So here we are again dear readers at the start of another instalment of my adventures. Incredibly there is still a quantity of this tale to tell. A tale that may this time begin with the end of the Inca Trail but this is not the end of the adventure, oh no, there's more.
It was with views of mountains bathed in the warm early evening light that I left you last time and from the Winaywayna ruins Per, myself and our guide wandered back to the camp (past the busy and somewhat chaotic outdoor cooking area shared by all the porters from all the groups) to have our pre-dinner hot drinks and snacks in our food tent. Because this particular camping ground was both the busiest so far and the steepest, every bit of spare level(ish) ground was used. Our dinner tent was backed up against a wall leaving only just enough room on the other side for people to pass on the path. My tent had been set up on a tiny (and incredibly uneven) scrap of land next to a pylon a little way away from the rest of my group. We were all to camp within a few meters of the camps main building which housed the showers, dining room (for people without porters) and bar, which made it rather a noisy place to be although it did at least shut at a reasonable hour. But wait, I am getting ahead of myself, before we went to our tents for our final night on the trail we had our final dinner. The dinner was of the standard we had come to expect and after this came our chance to give a tip to our porters. Nothing remarkable about that you may think and indeed there isn't but it meant we got to meet them all at once. All along the trail we had of course seen them about but I had no idea just how many of them had been helping us along. There were only six of us (plus our guide) and there were ten of them (including the cook). Whilst its true that had our group been larger we wouldn't have needed many more it still seemed amazing that so many had been needed. That said I can only praise the job they did as not only was the food excellent but the whole experience couldn't have run smoother.
Anyway with the dinner done with it was a reasonably early night as we were to be woken the next morning at 4am for breakfast so we would be ready to set off at five. At that time in the morning it is of course still very dark and a bit on the chilly side too. Looking around the table at the others it was a bit like I was breakfasting with the un-dead, three days of trekking and poor sleep had taken a certain toll, I expect I looked at least as bad but luckily there were no mirrors around. With breakfast finished we said goodbye to our porters for the last time and set off to the checkpoint where we waited with loads of other people until it opened at 5am. We proceeded by torch light along a narrow and treacherous stone path made slippery by rain during the night. It was a sombre and largely silent procession with a steep mountainous wall to one side and an equally steep drop on the other. As we turned a corner I cast my eye back at the path behind me to see a winding line of glittering lights bobbing along behind the trees a bit like the seven dwarves going to work. Down in the valley the electric glare of Aguas Calientes went some way towards spoiling the feeling of having walked to a remote and sacred place - oh well. By 5:45 my torch became worthless in the half-light before the dawn, we marched on for another hour or so before coming to a very steep set of steps leading up to the 'Sun Gate'. This small stone construction is so called as at dawn on the solstice the sun shines directly between two pillars and then through the tiny window of the Sun Temple (some hundreds of meters away) at the heart of Machu Picchu. It wasn't the solstice that day nor was it sunny. What this tells you however is that from the high vantage point of the Sun Gate we got our first distant look at Machu Picchu, the crumbling grey jewel of the Andes. Through the slight haziness of the morning air it was indistinct and blended into the mountainside to some extent. Some people would wait here for the sun to come over the mountain and illuminate it but I couldn't see it happening that day so I set off to see it up close.
A mere twenty minutes later and I was there, after all that time and effort I was finally there. It was all slightly unreal standing in the spot from which the 'classic' Machu photo it taken, more like I had walked into a picture than was really there. Anyway soon enough our guide was showing us around and doing a typically Peruvian job of explaining what little was known in a curiously self repeating style. We saw many features of Inca civilisation that we were already familiar with only here there were more of them and they were bigger and better. Of course there were terraces, living quarters, work areas, temples including the Sun Temple, various sacred rocks and courtyards and gardens. I have to say that although our guide did everything a guide should I really just waned him to hurry up and finish so I could go exploring on my own. When he did finally finish we were left standing at the opposite end of the site to where we had entered. Here we were stood in the shadow of the same steep rocky pinnacle that had shielded Machu from our eyes the day before. As a parting word our guide told us that should we wish to we could climb it and see the ruins at the top and more importantly the views down on Machu from the other side. It was clear that he had absolutely no intention of going anywhere near it himself and it shortly became clear that no one else had either, the look on his face when I said I wanted to go was initially surprise but when he realised I wasn't joking he looked kind of disappointed. I quickly noted down the details of where to meet the others afterwards and then set off to the hut at the start of the path to sign myself onto the track. I had been told that an ordinarily fit person should get to the top in about 45 minutes, a less fit person perhaps an hour.
Setting off I soon passed the level bit at the beginning and arrived at the start of the very steep steps that ran all the way to the top. At many places along the way there were ropes or chains bolted to the cliff to give you something to hold onto. I'm not sure exactly when it happened nor why, perhaps four days walking and camping had affected me or perhaps it was temporary insanity I don't know. I noticed as I began to climb that I seemed to be speeding up. I didn't set out with any idea of racing myself to the top but somehow that's what I had begun to do, and having started it would have been a pity to stop. The only rest I took on the way up was at a tight bend where I caught up with some other people and had to wait to get past them. The day had started to warm up and I was hot and thirsty but I kept on going, it had become a mission that I may never had undertaken if I hadn't had to write down the time I started when I signed in. Without that knowledge I wouldn't have known how long it was taking me. It just kept on going up and up and up and round the mountain. I passed through a small roofless Inca building and then on up steps through high terraces. The final scramble up uncut rocks to the very top was the only other place on the way up I encountered other people. At the top there were perhaps seven or eight people all sat panting and staring at the 360 degree views. I sat down and tried to get my breath back as I checked my watch, I may have been completely knackered but my time of just twenty six minutes seemed to make it worthwhile. I sat there only long enough to recover before setting off on the twenty four minute return journey.
Having got back down I set about exploring the parts of Machu that our guide had left out. It was great fun to wander about in the maze of ruins discovering something different at every turn. During all this time however I never once caught sight of any of the rest of my group. I learned the reason why when I left the site and wandered down to the café. This being a source of beer and chips I should perhaps have expected to find them here and having done so I partook of much needed beer and chips myself before we all got the bus down to Aguas Calientes. The rest of the day was gently idled away in the bustling tourist markets of the town before a very scenic train ride (the train had a glass edged roof so you could gaze up at the mountain tops) back to Ollantaytambo. From here it was a mini-van ride back to our Cusco hotel where I got to have my first shower in four days (a hot one!) and the luxury not only of a real bed but also a generously late 8:45am breakfast. It was to be a day of gentle wanderings, cafes, a visit to the 'Museo Inca' (Inca museum) to fill in the gaps in our understanding of Inca history and even more souvenir shopping. The day ended with a visit to another one of Stephan's favourite restaurants. This place was called 'Fallen Angel' and was decorated with large cherubs and barb wire roses. The tables were glass topped iron bath tubs in which goldfish swam. Fortunately the food wasn't quite as designer in nature and was in fact perfectly good although nothing remarkable. After dinner all but Stephan and I went back to the hotel while we stayed on at the bar to wash away the aches of the trail.
After the 6:30am breakfast the next morning we were off to Cusco bus station. It was goodbye to Cusco (for the final time) and hello seven hour bus journey in the 1st class compartment that seemed to be part of the baggage hold which had been converted to take large seats. As we progressed the landscape got flatter and flatter and the highland plain got wider as the encircling mountains moved further away. It was dry grassy land with very few animals and settlements until we got close to our destination town of Puno. Puno is the capital of its department and lies at over 3800m, it is a bit of a seedy place in my opinion and there was a more noticeable police presence than I had seen elsewhere which combined with the high proportion of tatty unfinished buildings made for a less comfortable experience than Cusco had offered and it also smelled worse. So why come to such a place? Well the reason for going there (and for the smell) was that Puno is the main town on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca which only smells near to Puno as the locals use it as an open sewer. Fortunately the lake is in the region of 8000sq km in area so we would be able to escape the smell without too much trouble. The lake is also supposedly the highest navigable lake in the world although this title is contested by other countries who claim they have higher navigable lakes - you wouldn't have thought it would be too difficult to find out for certain so perhaps they just like arguing. Anyway, we wouldn't be heading for the lake until the next morning before which we had time to explore the town discovering in a plaza along the way the worst topiary bushes I have ever seen.
That night I dined on 'Alpaca Saltado' in one of Puno's many restaurants on the floor of which were scattered metal pots of flames which were both decorative and hazardous. The next morning we again left our non-essentials in the keeping of our hotel and set off for the harbour in human powered 'bicycle taxi's'. As we were spread among four of these taxi's we encouraged them to race each other through the crowded streets which was amusing for us but they arrived rather out of breath (and they still had a days work ahead of them). We were not to be the only group on our boat as there weren't enough of us to fill it and while we waited for everyone to arrive a local boy turned up busking on the panpipes (which sounded awful in keeping with the Peruvian style) and another local instrument that resembles a small banjo type thing, only the main part of it was made of a hollowed out armadillo. Fortunately someone paid him to go away and shortly afterwards we were on our way, the smelly green algae covered waters petered out and soon we were approaching the vast reed beds that populate this shallow part of the lake. It is not only reed beds that populate the area as there were people living out here too. Our first stop of the day was to be on one of the tiny islands that they live on. These were no ordinary islands though as these were the 'Uros Islands' which float on account of them being made of reeds. The feeling underfoot was odd - kind of squashy but quite dry. Apparently the islands are several meters thick and as the reeds slowly decay new reeds need to be laid on the top to maintain the surface. As the islands are afloat they can be moved if needs be (if the lake level drops too low) but normally they are anchored to the bottom which isn't all that deep. After a brief talk explaining the life of the islanders to us and how they came to be there we got into a reed boat with an animals face (made of more reeds) at the front. This was propelled to a neighbouring island by a woman with a single paddle which she waggled at the back, a method that was much more effective than it sounds.
Having experienced the Uros Islands it was back into the motor boat for a three hour ride on calm waters, it was a beautiful day and it was nice to just sit and stare about. It was also nice to be travelling on the flat for once. Our next and last port of call for the day was a conventional island called 'Isla Amantani' where we would be spending the night. There are no hotels on the island nor anything similar and we had already done all the camping we would be doing on the trip so where would we be staying? Well, upon arriving we were all divided into groups of three (I was with Helen and Per) and each small group was assigned to one of the islands women. She led us on dirt tracks (there are no cars or roads on the island either) through rural land to her families mud-brick house. It should be noted that the inhabitants on this island and a neighbouring island speak Quechua where as all the other indigenous folk in the Lake Titicaca region speak Aymara. This fact is perhaps skirting the real issue that faced us at this time as none of us spoke either language and the islanders knew next to no Spanish (which wouldn't have helped much anyway) and absolutely no English. On the boat over our Aymara speaking captain had issued us all with a small photocopied Quechua phrase sheet which later on would prove to be very little help.
Anyway, having been shown to our basic but perfectly decent rooms we had a bit of time to kill before lunch. There isn't a great deal for a stranger to the island to do to kill a spare hour so we just sort of wandered about outside in the sunshine and looked around. In one direction we could of course see the lake which is so long that from one end you can't see the other making it seem more like the sea than a lake. Whilst we were idling the time away a local man (who was actually the man of the house we were staying in) was hard at work. A little further up the hill there was a field full of recently made mud bricks which had been left out to dry in the sun. The man was in the process of moving them to the patch of land directly behind the house to at some future point use them to build an extension with. To help him move them however he had no machinery, not so much as a wheelbarrow, instead he would place two bricks onto a column of other bricks then put a bit of cloth around them. Then he turned his back to them and gripping the ends of the cloth held them to his back whilst he lent forward to tip them off the column onto his back so he could carry them down to the other field. Helen decided that us men couldn't just stand there watching him so she told us both to carry one down for him. Well we only tried carrying one at a time and we had no cloth to try his method so we just picked them up. I don't know why I was surprised that they were so heavy, perhaps because the man had made it look relatively easy but these 'bricks' were about ten to twelve inches square and about four or five inches thick and completely solid - I am amazed that man can still walk. Fortunately after this it was lunch. Lunch was served in the kitchen, a small mud hut with a wood stove on the floor at one end and some low benches around the sides. There were no lights inside so apart from the light coming through the door and the fire it was pretty gloomy and smelled of wood smoke. Lunch was some rather nice vegetable soup followed by locally caught trout served with three types of local potatoes none of which I had seen before. After this we were issued with pointy woollen hats with ear flaps to wear and were escorted by one of the families children up hill to watch/play football. Unfortunately as we walked the sky darkened and soon afterwards it began to hail pretty hard. We took shelter until it passed and then some of the locals and some (mad) gringos set about playing football at almost 4000m, a game which the locals did win but not as easily as I had expected.
Football wasn't to be the only activity on the island as later that evening we would all be taken to the village hall for a traditional local party (type thing). Before this was dinner which was again in the small kitchen hut but this time with the whole of the family. The food was again good although this time the potatoes were small round black ones that in the dim candle light looked black inside as well as out and tasted of very little. Afterwards we all had a go at communication but despite everyone's efforts we didn't get too far, although having said that for a first try I don't suppose we did all that badly. We couldn't spend all night trying to talk though as there were preparations to be made before the nights activities. In order to fit in at the party we had to dress up in traditional clothes. For the women this meant wide multi-layer skirts, decorated blouses and black headscarves and for us men it meant huge heavy (and very warm) ponchos and the silly hats again. Once deemed ready by our hosts we grabbed our torches (the only power on the island comes from solar panels so there isn't enough juice for streetlights - not that there are really any streets either) and set off through the fields to the village hall. By the time we got there (and met up with Simon Sandy and Stephan) the place was already pretty full and the musicians were belting out some local favourites. I sat down with the others but none of us wee allowed to remain sitting for long, this was no spectator event, oh no, if you were there then you were going to dance and there were plenty of old women about to make sure you did. Fortunately the dance we were all to do wasn't too complicated, it started with people dancing in pairs (holding hands the whole time - perhaps to stop you escaping) then as the dance progressed pairs of people joined others to form larger circles which in time merged with other circles and so on until eventually everyone in the room was joined together. Long before this stage however the circle became too big to remain circular and so the line of people snaked and wound around the room. All the while the band played and seemed to get faster as they did, until at some unexpected point the song would end and the dancers would disperse again. After a short rest the other band would take their turn and the whole business would start again. After a seemingly short time our local woman appeared ready for us to go, which seemed a bit early to me but then during the high season these people do this every night so I suppose it loses its shine after a while.
The next morning after a wonderfully quiet night it was time to say goodbye to the family and head back to the boat. Of all the things on this trip this was the only one that I had been slightly daunted by before doing it but I am glad I did. It was an excellent experience and whilst I know that much of what we saw was put on for us tourists I still felt I had experienced a bit of their culture.
Back on the boat we headed for the neighbouring (and more touristy) 'Isla Taquile' where we were to have a little walk from the harbour on one side to the harbour on the other. It was a gorgeous day and the views were spectacular. After this it was another three hours in the boat back to smelly old Puno to be faced with the beginning of the end. That night was to be the last dinner together and the next morning we got up early to say goodbye to Helen and Per. The tour we were on technically ended back in Lima but they were travelling on to Bolivia and so were getting a plane to La Paz which left just the four of us. We too were going to the airport that day but not until several hours later so I went back to bed. When at last we were in the mini-van Simon asked me if I thought I would be coming back to Peru. Well Peru is a big place and I only visited the Andes, Peru is also home to the worlds driest desert and two thirds of it is covered in jungle. There are many more things to see and do and I had enjoyed my time there but I must confess that I felt then (and still do) that although I would be glad to return one day it will be a very long time before I do. The rest of the world beacons.
The views from the plane on the flight were tremendous. There are so many mountains it is no wonder it took us three weeks to drive from Lima to Puno and less than two hours to fly back. Once back in Lima the group essentially stopped being, as Simon and Sandy were to fly out that night they elected to hang about the airport for a several hours rather than come back into town. So it was just Stephan and I who took the mini-van back to the Hostal Gemina.
And so it ended. I was leaving the next afternoon which left me with a few unremarkable hours to waste in Lima before getting a taxi to the airport. I had originally intended to relate to you all the story of my return journey but feel that these tales have turned out to be so much longer than I had planned that I will just skip it and hope no one minds. Needless to say I got home fine having been sent to 'The Room' in both Peru and America (and I am still completely unaware as to why) and completed my door-to-door trip by walking home from the station.
Well, that about wraps things up. Except of course to thank you all for reading what has turned out to be a longer journey in words than it was in life and also thanks to those who have offered comments and feedback (and criticism). As ever I doubt I will be able to stay put for too long although I must say I am rather at a loss as to which place to explore next. I am sure I will think of something and when I do should I write about it, you, my readers, will be amongst the first to know.
Until I then I shall leave you to get on with your own adventures.
David.