DAY 1
Friday morning, hauling backpack and slathered in sunscreen, I made my way to the plaza to begin our Inca trail adventure. A van delivered us to Ollyantaytambo, where we were to round up some porters and set off. Unfortunately, the porters, it seemed, had not been made aware of this plan. In fact, we couldn't find enough. So we waited. We ate banana pancakes at a local cafe. We slept in the van. We checked out jewelry shops with BOTH kinds of Peruvian jewelry shop workers-- the high pressure tourist hunter and the slightly stoned craftsman. We walked around. We did not hike that morning. When the necessary porters (there are actually laws about the number of porters a party is required to bring on the trail) had been imported from nearby cities, it was lunch time, so we had lunch before heading out. And then we were off.
Day 1 hiking was easy, beautiful, and fun. Our guide pointed out medicinal plants (translation, narcotic plants), ancient ruins, and the landscape was stunning. We were walking though valleys, and the mountains around us were just beginning to turn green with the rainy season. When we camped, we were introduced to the phenominal food that the porters would prepare throughout the trip. After coffee and crackers, we had a semolina soup. Dessert was also served-- a candied plantain in syrup. Luxury camping at its finest.
DAY 2:
Saturday morning, we woke very, very early. 4:45. Fortunately, the porters woke us with cups of tea in the tents and a nice crepe for breakfast. At this point, I was beginning to wonder if we were really experiencing the Inca trail as the Incas did. Something tells me they had fewer condiment choices for their crepes. Before setting out, the porters took a substantial portion of the loads off our backs in preparation for the toughest day. I had (and still do have) a moral discomfort with the amount of work the porters did for us-- their roles were uncomfortably similar to servants'-- but I have doubts about my ability to survive day two without the support of porters. At any rate, I'm immensely grateful, because:
Day two was a killer. In total, I believe we hiked for 9 hours that day, and at least two thirds was us stairs. Stairs. The Incas loved their stairs. Not much can be said about those stairs, other than that I'd be more than happy to live a perfectly level life and never see another step. The elevation gain was significant. Between the altitude (4200 meters) and the coca leaves that we kept chewing, it was the highest I'd ever been. (just kidding benevolent, fun-loving Princeton folks, please don't squash our funding!).
The grueling nature of Day 2 was more than worth it when I consider the sights. We saw mountains in mist, waterfalls, ancient green overgrowth, and ancient, pristine Incan ruins. It was in day two that I started to feel the liberating removal from civilization that marks the best trips in nature. It was in day two that I had my strongest moment of “praise be, the trail levels out now.” And it was in day two that the Princeton bridge year group proved our musical prowess by belting out “Fill Me Up Buttercup” from ancient Incan constructions.
DAY 3
Day 3 was a relatively breezy 6 hours or so, and after the morning hike, we had the afternoon free to journal, engage in insightful discussions with group members, and reflect on the magnificent beauty around us. Instead, we slept. It was wonderful. Afterwords, we hoped on over to a huge ruin with a grand set of agricultural terraces and the rainbow temple. Incan belief: Don't smile at rainbows, negative energy will enter your body and rot your teeth.
In the evening, we had the typically delicious dinner (a beet and carrot salad with Chow mein noodles and, mystery of mysteries, a cake) and then applauded and tipped the porters.
A thought on the porters: These guys do the same Inca trail we do, except that they get up an hour earlier to set up breakfast and start breaking camp. They run past us on the trail to arrive at rest points an hour earlier to set up lunch, dinner, and camp. They make the food, do the dishes, filter the water, and set the table. And they do it all with packs that are at least 25 kilos. And packs is a loose term, most don't have waist support. And a decent number of them were wearing sandals. They made the Incan trail luxurious, and they are paid next to nothing in American terms, maybe a total of 150 dollars for the four days. I can't decide how to feel about them. I feel guilty for the business arrangement that we had with them, but I also recognize that the four day income is more than many families make in a month here. And of course, they made my time on the incan trail so much more pleasant. Like so much in Peru, the situation is complex.
DAY 4 (AKA MACHU PICCHU DAY)
We woke up in the middle of the night to hike the last couple of hours to Machu Picchu. The last stretch was a high intensity cold war of a race. All the trekers wanted to arrive first, but nobody could flat out run. Instead, the line of people was marching at top speed and rudely jostling to pass. We couldn't stop for a break on that last couple of kilometers. It was madness.
The first sight of Machu Picchu was an outline in the fog. I can't really do the lost city justice, maybe the pictures will help, but the panoramic view from Winu Picchu, the nearby mountain that we climbed, was one of the unforgettable sights of my life. I will say that I found the tourism a bit odd. This ancient lost city feels like it should be deserted, perpetually abandoned to time but instead, it crawls with bright shirted tourists and scruffy backpackers.
Anyhow, enjoy the pictures:
This entry is written with such clarity and heart, it's like riding in your backpack, peeking out like a chihuahua and rubbing against your thoughts. :) :)
ReplyDeleteThis is so interesting, both the idea of backpacking with “a choice of three condiments” and thinking about the porter’s personal life. For most tourists this is a once in a lifetime trip, but they do it once a week. Love the details, more blog entries please!
ReplyDelete