Machu Picchu

After much deliberation, and not a little influence from 'The Idiot Who Shall Be Nameless', we made the winding, precipitous journey from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu by coach. We could hardly believe that walking this circuitous distance would only take an hour and a half, but later discovered that the pedestrian route (although it was hardly that) was in fact more direct, consequently more vertical, and consisted almost entirely of steps. The three girls, all in their early 20s, that we had met at our 'briefing' the night before bore testament to this as they arrived sweating to meet our guide at 8am, having set off at 4.30am. They had however been forced to wait for over an hour along the route for the site to be opened. Despite not being in possession of all the relevant information in advance, we were very glad we made the decision that we did. Just walking around the multi-level site at Machu Picchu requires a reasonable level of fitness and our extra steep trek to the Sun Gate on a hot day (same height as Waynu Picchu with similarly spectacular views) was more than enough, even for Lesley who had already been training for a half-marathon around the mean streets of Cusco.

Our guide was excellent. A tour is essential. We would not have discovered all the main sections of the site or understood what the structures were without him. It is a large area to explore, although a recent trip to Sacsaywaman on the hill above Cusco revealed that Machu Picchu was only a small village compared to Sexy Woman. In fact, before most of it was robbed by the Spaniards to build the city of Cusco, it would apparently have been two thirds bigger than Machu Picchu which has only survived so completely because of its remoteness.

It is difficult to convey the drama and beauty of Machu Picchu. Unless you visit for yourself it is impossible to appreciate it fully. Even the photographs, which by the way, I am very pleased with, do not do the place justice. However, here are just a few of my observations:

The llamas and alpacas are the present day inhabitants of Machu Picchu, the original villagers having long since deserted. They walk through its ancient streets with a haughty air of ownership or they sit and admire the view in private contemplation, seemingly unfazed by the many visitors.

Talking of visitors, they are an eclectic bunch. There were families, with small children who needed to be carried, not an easy task with hills to climb at altitude; one small back pack was enough for me. There were elderly couples who needed the help of a stick to walk on the flat, never mind the ups and downs of Machu Picchu. There were the run of the mill groups of backpackers, two middle-aged English ladies, one Irishman and a man with a beard so large and ginger it outshone the pelt of the alpaca and cast a shadow on the sundial he walked beside. One photograph added below, shows a female visitor collapsed over the far side of a huge rock, arms outstretched, whilst her male partner leans gently against its near edge. I am still not sure whether they are awestruck rock huggers, prostrating themselves before the ancient Inca gods, or just exhausted.

Also worthy of a mention are the flowers and plants. Many varieties are unique to Machu Picchu; a book I bought in Cusco details every one. They are an exotic, stage-set foreground for the watercolour-painted backdrop of the mountains. In some views, the trees, already draped in vines, seem to be dripping with lilies and orchids. Purple climbers overrun others. The huge, grey-granite, head-shaped rocks are decorated with ruby coloured spider plants. Seemingly, no outcrop is left unadorned.

Oh, and the drop down to the river valley below turns your legs to jelly...Read more