Travel with imagination: As the Old Spanish proverb puts it - "He who would bring home the wealth of the Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies with him."
October 13, 2013
It was inevitable. After two weeks of nice weather (we just won't count those little episodes of hail), it had to rain on us today. No, not rain. Pour.
In and of itself, this was unpleasant, but not a big deal. I was prepared for inclement weather. My rain gear and fleece pullover had been in my backpack since the beginning of the trek, largely unused. However, our descent to 7,000 feet meant that temperature had risen accordingly. There was no need for hot water bottles at Lucma Lodge. When the heavens opened, I pulled on my raincoat, but it quickly became apparent that I was going to be just as wet from sweat as I would be from the rain. I do not like hiking in a portable sauna. I decided I'd just go for it in my hiking skort and tank top.
By the time we reached our high point of the day, Llactapata Pass, after hiking up about 1,600 feet, I was soaked through. I can honestly say I have never been so wet while fully clothed. Just as I started descending on the other side of the pass, I was literally sloshing in my boots, and I hadn't stepped in any deep water. Needless to say, pictures from the morning do not exist. We passed the ruins of Llactapata at the pass, but all I remember is more walls made from giant stones.
We were supposed to have our first peek at Machu Picchu from the lunch stop. Thick clouds hid all but a glimpse of the mountain's peak from view. At that point, I was more concerned about the fact that I was soaking wet and no longer moving. Getting dry was not an option, but I was thrilled to find an unused woven tablecloth that I could wrap around me like a shawl to hold off shivers. I felt a little ridiculous being so wet, but apparently my "toughness" was enough to earn me a place on Janet and Mary's dream Survivor team. I do what I can to please.
We continued downhill after lunch. The rain stopped in short order, but the steep trail was running with mud. Even with my hiking poles I slipped and fell once, a quick drop and bounce back up. Just enough to muddy my skirt, but not hurt me. I wasn't alone; I think over half the group fell at some point. I loved my camera enough to keep it stowed away until we reached level ground where the trail crossed the Aobamba River.
What fun! We got to cross a suspension bridge. Oh, joy! I really don't like suspension bridges. I've only been on a few, but they've all been wobbly and bouncy enough to make me very nervous. Happily, this one was very well tensioned - not at all what I was expecting. It was almost disappointing in its stability.
After the bridge, our hike continued another couple of miles down a gravel road. Many in the group took the opportunity to fly ahead, but I once again insisted that I hadn't come to Peru to race through it. It wasn't like we were at risk of missing the train to Aguas Calientes, after all.
We passed by an old fish farm of some sort. It looked like it hadn't been used in years. I thought it was interesting to see that the design was not unlike that of salmon hatcheries here in Alaska, although none of our are built of stone walls.
Just past the fish farm was the most amazing waterfall we'd seen in Peru. Silver watched us all ooh and ahh and take pictures before he finally smirked and told us that it was from an outfall pipe from the hydroelectric plant on the other side of the hill. I never did quite get how the whole place was configured to create a waterfall in that location, but there it was. It was gorgeous, nonetheless.
Most trekkers to Machu Picchu catch the train at the local hydroelectric plant (la hidroelectrica) for the last stretch into Aguas Calientes. Technically, you can walk along the train tracks, but I don't think it would be much fun, and would probably take at least an extra day or two. After walking through the plant grounds, we had to present our passports at a checkpoint before continuing on to the train station itself. I think a few of my friends thought it was odd that we could just walk freely through an industrial complex. There was certainly no OSHA involved.
We had just enough time for a few beers and ice creams before we had to board the train. Thirty minutes later, we were in Aguas Calientes, less than four miles from Machu Picchu. The name refers to the presence of hot springs in the area, although I did not see them. Historically, the area was home to just a couple of farming families. When Hiram Bingham III "discovered" Machu Picchu in 1911, locals were using the site for fields and animal grazing. Since then, the Peruvian government has developed the site as a travel destination, and the farms grew into a bustling little town of about 1,600 residents. I'm sure that on any given day, there are thousands and thousands of tourists staying there. I didn't get to see much of it, but quaint seemed to be a good descriptor. It was, however, the only place I'd been where t-shirts were for sale. If you were looking for tourist crap, this was the place to buy it.
A couple of evenings earlier, Silver had talked about what we could expect in Aguas Calientes (we sadly left our beautiful lodges behind for a plain old hotel) and Machu Picchu. I don't think I was the only one who was a bit startled by the conversation. Every day of our trip had been so unique and fabulous that I'd completely forgotten we had a goal, a destination we were trying to reach. I almost - almost - didn't care about Machu Picchu itself. Even if I never got there, I would still have had a wonderful trip. Machu Picchu was just icing on a delicious chocolate cake.
