Hiking up to Machu Picchu

November 23, 2013

El Tuco Hotel, Cusco

We returned to Cusco today, making the train and collectivo trip in reverse, and already yesterday's wonderful excursion into a distant past seems like a dream, fading into the mist that so often envelops the mystical place called Machu Picchu ('Old Mountain').

Yesterday morning we left our hostel shortly after five to hike up to Machu Picchu. A surprising amount of people were up and about at this early hour, vendors opening their shops, men and women jogging around the soccer field or on their way to work. We passed the bus stop on the way downhill: several busses were waiting already, and tourists were lined up to get in. We had decided to walk instead: we had all day, after all. 

We followed the road for about three kilometres, just early enough that only a few busses passed us: the gates open at six, and there is not much point in being there before. The road runs parallel to the river, its voice ever present, sometimes rising to a roar when its bed is narrowed even more by huge boulders. Fog was rising between the mountains, veiling the river in the distance. Bird voices sounded from trees and shrubbery, and butterflies hovered over blooming vines. It had rained during the night, and the road was still a bit muddy, but the temperature was pleasant.

Before crossing the river after about half an hour of walking we had to show our tickets and passports to a guard in a booth and were waved on. Soon after the road started climbing. Thankfully, we didn't have to share it with the busses much longer: soon an arrow pointed to the left, and we turned off the road to follow the stairway into the dense forest. 

Now the real climb began! For almost two kilometres we walked up the uneven stone steps through vegetation dripping with moisture. For me, it was paradise: ferns and mosses, vines and blooms and huge-leafed trees – this will be as much a part of my memories of Machu Picchu as the site itself. From time to time a gap in the vegetation allowed a view of the surrounding steep mountains, shreds of clouds drifting between them, rising, then descending again. With the high humidity and rising temperatures we were soon dripping as much as the trees beside us.

Once, a familiar flight pattern right beside me caught my eye: a hummingbird hovered briefly before landing on a branch only a couple of metres from us. It wasn't in the least bit concerned about our presence, and we realized it had landed on its nest. At first I thought the rhythmic up and down movement of its beak meant it was feeding its brood, but it soon became apparent that it was still busy constructing its nest. Fascinated, I watched it fly off, come back a short time later, and - invisible to my eyes - afix more material to the nest. 

 

Every once in awhile our path crossed the bus road, but for the most part we were totally immersed in green. Only the regular rumble of busses up the road reminded us of what would likely await us once we reached the top. We stopped at a small thatch-roofed shelter to eat a bun and some cheese and one of the delicious small bananas called 'oritos' in Ecuador, and not much later we emerged at the entrance to Machu Picchu Reserve where busses were diverging their loads. Already people were lined up to get inside, and once again we had to show our ticket and passport. 

First glimpse of terraces about three quarters up

And then it lay before us, shrouded in mist, surrounded by mountains, a place from another time: Machu Picchu.