Machu Picchu - Day 5

We were up by 4:30 am to try and catch one of the first buses from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu. At that time, we did wonder if this was indeed a holiday and if so, why it felt more like torture. The children weren’t impressed with our arguments about it being worthwhile either.

We ate the best breakfast of our trip in the next-door partner hotel – heaps of fresh fruit from mangoes to strawberries to papaya, fresh bread, cheese, meat, freshly-squeezed juice, and tea. Wouldn’t you know it, we had about 10 minutes to eat it all (if you can call that eating) before we had to leave for the bus station. We had read that about 5000 people visit Machu Picchu every day, and that if you want to see it without wall-to-wall tourists, you had to leave with the first bus at 5 or 5:30 am. Unfortunately, about 300 other people had also heard this. The line of people – dark silhouettes against the buildings - was 2 blocks up the road and then back down again. We arrived with the first bus and were finally able to leave with the 6th or 7th bus. So much for beating the crowd. However, the bus drivers were very practiced, and once one bus was full, it would leave and the next would pull up to the curb immediately. It only took us half an hour of waiting.

It was still dark as the bus wended its way up the escarpment and through the thick forest. I think it was just as well the first part was in darkness: it did feel like the bus swung out over sheer drops at each hair pin bend. After 10 or 15 minutes, the dark of the mountain side on our left alternated with a dim glow back lighting the peaks on our right. When our side of the bus was to the mountain, we could see nothing in the darkness, but then we would swing around another hair pin bend and see barely discernable tree-covered peaks rising out of the mist. Each time, it was a little lighter and we could see more. It reminded me of scenes from “Gorillas in the Mist.”

We disembarked by the lodge at the entrance to the park. It is the only lodge allowed up there and only because it existed before the area was protected. The line of people went from the bus, up through the door, and as far as the eye could see up the path. It was rather disappointing to get up so early and still be met by such a crowd. Two people (French Canadians) came up the trail from the bottom as we joined the queue. It took them an hour and 10 minutes to climb the stairs from Aguas Calientes. We had thought of doing that, but knowing the pace of our children, it would have been mid-morning by the time we arrived at the top! As we waited, we people-watched. All around us we could hear hushed voices talking in different languages – French, German, Japanese, English (all different accents), Russian and other languages I didn’t recognize. The only race I didn’t see represented was African. Well, I saw a couple African-Americans, but no Africans. E.J. joked that it was going to be like seeing the crown jewels in London - you are in a single-file queue with no option but to move forward a step as the person before and behind takes a step forward. We could already imagine it – “This is the Temple of the Sun. OK. Move forward. Thirty seconds per person please!” However, when we passed the check-in and had our tickets stamped, the crowd soon dispersed. We went up to our left to the guard house. We wanted to watch the sun rise over the mountains and light the ruins laid out below. There were llamas on the terraces so that tourists could pet them and take pictures. We had seen postcards of Machu Picchu with a llama head seemingly superimposed on the picture. We discovered that those pictures weren’t fixed – we even have several similar pictures and it still looks like someone stuck a llama head in the picture with Photoshop. Of course, petting the llamas was the highlight of the day for both children.

It takes the sun a long time to clear the peaks to the east, so we walked along the Inca Trail for a few metres. We met the first group of hikers coming off their 4-day hike – many Americans (from USA). They were very voluble in their relief to have finally arrived. Then we turned onto the terraces and walked back to the guard house along with a steady stream of hikers from the trail. We were above Machu Picchu by maybe 50-100 metres in elevation, and kiddy corner to the entrance of the Temple of the Moon. We could see a crowd of people in their colourful hiking gear on the other side of the ruins by the Sacred Rock. The park regulates how many people can climb to the Temple of the Moon each day. The first 1000 (something like that…) people are allowed to climb up. Some of the hikers were disgusted that, after 4 days hiking, they didn’t arrive in time to visit the Temple of the Moon. We could have easily made it, but I didn’t feel like pushing and crowding together with 999 other people. As it was, it took some manipulating to take pictures of the sun-lit ruins with no person walking in front of the camera.

We considered following the Inca Trail to the Sun Gate, which we could see on the nearest pass, but it was an hour and a half hike along the stone-paved path – didn’t sound too exciting. Scooter rather would see the cave on Machu Picchu Mountain. So we decided to climb that while it was still cool (it was then 7:30am). The Inca’s considered the mountain top sacred and went up there for religious ceremonies, so they had lovely granite stairs all the way up. That is, 2 ½ hours (for us) of stairs. After 1 ½ hours, E.J.’s comment was, “Inca’s sure loved stairs.” His tone of voice indicated that he was fed up with stairs. Still, it was incredible to climb stairs that literally jutted out over 100 or more feet drops. What they must have done to not only carry all those stones up there, but to build the stairways on the steep slopes! I must be growing old, because I kept thinking, “just one misstep and over I go.” I don’t remember ever having a problem with vertigo before. Maybe the difference was climbing with a 3-year old. She still can't control her walking that well and she would occasionally lose her balance and pull on my hand (or E.J.’s) as she tried to regain her feet. For those few seconds, my stomach would rise into my throat and my heart would hammer like crazy. E.J. didn’t have a problem with the drop offs. He couldn’t handle the endless stairs. Boo was falling asleep on her feet by the end of the climb, so E.J. had to carry her. Carrying her up hundreds of stairs was hard work. He kept asking me, “Please tell me you see the top?” Each time we would go around a corner and there would be another staircase with 30-50 stairs curving around the side of the mountain and out of sight. It was daunting. Scooter's litany was,

“Let’s just turn around and go back.”

It was a goad to ensure we kept going:

“We have gone this far; we are not going to turn back without seeing the top now!”

We only saw one other climber on the way up (she steadily walked up and past us). In that way, it was ideal – isolation from the crowds. At the top, we had spectacular, 360 degree views of Mt Veronica (snow capped) and all the other peaks around. It was good to sit in the little open hut at the top and inhale a granola bar as a reward for climbing all those stairs. After a short rest, we explored the top a little. There was a little cave so that Scooter could say he saw one, and a garden-like profusion of red, orange, yellow and blue flowers in and around an old, Inca-built wall.

If we thought going up was bad… Running down the stairs with a 3-year old in tow, sometimes going straight towards a drop off (until the stair case turned sharply to follow the curve of the mountain), with another drop off to one side, was even scarier. I think we did thousands of stairs that day. By the end of the hike down, my legs shook with fatigue. It didn’t help that I carried Boo on my back for a 1/3 of the way. We felt considerably better when several young, childless couples climbing up looked knackered and asked us how much further it was to the top. But the biggest relief was to reach the end of the stairs and make our way shakily over to the exit, where we could go out of the park and eat. The park rules had stated that no food was allowed in the park. So we hadn’t brought lunch. When we collapsed at a table in the one place that sold food, the prices were 3 or 4 times more expensive than in the village below. We could afford 2 waters and 1 sandwich, which I carefully divided 4 ways. I felt like Asterix in “The Great Crossing” when he slices up their last apple. The other three watched with grumbling stomachs and perhaps a bit of drool. The water was perhaps even more appreciated as we had all finished our water on the hike and the day was already hot.

After lunch, we made our way back into the park to explore the ruins. There were a lot more people, including day-tours from Cusco. But the ruins are quite extensive and we could be in most places and see only 2-3 other people. That was just as well, as Boo was not happy. She was tired, hungry, hot and sick of walking around. I could sympathize because I was hot, tired, hungry and wished I could find somewhere to sit that didn’t have a covering of clinging dirt. Boo looked and sounded like a horrible brat – runny nose from crying, covered in grey dirt from head to toe due to several bouts rolling on the ground, moaning and crying, and hair disarrayed like a mad woman. I began seriously wondering why on earth we were there.

Believe it or not, there were more stairs. E.J. almost rebelled, but we did get through all the complex, including hundreds of more steps. We stayed until 5 p.m. and Boo fell asleep 2 more times. One time, E.J. and I took turns sitting and holding her while the other went exploring with Scooter. I sat on a rock at the bottom of a wide, curving staircase up to Cajunta 15, overlooking Cajunta 12 and the lower agricultural terraces. In every direction, mountains and valley spread out, some covered with clouds. It was sunny, yet there was a cool wind. A small lizard crawled along the wall behind me and a bird fluttered around nearby. It was incredibly peaceful (especially with Boo sleeping!). I could see why the Inca chose this location for his royal palace and a temple complex. Exploring the ruins was fun when it was just Scooter and me. The walls and stairs formed a three-dimensional maze where you could wander for a long time. We took the guide book along and tried to find the various points of interest.

The Incas held many different rocks as sacred and would build temples around them. Usually, it seemed that if the rock looked like a near-by mountain, then it was sacred. Right before we left, we visited the Temple of the Condor. Inside was a rock that, when you looked at it from above, looked a bit like a condor in flight. There was a tunnel underneath this temple, and a staircase leading up so you could look at the lower floor from above. It was one of those neat places that a child loves to explore.

We had planned to hike down to Aguas Calientes, but the family rebelled in the end, and it did feel good to just relax on the bus going down. We treated ourselves to a big, 3-course meal that night!