Trek to Machu Picchu: Dias Tres y Quatro

    I hope you are all enjoying the tales of our Jungle Trek to Machu Picchu thus far. I will try my best to finish describing how incredible our journey was, but I honestly don't know if the appropriate words exist. Our guide, Yawar, explained that whenever the Inca hiked to Machu Picchu, they considered their journey a "pilgrimage" or a chance to change something about their mind or spirit  and Yawar wanted us to consider our trek the same.  As I sit here, reflecting back on our trip, I definitely believe our voyage to Machu Picchu had in impact on my soul.
I can honestly say I have never spent that much time with such a large group of culturally diverse people in my life. Our whole group consisted of two Belgians, one Dutch, seven Germans, four French, four Americans and, counting our guides, two Peruvians.  I thought this would result in elaborate discussions about the differences in our countries; however, after having a thorough, in-depth conversation about the TV shows 'South Park' and 'Lost', and agreeing on how amazing the American rapper 'Snoop Dog' is in concert, I quickly realized how wrong my expectations were. None the less, it was great to befriend and connect with people so different, yet so eerily similar, to myself.

Our zip-lining crew

Me zipping over Rio Urubamba with
"emergency break" in foreground. 

    With that said, I   should explain more about the second half of our friendly jaunt to the Lost City.  After bunking up in Santa Teresa with a French couple for the night, Alex and I woke up around seven am on Sunday morning and anxiously scarfed down a chocolate-banana crepe, hoping it wouldn't make a reappearance during our next 'challenge': zip-lining. Now, as some of you may know, I grew up with a zip line in my backyard. With a maximum hight of eight feet and specialized rubber handles for extra grip, I thought my backyard zip-line was just about as cool as they came... boy, was I wrong.

Suited up and ready to fly.

High-flying Alex

      Nine of us daring trekkers were corralled into the Inca Flyer Zip Lining office for a quick demonstration on the Do's and Don't's  of high-altitiude zip lining. As I was strapped into a full body harness and handed a pair of heavy-duty gloves and a durable helmet, I knew this wasn't going be the childish zip-lining I was used to back home. No, no. This, was The Business.
       After a steep, ten minute walk we reached the first out of five lines. I watched as one of the instructors clamped onto the line and soared off like it was just another day at the office (well, I guess it was). So, with a desire to calm the army of butterflies waging war in my stomach, I volunteered to fly first. The instructor methodically attached my clamp to the line and as I sat back, he, without warning, sent me zipping. In a matter of seconds I was soaring high over the banks of Río Urubamba, feeling the warm jungle air breezing past my face and gazing eye-level with lush mountain sides. As I released my white-knuckled grip on the harness and spread my arms into the air, I realized the butterflies in my stomach had gone leaving nothing but pure excitement. Each line zipped was more extreme than the last and by our fifth fly, I decided I wanted to zip up-side-down... and it was AWESOME. And while I thoroughly enjoyed the up-side-down zip lining experience, I couldn't help but think that my dad would have heart-attack if he saw me dangling upside down, hundreds of feet above the jungle floor, attached to only a thin cable. None the less, it was wonderful joining the Inca Flyers Zip Lining family and, admittedly or not, we all breathed a small sigh of relief as we loaded into the van to meet up with the rest of our group. 

Alex, Arther and Jens carrying twice
 the load. (Machu Picchu Mtn. 
in background)

    The original plan was for us to travel an hour or so by bus in order to catch up with the others who spent the morning hiking to our lunch location in Hydroelectrica. About a half an hour into our gladly-accepted ride, our van rattled to a stop in the middle of what looked like a busy construction zone. Yawar hopped out, spoke with one of the men and returned saying, "I have good news and I have bad news. The bad news is the bridge we were supposed to drive over is collapsing, so we are going to have to walk. The good news is... you're with me!" And with that said, we clambered out of the van only to be told the rest of the bad news... "Oh yeah, and we told the others leave their packs in the van this morning so they wouldn't have to carry them. I'm going to need help by having everyone carry another backpack." So, with double the wight and double the complaints we marched under the hot jungle sun to our gloriously-shaded lunch spot.  

Alex, wearing ridiculous poncho
and carrying bananas along
railroad tracks

Part of our group on the
summit of Waynapicchu

    Rain came like clock-work everyday of our trek. The mornings would be full of penetrating sunshine and warm, damp air, with not even hint as to what was to come in the afternoons. We would stop for long, delicious lunches and just as we geared up to leave it was as if the Rain Gods said, "Oh, hey look! They're about to start walking again- time for some rain!," and as if someone flipped a switch, it would start drizzling raining and not let up until well into the night. But this didn't stop us from enjoying the excitement of the journey or the jaw-dropping landscape we ventured through; we'd just throw on our ridiculous ponchos and keep on hiking. That is exactly what we did after leaving Hydroelectrica. For four hours we followed the the world's second highest railway, headed for the Machu Picchu base town of Aguas Calientes. Whenever the low canyon clouds parted and the rain let up, it was possible to look up the mountain towards hints of Machu Picchu and other ancient Incan agricultural terraces scattered along the banks of the river. It was these sightings that encouraged, excited and reminded us that we were getting closer to our final destination.   
    We arrived in the beautiful, ski-resortesque, village of Aguas Calientes and were immediately struck by the town's vulnerability to natural disasters. Sitting at an altitude 6,690 feet, this town is surrounded by steep, fragile mountains with the impressibly massive, incredibly powerful Río Urubamba barreling  through the middle. After learning that a massive flood in 2010 left over 3,000 locals and tourists trapped in this small town, we had a heightened appreciation for its daring location. With great admiration, our group meandered through the cobblestone streets until we arrived at our "up-scale" hostel. By "up-scale" I mean a private room and bathroom with 'warm water' and internet access. Turns out the whole "warm water" aspect only applied to the first three people in the hostel to shower. Regardless, it was great to have a little space to spread out and (try to) dry three days worth of wet clothes. 
After a very rapid, very cold shower, I decided it was time for a hot cup of coffee, so Alex and I wandered up the tourist laden street and ducked into a fancy restaurant overlooking the roaring river. We spent an hour enjoying deliciously warm Irish coffees and talking about the excitement still to come, until it was time for our last group dinner. Over a tasty meal of beef, vegetables and the unavoidable potatoes and rice, Yawar instructed us on the next day's plans for Machu Picchu. Those who wanted to hike the hour-and-a-half stair route should leave the hostel no later than four-thirty a.m., while those who wanted to take the bus route should buy their tickets and be ready at the bus station around five-thirty a.m. It was essential that we all met at the entrance gate between six and six-fifteen a.m. in order to begin our tour and have to maximum exploration time in the Lost City. Alex and I opted for the hiking route, thinking it would be much more authentic to march the up the stairs. So after leaving the restaurant, re-packing our still-wet clothes, and setting the cell phone clock to four a.m. we hit the sack, with dreams of golden Incas and furry lamas dancing in our heads. 
    The second the alarm went off, we anxiously gathered our packs paying no attention to the erie quietness of the halls. As we stepped into the street I mentioned to Alex how oddly bright it was for four-thirty in the morning and, after glancing at his watch, he replied, "Well, ya, it's five-twenty-seven in the morning..." FIVE TWENTY-SEVEN? WE OVERSLEPT!! The next fifteen minutes were chaos as we hustled up the street, frantically looking for the bus ticketing booth, pulling funds we hadn't previously planned on and clambering for a spot on the earliest possible bus. As fate would have it, we snagged a seat behind Yawar and a few of the German girls who opted out of hiking. Slightly disappointed at our missed opportunity, yet relived that we wouldn't miss the tour, we settled in for the twenty-five minute ride up to Machu Picchu, munching on a breakfast of bananas and saltines along the way. 

View of Machu Picchu from
"The Guard House"  ruin

Just as the fog was lifting

    Before I get into just how awesome Machu Picchu was, I think it would be valuable to provide a little background information. The location was first discovered over a hundred years ago by a farmer living in the Urumbumba Valley. He first came across a small, very old dwelling and just as he was going to deem the site "Old House"  he noticed more of these ancient huts and decided to call the area "Old Town." But after realizing there were multiple locations scattered over the mountain he decided it was an "Old Peak" or, in Quechua, "Machu Picchu." When the farmer went to the Peruvian government with news of this new discovery, they simply shooed him away, treating him like a mindless farmer that didn't know what he was talking about. It wasn't until 1911 when Yale University professor Hiram Bingham III "rediscovered" Machu Picchu and conducted the first archeological digs and excavations. It was Bingham that opened the eyes of the world to this majestical location and it is because of him that we were able to enjoy the greatness of Machu Pichhu. And for that I'll say, Thank You, Professor Bingham, for making our amazing adventure possible. 
     I hope you'll bare with me during the next part of this post. To try and explain in words just how amazing Machu Picchu truly was, is like trying to explain a powerful dream: no matter how descriptive you are or how vividly you remember it, it is impossible to properly convey how much it affected you. 
So, as my brother would say, here goes nothing. 

Just as Yawar planned, our group entered the gates of this world wonder promptly at six-fifteen a.m. and, with jaws agape and silver-
dollar sized eyes we were ushered among the site's ruins. I wish I could share with you the sure-to-be valuable information Yawar told to us, but I was too awestruck by the pure surreality of the Inca hideaway I'd steped foot in. Considering it was still very early in the morning and rain had fallen the entire night, most of Machu Picchu was still hiding in a thick layer of fog, but this only heightened the day's excitement. We were rushed from ruin to ruin and rapidly told tidbits about ancient Incan society that left me aching for time to explore on my own. With mixed feelings we said "thanks" and "farewell" to Yawar and watched as that happy little Quechua man scurried off to catch his train; while it was sad knowing our adventure was almost over, the excitement of knowing we were now on our own to explore the magical Inca city was nearly unbearable. Just as Alex and I took off to check out the agricultural sector of the ruins, the fog lifted, revealing the early morning sun and urging us to continue our ancient inspection. 

Admiring the ruins atop
Waynapicchu. 

Alex with terraces in 
background.

Before we left on the Jungle Trek we paid for a ticket to climb up Waynapicchu Mountain. If you look at a picture of Machu Picchu, Waynapicchu is the tall, pointy mountain in the background and in Quechua, Waynapicchu means "Young Peak."  However, it wasn't long into the climb that we realized just how old this young peak made us feel. I am not kidding when I say that the only way up and down this mountain was to carefully navigate the hundreds of old, slippery stone stairs. We summited the "young peak" after forty-five minutes of breathless stair-stepping and were rewarded with one of the most amazing views I have ever laid eyes on. A three-hundred-and-sixty degree view from the top held magnificent sights - the winding Río Urubamba bordered by massive, lush mountains and a stunning birds-eye view of Machu Picchu. Even the skinny mountain top contained ancient ruins and symmetrical terraces used for high-altitude agriculture. Considering the effort it took to climb Waynapicchu, Alex and I
made the most of our time on the summit by exploring the various Incan remnants. We were astonished that, against all odds, these people were not only able to successfully construct sturdy, decent sized structures but also how intricately they sculpted indestructible terraces into the steep mountainsides. Yawar explained that each terrace was intelligently designed: large, durable rocks created the first layer, followed by a second layer of smaller rocks, then a coating of large pebbles, followed by a layer of small pebbles, overlaid with coarse sand and blanketed with a layer of fine sand until finally topped off with rich soil. Not only did these terraces ward off landslides (of which we saw many) but they also hindered the possibility of flooding and, as the temperature dropped in the winter, the complex layers captured the day's heat and prevented frost from destroying the crops. As Alex pointed out, this is the same technique we use in today's world for constructing arenas like football fields. So, after paying our respects to the "Young Peak" we slowly made our descent, realizing how much more of the Lost City there was to tour; and more than half our day already was over. 

View from atop Waynapicchu

Me and Alex atop Wayanapicchu

    The rest of our group decided they were Machu Picchued-out, so, after making plans to meet up for dinner and scarfing down quick lunch, Alex and I hit the two-mile, rocky footpath in search for The Sun Gate. This ruin is the original entrance to Machu Picchu via the authentic Inca Trail and it also holds a spectacular view of the ancient city. Naturally, it began pouring rain minutes after reaching The Sun Gate. But instead of snapping a few pictures and scurrying down to shelter, Alex and I whipped out our ever-handy ponchos and posted up on the edge of the ancient ruin, welcoming the solitude and once-in-a-life-time view.

View from The Sun Gate 

At The Sun Gate before the downpour 

    With only an hour left until closing time, we reluctantly left our prime post and headed back down the trail hoping to re-visit a few more ruins before being kicked out. The second we reached the main sector of Machu Picchu, it was as if someone flipped the "off" switch for the rain; the clouds parted and we were blanketed in glorious rays of warm sun. Most of the visitors were scared off by the storm, so Alex and I practically had the wonderfully sunny sanctuary to ourselves.  I realized our isolation just as the Sun Gods beamed down on us and that exact moment contained a feeling of joy I will never forget; it was truly magical.  

    With heightened excitement, my fellow explorer and I galavanted through ruins previously surrounded by fog, snapping photos of the surrounding views and asking annoyed security guards to take our picture. After offering a customary prayer at Monumento a Los Rocas, or 'Monument Rock', we felt we'd done just about all we could in only one day at Machu Picchu and unwillingly headed for the exit with the sound of the five o'clock closing-time whistles urging us on. Just as the ruins were about to slip from sight, I stopped to soak in one long last look at the remarkable landmark: just as I'll never forget that previous feeling of joy, I will never forget my last glance at marvelous Machu Picchu. 

    Taking into account Alex and I missed our chance to hike up to the entrance in the morning, we opted to hike the trail (or should I say descend the steep steps) down to Aguas Calientes. Despite the rain, we made it down the mountain in good time, which left us time to retrieve my pack from the hostel and change clothes before meeting up with the rest of our group for dinner. 
    We ate a sub-par meal in a small mexican restaurant and sipped on a couple cocktails until it was time to catch the late nine-thirty p.m. train back to Ollantaytambo. As we settled in for our journey back to the chaos of Cusco, it was easy to reflect on how amazing our four day Jungle Trek had been. With memories of speeding downhill on the bike, soaking my bones in hot Peruvian spring water, zipping high across the roaring river and exploring through one of the world's greatest wonders, fresh in my mind, I drifted off to sleep with the steady monotony of the train. 

Sign at the beginning of the
hike down - I love it. 

    This leads me to the conclusion of this post (... finally...). Experiencing the magic of Machu Picchu was more spectacular than I could have ever imagined. This amazing world wonder truly fits the definition that pictures don't do justice and to have the chance explore around this hidden city, nestled snugly in the "eyebrow of the jungle," is an episode in my life that I will never forget.
    To say that I highly recommend visiting Machu Picchu is an understatement; if you ever get the chance, make Machu Picchu a "must" on your list.  And if you can afford the time, book a trip with Alive Adventures Jungle Trek and request Yawar as your guide - I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

* Below are more pictures from our trip, but to really get an idea of how much fun we had, make sure to check out our YouTube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_i-x97sHBU! Thanks for reading! 

Alex at The Guard House 

Below Temple of The Sun 

Temple of Three Windows 

Obviously the only living Inca (or "King" in Quechua)


    

Looking down on The Temple of The Sun

Alex, after deciding the only way those
 massive rocks could have been moved,
 was by aliens. 

Alex and one of the many llamas that call Machu Picchu home. 

Machu Picchu is perfectly situated
between two fault lines and, like the
one pictured above, many of the ruins
are paying the price. Locals say Machu
Picchu is "sinking." 

Incredible architecture and exquisite precision