Friday, September 23
Today is the day we set out on the long trek, with our end goal, the eye-popping Inka city, Machu Picchu. A short bus ride from our pleasant little hotel in Ollantaytambo takes us to where our support team of porters and other staff, 20 in total, are waiting to load up with our duffel bags. Each porter carries a huge pack, up to 27 kg on his back. In addition to our gear and their personal stuff, the porters carry tents, food and everything they need to make our lives as comfortable as possible at the campsites. They are supermen.
There is a crush of groups ready to clear the check point where our passports are checked and stamped. Each trail permit is pre-booked and is issued for a specific passport. We stop briefly for a group photo and then we're on our way with our trail guide, Henry, setting a good pace in the lead and Enrique keeping an eye on stragglers. The trail follows the river at a fairly gentle grade. We share the route with locals travelling with donkeys, horses and the occasional llama. About 200 hikers set off each day on the trail, so what with their support teams of porters, there is a considerable amount of foot traffic, until we start to spread out. For the most part, this is a relatively easy day, and yet its not long before I realize how tough the next 4 days are going to be. I am soon at the back of the pack, just staying focussed. One step at a time, one deep breath at a time, I settle into a groove. I make friends with my hiking poles and adjust my day pack comfortably on my back. Together with a camel-back in my pack and a waterbottle in a pouch on my hip, I am carrying 2 litres of water.
Dick, Anna and I keep each other company, making regular stops to catch our collective breaths and drink water. And sometimes we stop to admire the view. We are behind the rest of the group, but not too far. Enrique offers encouragement and herds us forward. The porters have gone ahead and they have set up a dining tent where we stop for a very civilized lunch break. As promised, we have half an hour to eat and half an hour to digest. After lunch it starts to feel like a long slog to our campsite. The terrain changes frequently. We walk on stones laid by the Incas on the trail 500 years ago. The steps are uneven and impossibly high. I follow the route the porters take, which is often at the sides where it is worn smooth. Quite often we follow a preciptious cliff edge where we get stunning views of the valley and tall jagged mountains. We see occasional small settlements and there are even some covered rest spots where I plonk myself down gratefully and eat a quick snack. Homemade beer (chicha) is sold from the places that advertise with a red covered jug on the end of a long stick. This is not for the delicate constitution of the turisticas.
There is a crush of groups ready to clear the check point where our passports are checked and stamped. Each trail permit is pre-booked and is issued for a specific passport. We stop briefly for a group photo and then we're on our way with our trail guide, Henry, setting a good pace in the lead and Enrique keeping an eye on stragglers. The trail follows the river at a fairly gentle grade. We share the route with locals travelling with donkeys, horses and the occasional llama. About 200 hikers set off each day on the trail, so what with their support teams of porters, there is a considerable amount of foot traffic, until we start to spread out. For the most part, this is a relatively easy day, and yet its not long before I realize how tough the next 4 days are going to be. I am soon at the back of the pack, just staying focussed. One step at a time, one deep breath at a time, I settle into a groove. I make friends with my hiking poles and adjust my day pack comfortably on my back. Together with a camel-back in my pack and a waterbottle in a pouch on my hip, I am carrying 2 litres of water.
Dick, Anna and I keep each other company, making regular stops to catch our collective breaths and drink water. And sometimes we stop to admire the view. We are behind the rest of the group, but not too far. Enrique offers encouragement and herds us forward. The porters have gone ahead and they have set up a dining tent where we stop for a very civilized lunch break. As promised, we have half an hour to eat and half an hour to digest. After lunch it starts to feel like a long slog to our campsite. The terrain changes frequently. We walk on stones laid by the Incas on the trail 500 years ago. The steps are uneven and impossibly high. I follow the route the porters take, which is often at the sides where it is worn smooth. Quite often we follow a preciptious cliff edge where we get stunning views of the valley and tall jagged mountains. We see occasional small settlements and there are even some covered rest spots where I plonk myself down gratefully and eat a quick snack. Homemade beer (chicha) is sold from the places that advertise with a red covered jug on the end of a long stick. This is not for the delicate constitution of the turisticas.
Ahh! the campsite at last. Rows of orange tents are set up on a terrace belonging to a local farmer, who greets us at his gate waving a purple Gap flag. The porters, cooks and other staff line up, oldest to youngest to greet us formally. Henry translates as they introduce themselves by name, age and marital status. I find out that I am older than the oldest porter! And, like all of them, he has grown up in this area, is tough and wiry, has legs like pistons; and he can carry 27kg on his back while running uphill over uneven rocky paths. As I said, SUPERMEN.
We claim our duffels and select a tent. Peter and I organize our stuff in the compact space. The mummy style sleeping bags that we rented from Gap, are cosy and warm. The thermarests are placed over foam mats and the porters come around to each tent to help us inflate them properly. We each get a blue basin of warm water to wash in. This is going to be okay, I think. Alice calls it glamping (glamour -camping.) The baño is down a muddy path some distance away so the girls get together and agree on a suitable spot for middle-of the night nature calls.
I think we have made reasonably good time today. We explore the nearby ruin which is immediately adjacent to the farmer's property and wonder at the energy of the porters who are playing soccer in the clearing beside the ruin. Happy hour is at 5pm, a routine we come to look forward to eagerly each day. Crowded into the dining room tent, we are served tea, popcorn, biscuits and jam. There's no alchohol at this happy hour. After a decent dinner miraculously whipped up in the kitchen tent, we are all ready for bed. Before settling down in our tents, we take time to marvel at the glorious night sky with brilliant Southern Hemisphere stars and the creamy white band of the Milky Way. Its very cool at night at this altitude, but I snuggle down into the sleeping bag, wearing long johns for extra warmth, and its quite toasty. I fall asleep to a chorus of snores echoing through the campsite. Sleep well everyone, tomorrow will be a tough day as we head 4200 metres high to the top of Dead Woman's pass.
We claim our duffels and select a tent. Peter and I organize our stuff in the compact space. The mummy style sleeping bags that we rented from Gap, are cosy and warm. The thermarests are placed over foam mats and the porters come around to each tent to help us inflate them properly. We each get a blue basin of warm water to wash in. This is going to be okay, I think. Alice calls it glamping (glamour -camping.) The baño is down a muddy path some distance away so the girls get together and agree on a suitable spot for middle-of the night nature calls.
I think we have made reasonably good time today. We explore the nearby ruin which is immediately adjacent to the farmer's property and wonder at the energy of the porters who are playing soccer in the clearing beside the ruin. Happy hour is at 5pm, a routine we come to look forward to eagerly each day. Crowded into the dining room tent, we are served tea, popcorn, biscuits and jam. There's no alchohol at this happy hour. After a decent dinner miraculously whipped up in the kitchen tent, we are all ready for bed. Before settling down in our tents, we take time to marvel at the glorious night sky with brilliant Southern Hemisphere stars and the creamy white band of the Milky Way. Its very cool at night at this altitude, but I snuggle down into the sleeping bag, wearing long johns for extra warmth, and its quite toasty. I fall asleep to a chorus of snores echoing through the campsite. Sleep well everyone, tomorrow will be a tough day as we head 4200 metres high to the top of Dead Woman's pass.
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