhile and we chatted as the smells of dinner wafted over from the other side of the dining tent.

As we were talking, my attention was brought to the end of the tent closest to the door where Daniel was sitting. His body had slumped forward, his head was lolling and incoherent murmuring bubbling from his mouth. Teddy caught him before he fell from his chair and he and Brian kept him upright. Immediately a foul smell filled the tent and we all looked around, confused and scared. Teddy started rubbing his chest and slowly Daniel came around. His eyes looked absent, his face had turned bright white, and his forehead was covered in beads of sweat. Teddy asked if he was alright and told him what had just happened. Daniel was dazed but responded that he was ok but might go lie down in his tent for awhile. We all assured him that it was better if he just stayed with us for a little while. I tried to give him some water, which he took a sip of but didn't seem interested in. We continued talking although all felt a little apprehensive and none of us knew what had just happened.

Two minutes later Daniel flopped over again and by now we were all getting really scared. Teddy and Brian steadied him and Daniel came back to us. Teddy unzipped the tent to let in some air but this didn't seem to help. Daniel passed out again and this time Teddy called over the porters. He and Brian helped support Daniel as a group of porters gathered around. Teddy began barking directions in Quechua as we sat and watched in confusion. Underneath where Daniel had been sitting were signs of diarrhea; how seriously was he sick if he had lost control of bowel movements? Teddy had a bottle of smelling salts and was rubbing them on Daniel's face and talking to him. Daniel seemed to be back awake but by now the porters were bringing him towards his tent so he disappeared into the darkness. The rest of us vacated the tent so it could be cleaned and huddled around in the dark, lost for words. Would he be airlifted out? Would he be ok? Was this altitude sickness?

The tent was quickly put back together and the porters indicated that dinner was ready. With Teddy and Daniel still gone none of us were very hungry but we dutifully sat down to the meal. Teddy joined us shortly thereafter and explained that Daniel was severely dehydrated. He had not been drinking fluids, as Teddy had been constantly reminding us to do, and had gone up the mountain faster than his body was comfortable with. Upon pressing, Teddy admitted he had never seen this in all the years of guiding. Moreover, the only way out was hiking, so Daniel would have to recover by the morning.

It was a scary experience and definitely put a damper on the evening. Teddy encouraged us all to drink tea as that would help with dehydration so we all consumed some before bed. To my mother's great relief, a portable bathroom tent (transported by one especially lucky porter) had been set up right near our campsite so we wouldn't have far to go and would have the use of a clean facility for any nighttime bathroom needs.

Despite being a bit spooked, the sleeping conditions were ideal. It was quiet and although we were very high up the layer of clouds above us was keeping things warm. After a full day, I slept like a baby.

August 13, 2010
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The City in the Clouds

Inca Trail Day 3: Phuyupatamarca, Inca Trail

Daniel was a bit late to breakfast but he was up and walking and, despite being a little quieter than usual, seemed quite normal. We started our day hiking up towards the second pass. On the way up we passed a small round ruin, Runkuraquay. It had probably been a rest house for messengers along the trail and it was spectacularly placed between the two mountain passes. From here we continued our walk up although today the end was in sight and the steps weren't nearly as steep. The day was cloudy and by the time I got to the top of the second pass there were clouds trailing me. I climbed up to the top of one of the small peaks that made the pass and patiently watched as the other seven slogged their way up.

I contentedly wound my way down the other side knowing that it was all downhill from now on. To my happiness I could see that where the path flattened out there was a small jut of earth housing another ruin. The walls of this ruin snaked along the thin spurt of bedrock and protruded out into the valley below. This was the city of Sayacmarka. This gem had been hidden from prying eyes deep in the heart of the Andes until Hiram Bingham had stumbled upon it in the early 20th century. I couldn't imagine how magical it would have been to rediscover such a place although a small part of that wonder was replicated as I rounded a bend and was caught unaware of its presence.

Teddy led us up to it and we wandered through the fallen walls. We inched right up to the edge of the prominence and looked out at the lush valley before us. A huge bank of clouds had accumulated in the valley and we could tell they were rising up towards us. As we peered over the edge the clouds swooshed over us and engulfed us in an eerie pale light. I got chills all over.

We stopped for lunch at a site about 30 minutes past Sayacmarka. From there Teddy and I took the lead. Teddy had a premonition that it was going to rain and he didn't want to get caught in it. Sure enough, it soon began to sprinkle and this gave way to a light rain. The walk was spectacular, however, and made up for any discomfort the rain may have brought. By now we were in a cloud forest and were skirting the sides of mountains as we snaked our way West. We descended through a natural rock tunnel and continued along the worn stones on the other side. It wasn't long before we reached our camp, Phuyupatamarka, or City in the Clouds. It had stopped drizzling although the clouds hadn't broken up. I was eager to keep moving and noticed there was a small stone wall on a neighboring peak. Teddy gave me full reign to explore so I started my climb.

From the top of the first mountain I could see down into the valley and to the backside of Machu Picchu mountain. The clouds surrounding the peaks below were dark and foreboding. I could hear thunder from down in the valley and was hoping it wasn't headed our way. From the peak I dipped down and followed a thin dirt path that looked like a deer trail towards the other peak. It was uneven and the grass was long but I was excited to see what was at the top. About 2/3 of the way up, I felt a few drops and realized it was going to rain again. Grudgingly I turned around and hightailed it back towards camp. When I got there everyone else had arrived. It was beginning to sprinkle in earnest now, so we crawled into our tents to sit out the rain.

After the rainstorm we explored the site a little more. Below us on the other side was another ruin, tucked along the mountainside. We were going to pass it tomorrow but for the time being we could look down on it in wonder.

Soon it was time for tea and this time to accompany our popcorn they brought us Inca popcorn, large corn kernels that had been warmed in a pan with oil but hadn't popped. These were dressed with a liberal amount of salt and were absolutely delicious. The sky was brightening and the setting was incredible. It was as though we were camping on the top of the world. We were all a bit giddy, what with the setting and the prospect of a shower the next day. Plus we had almost made it and were eagerly anticipating our reward, Machu Picchu.

When we emerged from the tent after dinner we were struck by the stars above us. They twinkled brilliantly in the clear sky and displayed a pattern none of us had ever seen before. It was the perfect setting for contemplating mortality and eternity and all the other grand thoughts that seem to creep into your head with the seductive influence of the wide night sky.

August 14, 2010
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The Lost Inca City

El MaPi, Machu Picchu

It was cold when I woke up! There was frost on the ground and I had trouble convincing myself to get out of my sleeping bag. In the end the lure of Machu Picchu was too strong and I emerged from my cocoon. Our first duty today was to tip the porters. This had been a constant source of worry for my parents who had ferreted away crisp $20 bills in all of our money belts to be sure that if one of us went down, the porters would still get their tips. After the awkward ceremony was completed we packed up for the last time and took the staircase down to the Phuyupatamarka ruin below. The site had nicely preserved walls and poked its nose right out into the valley below. There were a set of fountains on the side which brought water all the way down the mountainside to Machu Picchu, 4000 feet below.

The Trail weaved through the ruin and continued in a broken staircase down the mountain. I set out on my own and jauntily bounced down. A few porters sped by me, attempting to make it down to the train before it left at 9. Otherwise they would have to hike the train route to get back to the village. The sun was starting to come out and some of the morning mist was burning off. There were orchids in bloom along the path and bursts of butterflies exploded in front of me as I walked along. Down, down, down I went, having to constrain myself from taking a picture at every corner.

Eventually I reached an offshoot for the ruin Intipata. I knew the group wasn't headed there but I figured I'd bought myself enough time to take a peek. I was worried the group would pass me as I was off on my tangent so I broke into a trot. Intipata was a very steep slope covered in terraces. There were a few tall storehouses at the base of the ruin. I was the only one there although couldn't quite enjoy the feeling due to the nagging worry that I would lose the rest of the group. I headed back towards the trail, half running and half walking in an attempt to intersect the group. Just my luck, I ended up waiting another 20 minutes for them to catch up.

We continued our descent to the ruins of Winaywayna. This was the last city before Machu Picchu and the most spectacular yet. Winaywayna was tucked into the fold of a mountain. One half was terraces while the buildings were farther down the slope. This site was empty and we got to prowl to our heart's content. Teddy pointed out the aqueduct that we had started our day with and we watched it as it tumbled along Winaywayna and continued down. I sat on a grassy lip and looked out, trying to absorb as much of the site as I could knowing that my trip was almost finished. We had the whole place to ourselves, something not even the Inca had enjoyed, and I wanted to savor every last moment.

The path led on past Winaywayna. It clung to the side of the mountain and at times my fear of heights would kick in and I would have to hug the rock as my knees went to jelly. Finally we hit a stone structure and we could feel that we were getting close. This was a set of stairs that were so steep we had to use hands and feet to climb up, ladder style. At the top was a small stone entrance. The sun gate, we asked Teddy? Soon. We continued on and I strode out ahead, sensing that the end was near. Finally I saw a stone doorway above me and knew that must be Intipunku, the sun gate. I quickened my step and mounted the stairs. Right as I was reaching the top, someone emerged from the doorway. I was taken aback. Who was this anonymous someone ruining my grand entrance? What right did they have to be up here? I was getting used to enjoying the ruins in solitude, not in a throng of sweaty tourists. To my dismay, when I did reach the top the place was crawling with people, some of whom had hiked the trail but the majority of which were just day hikers from Aguas Calientes. Swallowing my indignity, I tried to enjoy the breathtaking view in front of me. Sprawled out along three humps in the distance were the spidery walls of Machu Picchu. From this distance the iconic ruin with Wayna Picchu in the back was recognizable but it was in harmony with the peaks around it. The entire scene was dramatic, with mountains poking up out of nowhere and rising with sheer slopes towards the sky. I could tell why Bingham had dubbed this a sacred city. Looking at it, it was difficult to not feel that this was a very special place.

We ate our bag lunches of cheese and ham sandwiches on the steps of the sun gate, our eyes doing more feasting than our bodies. Soon our time came and it was time to join the plebeians, to descend back down to earth and say goodbye to the Trail. The final bit was easy walking and we were quickly on the slopes of Machu Picchu. We sat down, dangling our feet off the sides of a terrace and just rested. Teddy began to tell us about the site but I was more engulfed in the view than the audio. Having friends in high places, Teddy had arranged for us to use our entrance tickets the next day so we took our time just prowling around the outskirts of the city. We took plenty of photos although none of them really captured the site. It's not just the architecture but the entire setting that casts the spell. And a hardy spell it was, standing up to the singing of a nearby French tourist group and the incessant chatter of four Argentinians sitting nearby.

We took the bus down a long, narrow set of switchbacks and quickly found ourselves in the unremarkable town of Aguas Calientes. Its sole purpose for existence was to put up and feed the thousands of tourists that rushed to Machu Picchu every single day. That being said it was tacky and depressing. Luckily our hotel, El MaPi was very nice and happily provided the one thing we had all been eagerly awaiting: a shower. I jumped in first and gave myself two good scrubbings. You can imagine my dismay that after thoroughly rubbing my legs to dry off, my towel came away brown! Oh well, it's good to get dirty sometimes.

After finishing my final postcard and waiting for my brother to shower, we headed to the bar to claim our complementary pisco sours. They tasted good and we felt entitled to a little indulging. Teddy met us for dinner across the road from the hotel and we had a good time re-hatching our adventure. We would sleep well that night, our tummies full and our bodies cozy under soft comforters.

August 15, 2010
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A day in the life of Hiram Bingham

Taypikala Hotel Cusco, Cusco

We were up at six today to try to beat the crowds to Machu Picchu. This is a futile task as thousands of people flock to Aguas Calientes early every morning to see the site but we were hoping to beat at least a few. When we went outside the morning fog was hanging low, a fact which made us feel good about our decision to forgo the sunrise bus up to the site. The bus wound its way up the mountain and we were all eager to get into the site. Once our passports had been checked and our tickets verified, we proceeded past the threshold to the grounds of one of the new seven wonders of the world.

The fog dulled all sounds and lent an eerie light to the city. It gave us a patch-worked view of the ruins which was constantly moving and unveiling different bits. We started at the terraces, then wandered north above the sun temple to the three windows temple. Teddy regaled us with Bingham's theories on the function of various buildings and tried to paint a picture of the importance of Machu Picchu in the Inca empire. We were all amazed to learn that many geographers believe the main area of Machu Picchu had at one time been a mountain that had been leveled to make way for the city. This theory was corroborated by the 10 meters of gravel below the city and the huge, bedrock foundations for many of the buildings.

The sun broke through the clouds just as we reached the sun dial. Teddy made sure to point out a nick in the stone that had happened during the taping of a Cusqueno beer commercial, and although he told us this antic had ruined beer for him forever, the last night's dinner suggested this might be a bit of an exaggeration. By now the site was filling up and there was a group of people waiting for the 10 AM slot to climb Wayna Picchu. I would have liked to climb up with them but had been warned that my fear of heights would not serve me well on the way up, or the way down for that matter.

The sheer size and complexity of the site was hard to grasp. There seemed to be endless rooms on top of each other, most of whose function would forever remain unknown. Carved into the floor of one room were two small basins, about a foot in diameter, with a very shallow lip. Archeologists were still arguing as to weather the basins were mortars or water-mirrors to reflect the night sky. It gave us an idea as to how little we know about Inca culture and daily life.

The line to enter the temple of the condor was ridiculous. The huge throngs of people bobbing like ducklings behind their guides were beginning to get on my nerves. The quiet of the morning fog had evaporated into the constant clicking of pictures and chatter of tourist groups. I began to lose focus as we shuffled single file behind the condor wings, across a few alleys, and up to the sun temple. The sun temple had just been cleaned and was blazing white. It had a unique D shape and would have been really neat to see during a solstice when the sun hit the strategically placed windows in the wall.

By now our time was running low and we would have to say goodbye to the ruin. It was hard to grasp the site in a short, three hour tour. The trifecta of so much to absorb, so little known, and so many people left Machu Picchu just as mysterious as it had been when seen from high up in the sun gate. Perhaps now it felt more so; from that vantage point the city had just looked like a natural homage to the surrounding landscape but from down below it was hard to put that in the context of a place where people lived their daily lives. However I was satisfied to leave the sight with a sense of humbled awe and the knowledge that I would never quite understand how it came into being or what it meant to the Inca.

Before we loaded the bus to leave we said our goodbyes to Daniel. He was staying on at Machu Picchu for an extra night while we were headed back to Cusco. We wished him luck and safe travels as our bus pulled out of the site. Once back down we grabbed a quick lunch of pizza and headed to the train. It was a nice train, with comfortable seats and small windows lining the roof of the car. They brought around a small snack as the train pulled out of the station and it wasn't long before I had nodded off. My window faced towards the side of the mountain and so without a view there was not much to keep me awake.

My nap turned out to be short lived as I was jolted back awake when some very loud and lively music started blaring over the speakers. The man and woman who had served us our snack had now morphed into models and were walking up and down the aisle displaying locally made alpaca clothing. They both looked embarrassed and awkwardly twirled as the passengers clapped and cheered. In the end it was a pretty funny sight to see although I don't think they managed to actually sell any of the clothing.

It was a short train ride and in an hour and a half we had covered almost as much ground as we had hiked in four days. However the experiences were in no way comparable and it made me cherish my hiking experience even more. Julio our driver met us at the train station in Ollantaytambo and we joined the line of cars waiting to exit the town. I am not sure what the hold up was but it probably had something to do with the fact that huge touring buses should not be trying to pass each other on narrow streets. Suffice it to say we spent almost an hour sitting in stopped traffic as everyone tried to work their way out of the town. Once we broke clear of the city limits it was smoother sailing and we had an uneventful trip back to Cusco and our now second home, the Taypikala hotel.

It was dark when we arrived at Cusco and we made reservations back at Limo, our first choice having been full. Kevin and I left a little early to inspect the souvenir shops but we came up empty handed. At dinner we savored our last taste of Peruvian cuisine, replete with potatoes and quinoa. Kevin went out on a limb and ordered an alpaca steak. He enjoyed it, saying it was lean and tender. No one else stepped up the plate and we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would leave Peru without having any guinea pig. I don't think anyone was too disappointed.

August 16, 2010
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Homeward Bound

Lima, Peru

We woke up a little later on our last day and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. Everyone repacked their bags and chose the outfit they would be wearing for the next 36 hours. Teddy met us at the hotel at 9:15 and rode with us to the airport. He had everything arranged and we moved swiftly through check in. We said our goodbyes, trading emails and hugs. We had all really enjoyed Teddy and his wit and banter had definitely kept us upbeat the whole week. We weren't quite sure what we were going to do without him during our last 12 hours in Peru but he had Daniel to collect so couldn't come show us around Lima.

Our flight to Lima was on schedule and we arrived in the capital around 1. Apparently it is dangerous to fly out of Cusco in the afternoon and so in order to be sure we wouldn't miss our international flight we were left in Lima with 9 hours to kill. It was a Monday so most of the archeological sites were closed but we had found one that was still open, Huaca Pucllana. A driver met us at the airport entrance and we lugged our bags to his van. We quickly realized he didn't speak English and since I had taken Spanish most recently (6 years ago), I was elected translator. We had a fun time trying to understand each other and he was very excited to talk to us. He seemed to have a great respect for the US, as one of his children lived there, and enjoyed getting to know his passengers.

On the way to the site we picked up a guide, Snow. She spoke English although her hurried speech and succinct descriptions left us wanting Teddy back. The weather in Lima was distinctly unappealing. It was cold and damp and the sky was grey. The winter on the coast had a very different manifestation than up in the mountains, where it was sunny and could get to the 80s during the day in the sun. When we arrived at Huaca Pucllana we also felt the difference. It was, quite literally, a pile of dirt. Snow informed us that the site had previously been used for motocross and as a pig farm and we weren't surprised. The city was a huge, 6 leveled pyramid made up of adobe bricks. The bricks looked like thousands of books stacked on top of each other. Each successive Huaca generation would fill in the old level and build a new level above it, resulting in the pile of adobe bricks before us. The grey sky didn't help brighten up the rather drab color scheme and the only saving grace was that the fishy smell that had greeted us on our first day was gone.

After the site we convinced our guide to drive us through the main square before depositing us back at the airport. There were lots of cars on the road and the buildings looked pretty run down. The city reminded me of Palermo, Italy and like Palermo Lima had a few nice spots. The main square with the president's house and cathedral were pretty although they didn't stick much with me because we just made a loop and then left. I would have liked a little more time to get out and explore the downtown. I don't think my three hour tour was sufficient for me to form a fair judgment of Lima but, from my experience, I wouldn't want to go back.

We were returned to the airport around 4:30 and had six hours before our flight left. It went by surprisingly fast as we took our time choosing dinner and perusing all the shops. The highlight of the airport was either the many gelato stores or the Britt shop that gave out unlimited free samples of chocolate covered fruits and nuts. So it was our vacation fizzled to an end as we sat at our gate and waited for boarding to commence. It had been a great adventure and an experience I will never forget.

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