Ciudad Inka de Machupicchu

Monday, September 26
3am - Time to rise and prepare for the final assault on the trail. It doesn't take long to get ready. I slept with most of my clothes on and its way too early to put on contact lenses. Its drizzling and dark. Using headlamps to light the way, we walk 10 minutes to the check point where we are early enough to get a seat under shelter. While we are waiting, Peter tries to straighten my pole, using a rock for leverage, but with limited success. If he can't fix it, I may as well throw it away. Its useless like this and can't retract to be easily portable. Henry takes it away and returns a few minutes later - pole fixed. The sky begins to lighten and at 5:30 am the checkpoint opens. We show our passports and the final leg of our journey begins.
There is a big crowd heading in the same direction but we are one of the first groups and near the front of the pack. We start out at a good pace. At first its pretty even terrain, quite narrow and following the steep mountain edge. I don't even look down any more; the height doesn't bother me, but after my fall yesterday I am cautious stepping on wet stones. The younger, fitter crowd in our group make a break through past the slow hikers in the front, and they are off at a good clip. There is some competitiveness amongst them to be the first to reach the sun gate. I carry on at my own pace - there is a bit of an incline, nothing like the previous days, but I slow down and a few hikers pass me from other groups. When I walk on my own, my energy level plummets. But its only two hours at the most, so I slog it out. Then I am faced with the Gringo Killer, the 50 steps we have been warned about; ladder-steep, impossibly high stones leading to the sun gate. At this point I have two options, sit down and cry, or grit my teeth and clamber up like a baby on all fours. With more than 100 people clambering up behind me, I choose option 2. Enrique is at the top. "Nearly there" he says and yes, apparently he is right. I have made it!

The Sun Gate this morning is more like a Cloud Gate. I overhear a guide promising his group that the clouds will clear and there will be an unobstructed view of the Lost City of the Incas. I take heart from that and follow the group along the downhill slope to the classic view point. Manuel, Therese and Russell, who had not joined us for the hike, are there to meet us and congratulate us for conquering the trail. And while Henry fills us in with more Inca history, the clouds swirl around the high pitched mountains, shift slowly, become wisps and then fade away. The magnficent view of ruins, mountains and valley is revealed.

I would like to say that I had that magic moment, the burst of spiritual clarity that so many people talk about, but for some reason, my mood is anything but euphoric. I had imagined this moment for a long time, and in my mind it was peaceful and meditative. Selfishly I expected a quiet, personal revelation in the solitude of my own headspace. I hadn't taken into account sharing the vision with a crush of hikers and early morning travellers. However, this is a mood that soon disipates. For some reason, we have to exit and then re-enter the gate with our permits and passports. It gives us time to freshen up and have a snack. I take the opportunity, in a bathroom with real sinks and running water, to put on my contacts. That improves my mood immediately. I throw my wet poncho into the trash and strip off a couple of layers. Now that the sun is out, it is blissfully warm.






We go back up the steps for a tour with Henry and then to explore at our leisure. I decide to take some time on my own and I wander off to find a quiet place to meditate. Even though the ruins are littered with tourists, they mostly clump in the same areas, so there are plenty of peaceful nooks and crannies to sit in. I admire the stone work and the incredible structures of temples and houses. Many of the fountains built by the Incas still carry water through the site; an incredible testament to the ingenuity of the builders. The magic of the city begins to work on me. There is so much mystery and creativity in the structures and terraces. The Incas must truly have been driven to be close to the sun to endure the back breaking labour to build even one carefully positioned stone structure, let alone the roads, terraces and aqueducts. I take a moment to thank Paccha Mama for helping me along the trail.

Peter joins me and we spend a couple of happy hours wandering around and photographing everything in sight. Each house has view, and what a view! Pitched slopes, jagged mountains and the Urubama River looking small and far away. The steep rise of the mountain Huana Picchu looms lofty and daunting. There is a line up of people waiting to climb the peak. Crazy people! Oh, perhaps they haven't just completed 4 days of hiking to get here.

The rest of our group are already tucking into a delicious lunch in the appointed meeting spot, when we finally join them, after taking the bus down the switch back road to town of Aguas Calientes. The main road of the town is a railway line. It is lined with restaurants and other facilities to attract tourists. Our day isn't over yet. We still have a long way to travel back to Cusco. First of all the train to Ollantaytambo and then a bus for the rest of the way. The route to the train station is through a colourful craft market but we can only look longingly as we pass through, because we don't want to miss the train.The train ride is heavenly, with comfy seas and a sit down loo that flushes, and toilet paper. Tea and snacks are served. The railway follows the river and we get views of farms, ruins and the rushing river.

On the bus ride most people doze, but I can't take my eyes off the fertile fields and rolling hills bathed in the beautiful light of the setting sun.
Back at the Cuzco Plaza II hotel we collect the valuables and luggage they have kept in storage and have a luxurious shower. There is hot water, which is not always the case in this hotel. Manuel has arranged for a much needed laundry pick up. Six of us join Manuel for dinner in the San Blas area and then onto a club for Salsa lessons and dancing till the wee hours. I can't believe how my legs revive on the dance floor but by 1:30 am I have to call it quits.