When Denis wrote about the long day, he didn't yet know that it wasn't the longest. The longest day was the last one. I'll explain my theory about why that happened. The day before, we'd been hiking along a picturesque section of the Salkantay trail, with magnificent views, wild strawberries, and pastoral meadows near tropical farms. The farms sold freshly squeezed fruit drinks. How could we refuse? Well, we drank a glass of orange and mango juice. We bought some juicy mango and avocado. Everything was fine until the evening, but then my temperature spiked, my stomach started churning, and I started acting up.
The next morning, things only got worse, but I still had to keep going. I had to shove down some of my breakfast with a couple of pills and exert myself once again. After saying goodbye to our hospitable host, Freddy, we set off. Soon, our trail merged with another—the Inca Trail. It was especially crowded in the morning because everyone had already gotten up, eaten breakfast, and packed their bags by around seven (some even earlier). Over time, the groups and individual tourists dispersed. But before that, we'd been walking at the same pace with some young people from Germany for a long time. Their pace spurred me on, and I was sweating, but I didn't slow down. The Peruvian guide even complimented me on my progress. We passed each other in a clearing, and suddenly, all our strength gave out. The only good thing about this was that the climb to the pass was over. Then came a long, long descent, because I could barely drag my feet and kept stopping to rest and drink water. Near the hydroelectric power station, the trail turned toward the railroad. At first, I thought, "How stupid to suggest tourists follow the railroad!" But it turned out to be extraordinarily beautiful, covered in thickets of heliconia along the sides and the sacred Urubamba River on the right.
While we were having a snack on the riverbank, we suddenly discovered the ruins of ancient walls visible on the other bank. Armed with binoculars, we spent a long time examining the ancient structure. It was likely part of the Machu Picchu Archaeological Reserve, inaccessible to tourists.
As we walked, it rained from time to time, then suddenly it cleared up as if nothing had happened and it became hot, the air was filled with the scent of unknown herbs.
We spent the last part of our journey along a road crisscrossed by tour buses, ferrying countless tourists to Machu Picchu. Naturally, there were no sidewalks or even separate paths. Once again, I thought about how nice it would be to create a more comfortable route for hikers. It may be a narrow valley, bordered by a river and steep cliffs, but a traveler doesn't need much. And walking along the paths, constantly crossing them for various reasons, is unsafe, as is the narrow dirt road with no shoulders.
By the end of the journey, I was so tired that I was moving my legs automatically. There's nothing worse than being in poor condition during a long journey! And most importantly, there's no regular transport there, only scheduled trains and tour buses, which aren't allowed to pick up travelers.
- I need to rest a little, -
I said when we checked into the hotel room, lay down on the bed and plunged into blissful idleness.
Only later, about two hours later, did I find the strength to take a shower. But I still didn't have enough strength to go to a restaurant to celebrate the end of the journey. And Denis, although he complained about the long journey and said he was tired, ran out for pizza, organized tea, and life began to improve.
What did we do after dinner? We rested, rested, and finally fell asleep. That's what our tired bodies needed.
Machu Picchu: the town and the archaeological site.
We arrived at the town of Machu Picchu (officially called Aguas Calientes) in the late afternoon. We were really tired because the day had been arduous and challenging.
I can't say I liked the town, especially at first. Gray skies, a muddy, unpaved road toward Machu Picchu (the town itself was paved, after all), and a drizzle... Later, the rain stopped, but the sky remained gray.
But the hotel was quite comfortable, and there was hot water (true to the town's name: Aguas Calientes - Hot Waters / Hot Springs), internet, and the electricity never went out during the two days we spent there. Pure luxury!
Of course, our main goal was to visit Machu Picchu. That's not easy.
Firstly, the number of tickets is limited. If you want to have a choice, you need to buy tickets several months in advance. I bought them five months in advance. You need to buy them on official website.
Secondly, you can't just buy a ticket "to Machu Picchu." There are several routes, and you need to buy tickets for a specific route.
As a result, I bought tickets for two routes:
The most popular route is #2
Route #3 with the addition of Huayna Picchu.
Together, these routes allow you to walk around the entire Machu Picchu, and the mountain is an added bonus.
The internet suggested spreading the two visits over two different days to increase the chance of having at least one in good weather, but I looked at the travel time and decided I didn't want to do it twice. So I scheduled the visits back-to-back: at 7 a.m. to catch the morning light 😀, and at 9 a.m. I must say, this decision turned out to be a very good one: on the day of our visit, the weather cleared up just in time for the second route, but the next day it drizzled from morning until 2 p.m., when we left for home.
There are two different ways to get to the place:
Most people buy bus tickets. Buses run regularly, cost $12 each way, and the ride takes about an hour, including waiting in line.
Some especially brave ones choose to walk. One end takes at least an hour and a half, and the walk to Machu Picchu is quite difficult, as it involves a long, steep climb up stairs.
In the end, we chose the combined option—take the bus there and walk back. So I went to the bus station to buy bus tickets. Then I came back and went again 😣—it turns out these wonderful people need a passport to sell tickets.
I even understand why they need a passport: tickets are cheaper for Peruvians, and a passport is needed to identify who is Peruvian and who is not. But I was already buying the most expensive ticket for the "gringos." Apparently, they thought I was actually Peruvian (well, yeah, you can't tell me apart from a Peruvian) and was maliciously buying the most expensive tickets. And a photo of my passports on my phone didn't satisfy them—only originals, only hardcore.
Of course, I can't be bothered to walk to the hotel and back—the town is small, and the walk takes ten minutes at most. But this incident, I think, is typical for Peru: they love senseless controls.
For example, there were several checkpoints along the trail where you had to write down your last name, country, age, and passport number. At first, I thought they were trying to extort money from tourists, but they do it completely for free. And no one checks the information: I had the idea of registering in Russian as Emperor Maximilian I. I was too lazy to look up passport numbers, so I simply didn't write them down.
At hotels, too, they scan your passports when you check in, and then you have to fill in your last name, first name, age, and passport number on a form. Heck, you have a scan—so just fill it in yourself if you need to! But no, that's how it's supposed to be.
I wonder if this passion for control stems from the traditions of the Inca Empire, where control was absolutely total: North Korea, compared to that empire, would be a den of anarchy. Perhaps it was precisely thanks to this total control that 168 (in words: one hundred and sixty-eight) Spaniards took over a country with a population of 10 million in just a few years: all they had to do was seize the center and start issuing new commands, and the population, accustomed to obeying, didn't even utter a word.
But I digress. I did buy tickets for the second trip, so we got our tickets, raincoats, and passports ready and went to bed.
We woke up early this morning (we're always early on the trail, so it wasn't hard), and by 5:30 we were already having breakfast. Breakfast at the hotel, by the way, starts at 4:30—everything here is geared towards tourists visiting Machu Picchu.
Around 6:00 a.m., we went to the bus stop. A light drizzle was falling, and the line was long. The mood was so-so: neither one nor the other inspires enthusiasm. But I can't help but notice the resourcefulness of the Peruvians: street vendors stood in the doorways between the buildings near the line, offering raincoats. We don't need them—we have our own.
The line moves pretty quickly: a bus pulls up, a few people quickly board, and we move forward. Soon we're on the bus, taking us up a steep, serpentine road.
By the time we got off the bus, the rain had almost stopped. However, the golden morning light was gone—everything was obscured by fog. This, however, only added to the mystique of this amazing place.
It's hard to talk about Machu Picchu because you just need to see it bearded joke. The scale of the structures and the way they fit into the surrounding landscape make a great impression.
I can't help but mention the topic of polygonal masonry that occupied me in Peru. The fact is that here, as in many other places, two completely different stone laying technologies are used: the extremely high-tech polygonal masonry, where each stone (and these stones can be VERY large: in Ollantaytambo, for example, some stones weigh hundreds of tons) are processed in such a way that the gap between one and the next is about a millimeter. How a Stone Age civilization (they had bronze and copper tools, but in extremely small quantities and sizes) could fashion complex three-dimensional objects from solid andesite (and in Ollantaytambo, granite) blocks with such precision (they weigh from hundreds of kilograms to hundreds of tons—trying and adjusting them is impossible; everything must be done at once and then put in place) remains a mystery. It also remains a mystery why they had already lost this technology by the time the Spanish arrived.
There is also a much rougher masonry, where more or less suitable stones are connected with mortar:
The official theory is that the Incas used polygonal masonry for particularly important structures, and rough mortar for simpler ones. But this doesn't explain why one wall might begin with polygonal masonry and then continue with rough mortar:
Before my trip to Peru, I listened to a lot of YouTube shows (I actually listened to them while jogging), including some crazy theories from a Russian group of alternative-themed researchers who believed that polygonal masonry was the remains of an ancient high-tech civilization, while the rougher mortar-based masonry was the work of the Incas, who, as best they could, restored and completed the dilapidated ancient structures they inherited.
Despite its absurdity, this theory explains well the inconsistencies in buildings with combined masonry, in which the mortar masonry is ALWAYS higher (and therefore later) than the polygonal masonry.
However, I will not insist on this theory - it is too non-trivial and changes all existing ideas about the history of the development of world civilizations.
Bonus: Huayna Picchu Mountain
Our second route included a visit to the mountain Huayna Picchu. Before you reach the top of the mountain, there's another checkpoint where you need to write down your name, passport number, departure time, and something else.”Socialism is, first of all, accounting.” (V. Lenin). Although, in this case, keeping records is justified: it's easy to fall over on the mountain, so using the logbook (upon returning, you need to find your entry and check in) you can determine who went there and never returned.
Not everyone climbs this mountain because the mountain is high and the trail is steep:
But we did:
And we didn't regret it. Besides the mountain itself being interesting (and filling us with a sense of accomplishment), it offers excellent views of Machu Picchu. Just in time, the weather cleared up briefly, and the sun even appeared at times.
At the very top of the mountain there is a small platform where you can sit and take photos of the surrounding fog:
And then we went down the steep and slippery steps.
Although only a small percentage of the total number of visitors climb the mountain, there are still quite a few, and among them are some truly colorful characters. For example, at the summit, Natasha encouraged a bald, older man—he was flushed and steaming; he must have been struggling. Later, on the descent, this man overtook us as if we were standing still: he practically ran down the steep, slippery steps, easy and effortlessly. It seems he's significantly more physically fit than we are, and the steam coming off him was because he was also running up the mountain.
Or this colorful group of either Japanese or Koreans:
Overall, the climb up the mountain left me with no less of an impression than Machu Picchu itself. If you go there, I highly recommend it.
End of the day.
After Machu Picchu, we walked for a long time down steep old stairs from the mountain. At the very bottom there is Machu Picchu Museum, entrance to which is also covered by our ticket. It's not crowded because most tourists are returning on buses and don't notice it.
Well, then we had a rest, sat in the rain in hot spring, took a shower, and went to a nice restaurant to celebrate our wedding anniversary:
We woke up as the pre-dawn light began to filter through the transparent roof of our hut. Time to get up; a long day lies ahead. We need to cross the 19 kilometers of the pass.
We quickly pack our things into our backpacks, get dressed, and head to breakfast. We go fully dressed, because it's around freezing outside, and the cafeteria isn't much warmer.
We set off at six. Directly ahead is Salkantay Peak (6,721 meters), but we're not going there, we're heading to the pass of the same name. It's only 4,600 meters high, and local guides call it Gringo Killer. Well, let's see...
We're moving up slowly but steadily. We're probably a little slower than the current this time, but we're not in a race here. Eventually, we'll all get there…
Here's the pass. We're a bit tired, but very much alive.
The view of the peak from here is magnificent…
Well, time to go down. On the way, we heard what sounded like a train passing nearby. A small avalanche had descended from the peak. Far from anyone, no one was hurt. A reminder that it's not a good idea to relax in the mountains...
A few hundred meters from the pass, according to the map, there should be a water source. Here it is: a stream thoughtfully channeled through the neck of a plastic bottle. Thank you, unknown innovator! It's much more convenient to collect water this way.
We stop to make coffee. We have a stove, we bought gas in Cusco, and we've got a coffee maker to go…
While we're cooking, people are walking by. And some are riding: a group of reckless cyclists has climbed the pass.
After coffee and a rest, we're noticeably stronger, and we head downhill briskly. And then we discover that many people don't know how to descend properly. We have friends who enjoy trail running—running in the mountains. We can't do that, but we can do a few things. Specifically, when descending a moderately steep and non-slippery trail, you don't have to fight gravity, maintaining your balance after each step. This takes a lot of time and energy. It's much better to maintain dynamic balance, where instead of falling, you take another step. In practice, this is a semi-run with slightly bent legs, somewhat akin to skiing.
Of course, you need strong legs and good balance. And the chances of falling are higher, for example, if your foot keeps sliding downhill on a slippery surface after each step. That's why we have poles: they can help correct problems like these. In fact, I think poles are a game-changer on downhills and greatly increase speed. Some people simply fold them up and hang them on their backpacks. Wild (and very slow) people...
And so we reached the almost horizontal trail. The altitude was 3,400 meters, like in Cusco. The air was so thick, it was so easy to breathe! And then there were the restaurants…
Here we are—yet another shelter. It even has a shower, right in the room, with hot water! Hooray!
And the view from the gallery is beautiful...
We put our phones on charge and take a shower. Soon, a heavy rain begins.
It's a good thing we completed the route in eight hours, not the ten the map suggested. But the slower hikers got soaked; we were talking about this very thing with a family from Spain the next day.
The next morning, breakfast was at 6:30, a downright decadent affair. Over breakfast, the host explained the next stage of the trail, and we set out around seven. The going is easy, but boring: a dirt road. However, it's a chance to observe the unwritten rules of local driving: they honk before blind turns. The roads are narrow, so if you come across an oncoming car around a bend, you could end up slamming into it. Incidentally, the notion that Peruvian drivers are extremely aggressive on the roads doesn't seem true to me: they simply often drive not according to written rules, but "by convention." But more on that later; we'll have another chance to test this out in practice.
Meanwhile, a family from Spain caught up with us, and we were chatting with them over dinner under the pass. We were exchanging impressions of Peru when we reached the bridge over the river. Here, the route splits: you can continue along the road, or you can turn onto a hiking trail along the other side of the river. We took the trail and didn't regret it.
It would probably be easier to walk along the road: the trail goes up and down all the time. But there are strawberries here. Just ordinary wild strawberries, which don't grow here in Michigan. We hide them as we go, pick a few berries, and pop them into our mouths. That alone made the trail worth it.
There are also streams here, flowing into the river. New metal bridges, painted bright green, span them, sometimes next to older wooden ones. It's clear the trail is being maintained.
We come across beautiful waterfalls. We stop at one of these spots to make coffee. It's a bit of a luxury, of course, but why not treat yourself?
Further on, the trail passes a campsite. The grass is trimmed and there are friendly dogs (they're everywhere here). There's also a kiosk selling freshly squeezed juices and fruit. My Spanish is enough to order a glass of juice, a large mango, and an avocado. We drink the juice right there and take the fruit with us.
Finally, we reach a small town. There's civilization here: a store, restaurants with clothes hanging over tables to dry, and a school with a school orchestra rehearsing in the courtyard.
We cross a suspension bridge and soon reach our overnight stop: a coffee plantation. The electricity is out again (a common occurrence here), but there are hot showers. Also on the agenda today is a tour of the coffee plantation.
Coffee plantation tour.
When we checked in, Freddy, the owner (or manager) of the hotel, said there would be a plantation tour at 4 o'clock.
We had already taken a coffee plantation tour in Hawaii, so I thought I knew roughly what to expect.
However, I was mistaken. Firstly, the difference was in Freddie's personality. A very artistic person, he reminded me of Celentano in the film "The Taming of the Shrew.".
Freddy showed us his coffee trees: he has two varieties, Arabica and Brazilian, and there are also bananas, avocados, and coca. And all of this is not just there for nothing: the bananas and avocados provide the coffee trees with much-needed shade. He didn't say what the coca is for. Probably for the peace of mind.
Then we collected some coffee berries and Freddy tossed them into the bath: they'd need to soak for a few days. He gave us some already soaked ones from previous guests.
Then, using a special mechanical device, we separated the coffee beans from the husks and roasted the beans in a wood-fired oven. Finally, we ground the freshly roasted beans using a hand grinder with an attachment.
It's spring here now, which means the rainy season is about to begin. We've already been getting light showers daily. But we've been successfully avoiding them. And now it's pouring. And we're under the roof of a small hut for hikers on the Salkantay trail.
Luckily, today's route was completed two hours earlier than the map indicated; otherwise, we would have been soaked. The rain had already terrified the hikers today, and they had to get out their raincoats, but then it changed its mind and let the sun shine for a while.
The Salkantay Trail leads to Machu Picchu, an ancient Inca city. Denis came up with the idea of hiking it as a great alternative to organized tours. Knowing they were paid for it, we still didn't want to use the Sherpas. But it was hardly a real hiking trip either, as we were traveling light, with practically no food, tents, or sleeping bags. Such journeys have long been practiced by wandering people, but for us, it was a new experience.
A visit to Machu Picchu was meant to be the highlight of our trip, so we prepared seriously. After arriving in Cusco, we spent two days getting used to the thin mountain air, walking through the historic part of the city.
Of course, the streets are up and down, just the way we like them, which should help us on the trail. We're temporarily leaving our hotel. Our suitcases with civilian clothes are in storage. Our light backpacks are packed.
Very early in the morning, we boarded the minibus that would take us to the trailhead. I thought I'd get a nap, but it didn't work out. Very soon, we found ourselves on steep, serpentine bends. I started to feel nauseous. Since we were in the back seat, we were bouncing around more than the others. Denis moved to the center and started looking straight ahead, saying it was the best way to get over motion sickness. I mitigated it with mint gum and wiping my face with cold condensation from the window. Don't blame me for that, I was really sick then. When we stopped for breakfast in one of the mountain villages, I was completely hungry; I couldn't even swallow a bite. But Denis, I noticed, had recovered and was tucking into some fruit. Later, we decided that this had been the hardest part of our journey.
How good it was to get out of the stuffy car and breathe in the clean mountain air!
A couple of about thirty-five years old joins us on the trail. They speak English, and we exchange a few words. We head in the same direction and agree to meet later at camp.
The trail immediately climbs steeply. In the thin mountain air, my head immediately starts to ache and I feel slightly nauseous. Perhaps it's the effects of driving on mountain roads, or maybe altitude sickness is taking its toll. We continue along the trail, and Mount Salkantay looms ahead, as if encouraging us.
The trail leveled out, and for a long time we walked along a narrow channel filled with water. But you can't drink it. We've been warned. In these parts, only bottled water is allowed because there are a lot of livestock, which can carry diseases.
About two and a half hours later, we reach the Surayapampa tourist camp. Here we'll spend the night in a small wooden cabin with a proper bed and a transparent roof.
In the meantime, we can relax in a wooden chair and drink some coca tea. The taste is pleasant, but it didn't overly perk us up.
We met the same guys who started with us there, and we finally got to know each other and even started chatting over a glass of tea. They're Molly and James, from Australia, they've been saving up for three years for a big trip and are now exploring Latin America for seven months straight.
Our cultural program for this day also includes a visit to the sacred Humantai Lake.
There's only a short climb left, but reaching new heights is challenging. There are a lot of day trippers from Cusco, so the trail is crowded. One large group of tourists is already descending. They encourage us, telling us in various languages that it won't be long now.
The lake, with Mount Salkantay in the background, was beautiful. We were advised to climb the hill near the lake.
Indeed, the water, viewed from above, took on shades of blue and turquoise. Fortunately, the sun came out, and the colors sparkled even more vividly. The glacier was reflected in the lake like a white tongue. The lake is sacred; one is not allowed near the water. Here, as in Hawaii, flowers are brought to sacred sites. A bouquet of yellow gladioli looked strange against the cold water.
And who brings them? Surely not Catholics, or Peruvians? Who are these pagans? But perhaps they're still preserved somewhere along the ancient Inca Trail.
We return to camp. The walk back is much easier. Just as we enter our hut, it starts to rain. What luck! We rest, stretched out on the bed. It gets rapidly colder by evening, but it's good that there are at least four blankets. A little later, they feed us dinner. The warmth from dinner dissipates instantly as I brush my teeth outside with cold water in the thick evening twilight, with the temperature around zero. Quick, under four blankets! I need to make another effort and put on thermal pajamas. Through the glass roof of our hut, I can see the sharp teeth of Salkantay suffused with a purple twilight.
It's warm under four blankets, but my hands are cold because they're holding the phone. There's a book on the phone that I'm reading before bed. But I can't read for long because there's no power and I don't want to waste the battery. And why is there no power? Because, as it turns out, the electricity in the sockets comes from solar panels. No sun, no current. It's good that the light bulb is powered by another source (probably batteries). If only I'd known, we could have charged the phones earlier in the day! I put the phone aside and close my eyes. The warmth of four blankets induces drowsiness. It's still incredibly early, about seven in the evening, but considering we woke up at 4:30 in the morning and have to get up at five tomorrow, it's probably not that early. The fatigue of the first day is catching up with me, and I fall asleep thinking about how, on our summer trip, with the same air temperature, we felt great in a tent, in a sleeping bag. And here, with four blankets, it's not that hot.
There are many different ways to get to Machu Picchu:
The most popular way is by train. There are PeruRail , and IncaRai, It costs about the same. But it's relatively quick and convenient: many don't even stay overnight; they'll go there in the morning, run around Machu Picchu, and then straight back.
Cheaper, but much more troublesome: by bus to Hidroelectrica station, then just 10 kilometers on foot along railroad ties, and you're there. It's only $20 one way, but it takes a whole day: seven hours by bus, then a three-hour walk.
Hiking the classic Inca Trail. The downside is that you can't hike it on your own; you must join a group with local porters. It's expensive (starting at $1,000 per person), and I just don't like the idea of porters running ahead with heavy backpacks to set up camp before I arrive. I'm not quite ready for the role of a white sahib yet...
And the route that Natasha and I chose: hiking theSalkantay Trek. The advantage is that you can hike on your own or with guides, spend the night in the tent, or rent rooms along the way... We hiked on our own and chose the most common option: four days of walking, three overnight stays along the way, arriving at Machu Picchu on the fourth day, and spending the night there. Looking at the map, I was afraid that a significant portion of the route would be along the sides of roads, but that's not the case: almost the entire route follows scenic trails. If you want to cheat, you can cut corners—on the first day, ride directly to Lake Humantay instead of the trailhead, and on the third and fourth days, you can take a minibus or taxi for part of the way. But we completed the entire route with flying colors.
Weather
In Peru, there are two seasons: dry: May - October, and rainy: November - April.
We went in October, at the end of the dry season. Despite this, it rained every afternoon, and in Machu Picchu, it rained almost constantly. You need to be prepared for this and keep raincoats handy at all times.
Route and overnight stays
You have to understand that everything here is quite modest; a hot shower is a luxury 🙂. I liked all the accommodations and recommend them. In all three places, we had problems with electricity: during our first overnight stay, the power in the outlets simply went out after dark, even though the lamps were working (it turned out the outlets were powered by solar panels). In the other two places, the power went out for several hours in the entire village. So the first thing you need to do upon arrival is charge your phones.
All links lead to Booking.com. As it turned out, it wasn't necessary to book in advance (we went during the "low season").
Soraypampa Hostel (Soraypampa) is not a hotel, but a very basic shelter. All the accommodations there are pretty much the same, because Soraypampa isn't a residential village, but a point where the road ends. We had a small, unheated hut, but with warm blankets, so we didn't get too cold at night. The advantage of our shelter is that it's located right on the trail to Humantay Lake, so you don't have to waste time walking to the lake's trailhead. They also helped with transportation, which is convenient. Breakfast and dinner are available for an extra fee.
Salkantay Hostel Chaullay — It already feels like a real hotel, there was even a hot shower in the room 😀 Nice place with a wonderful view. Breakfast is included in the price.
Lia B&B Lucmabamba — The most comfortable place we stayed. Situated on a coffee plantation. Freddy (the owner/manager of the hotel) gave us a fascinating tour of the plantation, showing us all the stages coffee goes through, from berry picking to brewing. Hot showers, breakfast, and dinner are included in the room.
In the city of Machu Picchu we spent the night in a hotel Panorama B&B. It's a nice, comfortable place, although quite expensive (the most expensive on our entire trip). But Machu Picchu is a completely touristy place, and everything there is much more expensive than elsewhere in Peru.
