The Inca Trail

So it was finally here, the trip we were both looking forward to but dreading. We were not doing the 'classic Inca trail' but walking an old Inca trail along the sacred valley otherwise known as the 'Pumahuanca trail'. The difference between the two is this trail is steeper, higher, longer, but more importantly passes through a few local communities that are known by the government to be some of the poorest people in Peru and we, through the tour agency, help to improve their daily lives.

Our group would be accompanied by 3 guides, a pack of llamas to carry equipment, a pack of horses to carry our clothing bags, a kitchen team and ground set up team. We of course carry our own daypacks and water, but even the feathery 10kg they weighed felt like another person strapped to our backs.

So day 1, starting off easy (not including trying to pack for this trip, a small 20l bag and trying to fit gear in for 4 days, all seasons). Early start and we head off to Sacsayhuaman Inca ruins. This is some of the finest Incan build work as it was a temple.

Although it was only 600yr ago that the Incas had their short reign before being wiped out by the Spanish, they managed to create an empire that ran from Peru to northern Chile with Cusco its rich centre. They created cities hidden in the hardest to reach places, modified geography so steep slopes could be farmed, understood the seasons and all without the invention of the wheel or any written language.

Sacsayhuaman Inca ruins is some of their finest build work, so much so, that when the Spanish arrived, they thought something so magnificent must have been made by the Devil and proceeded to destroy it.

It was clear to see the decorative bricks representing the 3 layers or lives they believed in and fascinating to imagine how they achieved it. The lower level or underworld represented by the snake, this life by the puma and the next life or upper world by the condor. One rock at the temple is estimated to weight 130 tonnes, moved from the quarry to its resting place by log/stone rollers, pure man force and a little prayer to Pachamama.

We then took a short drive to the next ruins, Pisac, located on a steep hillside. At the top of the town it was clear to see an old Incan cemetery. Bodies were put into a small cave in the hillside, in the fetal position, as they believed the way we enter life should be the way we exit. They are also buried with personal possessions, their pets and food as they believed in the afterlife and its thought you'd be hungry when you woke up again!

We then headed to the community of Quisharani at the start of our trail and the start of the sacred valley. We stayed in the local school field and had dinner in their classroom. The fact that we were in a classroom didn't go to waste as that evening there was a lesson in Quechuan, the traditional language spoken in this area. For some of us it was hard to understand the Spanish so that you could start to learn the Quechuan - it wasn't the most successful lesson, but funny to hear our western tongue trying to make completely foreign sounds.

This was day one, we knew it was a no walking day, they didn't explain that just walking round the ruins at that altitude would leave us gasping for air, we both fell asleep scared of the next day.

Day two was a 5.30am start. We were handed hot cocoa tea in the tent by the porters and on accepting mine I noted an ice layer on the outside of the tent. It was freezing; I had been all night, despite my thermals, clothes, sleeping bag and llama blanket. I emerged from the tent looking like the Michelin man; I couldn't fit anymore clothes on, including hats and gloves. The villagers just had ponchos on, with sandals - I got looks of 'crazy gringo lady'. Straight after a hearty brekkie we went to work on one of the community projects - helping to finish off a toilet block that could be used in future by other trekkers to bring in revenue. We were in charge of making and applying plaster, sanding doors and painting. Things were done traditionally so off came my shoes and socks, as I had surprisingly volunteered to help make the plaster. Soil, grass, water with cactus in as a thickener, and cement was mixed underfoot. It was cold, muddy and the stones in the soil made it painful but it was somewhat satisfying - in a childlike making a mess way. A couple of hours later and we were ready to start the walking, my thighs were aching, I was out of breath and my feet were sore already. Cue; bad mood, why have I paid money for this, I want a hot shower, bed, chocolate etc...

Within minutes I was loving it, maybe it was the fantastic views of the valley, exercise endorphins, or the huge ball of cocoa leaves I had stuck in my cheek, and either way this was going to be good. It has been mentioned already in the blog how Ollie and I are natural hikers, athletically built and keen for anything physically exerting. However, we were both in the leading group, keeping pace and enjoying it. Yeah, we had faces like beetroots and Ollie was so sweaty it looked like he'd been swimming - we were having fun. Each small hill climbed resulted in a smug celebration and amazing views, a little piece of chocolate (purely for energy) and more cocoa leaves (to keep us going). The 5 hours flew by and before long we had trekked our first day.

Arriving in camp mid afternoon, the Cuncani community welcomed us. We (that’s a lie, some of the group, we slept!) played football with the locals and we went and had afternoon tea with one of the locals. This was fascinating; the houses have one room, are stone built, and have a mud floor. Not one person didn't have to duck as we entered. Measuring approx 4m square, this acted as kitchen, bedroom, living room and also farm, as the guinea pigs eaten on special occasions live with the people in their house (I counted 7 sitting in a huddle just behind me). They keep up to one years food supply also in the same room in case the crops fail and really, apart from a few cooking pots and blankets, little else. The cooker is an open fire in one corner of the room but there is no chimney only looser thatch over that area. It was difficult to see each other through the smoke and dim light but the friendliness of the owners made it all worthwhile. We had hot cocoa tea and freshly boiled potatoes from their field as we chatted exploring the ins and outs of their daily life.

Day three, slowly waking with the realisation of where I was, I hesitated moving expecting after exercise stiffness, but surprised and relieved when I felt no pain. My legs, feet, in fact my whole body was ready for another day. Good job as this was our hardest treck, 8hr walk, mainly all uphill, reaching our highest point of 4800m. It wasn't easy but at our steady pace by no means hard and before long we were stood at the top clutching the rock we had picked up from the bottom of the mountain that morning. This is a Quechua tradition, you carry a rock from the bottom and make a small pile at the top as a tribute to Pachamama. The rock pile is first blessed with alcohol (pisco) then we all share a sip to thank Pachamama and to celebrate reaching today’s goal.

Some people were having a really hard time at this point, struggling with their breathing and sickness, two had already dropped out so we felt proud of our small personal achievement. We also knew from this point onwards it was flat or downhill all the way as we looked down the valley at our final destination just under the horizon.

The last camp was a bush camp, situated in the basin of a forested valley. Walking to it became quite amusing as a bull took a dislike to us. He proceeded to scare everyone to death as he started to charge, then after 3 steps decided he couldn't be bothered and just stood looking at 24 people trying to run with daypacks and jelly legs while trying to avoid cow pats.

The scenery was amazing and took everyones breath away as we sat down for our last group meal prepared by the kitchen team. We were offered hot sangria and sipped on the warm, sweet liquid as we stared in awe at the huge mountain and what we'd achieved.

Day four, no pain and a sense of excitement, only 4 hours more valley walk and we were done. The scenery had turned from rocky barren views to rich thick almost tropical forest. 37km and we had made it, intact, not one blister (thank you boots), no aches just good times and great memories.

We went to the nearby town of Urubamba to celebrate. If a house has a red flower or red sign outside it means you can go in, sit in the kitchen and buy Chicha off them. So we did. It’s a traditional drink made from sweet corn that is sprouted, boiled and fermented for two days. Yeah, you're right, it tastes rank, but the one mixed with strawberry is tolerable and there’s something nice about sharing homebrew with the house owners.

Short drive to the Inca town of Ollantaytambo to see the ruins and the amazing way they carved the opposite mountain to look like one of their gods. A good meal and celebratory wine in a local restaurant before heading to a hostel for my first shower in a week of trekking and a (warm) bed. We were both snoring by 6pm ready for our middle of the night start to Machu Picchu.