As the train rumbled from Cusco towards Machu Picchu, the terrain grew more tropical. We passed through a valley alongside a river and through increasingly drammatic mountains. Anticipation was high when we glided into the station in Aguascalientes at the base of the ancient ruin.                 

Cusco:

“Bonita mujer de mi corazon” (beautiful women of my heart). Efrain our Cusceño taxi driver translated the words from Quechua, smiling at us in the rear-view mirror. As we made our way from the airport to the city centre after our sunrise flight from Lima, we learned several other local phrases. Before long we arrived early at the Marriot Convent Hotel in Cusco. The hotel was built in and around a 16th century convent to spectacular effect.   

By the reception desk we stuffed cups full of coca leaves and steaming hot water to fend off the altitude sickness that awaits visitors to the ancient colonial and Incan capital at 3,400 meters. Accordingly, the pace was slow on our first day in Cusco.  

To start, we sat on the steps of the Cathedral and watched a Sunday parade. As participants marched by, the Hymn of Cusco filled the Plaza Mayor. Next we wandered under the Arch of Santa Clara and posed for photos. Nearby, we admired the enormous door at the entrance to the San Fransisco Church. After pausing for a Sopa de Chairo lunch, we worked our way through the San Pedro Market. A bustling place, we wandered cheerfully past bright flowers, black corn,  and (with a lingering thought for my childhood pet) roasted cuy (guinea pig). 

Later we wandered slowly through the narrow streets of San Blas, past colourfully painted blue and yellow doors marking a striking contrast with the stone walls. Out of breath from the altitude and frequent encounters with lengthy stair sets, we paused for a hot drink and happy conversation.   

The Train:

The air was crisp as we made our way out of the hotel at dawn on our second day. Standing on the sidewalk I inhaled deeply, savouring the smell of wood fires as I dutifully continued my regimen of coca leaf tea. It was just after 5:00 am on a November morning in Cusco. As our taxi arrived, the ancient stone walls of the buildings nearby were still lingering in darkness. The sun had not yet risen as we pulled up to Poroy Station.   

During a short wait at the station we started working on the breakfast packed for us at the hotel. Soon, I was handing the sharply dressed train attendants my ticket. We bought them online ahead of time and had picked them up at the PeruRail stand at the airport on arrival to Cusco. The train was brightly lit, with large windows on both sides and in the roof. The sun danced on our faces as we passed out of Cusco. 

During the first part of the journey we glided past small farms and communities that huddled between the train track and the mountain.  At one point the train entered a switch back section of track as we descended 40 meters in 5 km. After stopping to pick up more passengers along the river at Ollantaytambo Station, the landscape shifted. We entered a narrow valley with lush green mountains towering over us on either side. We swapped smiles and shared our excitement with the Nicaraguan women seated across from us. 

Aguascalientes:

After about 3-hours on the train, we arrived to Aguascalientes just before 10am. We filed out of the station through an artisan market and onto the main street of the town. Aguascalientes is a small settlement at the meeting point of the Aguascalientes, Alcamayo, and Urubamba Rivers. We passed by the imposing statues of the famous Inca’s, strong and proud, to buy tickets to enter Machu Picchu. I tucked the tickets into my backpack, and tightened the straps. Then, waving away offers to purchase bus tickets to take us to the top in 20 minutes, we passed through the town again, over the bridge and made our way down some stairs to the river. 

The Hike:

We followed the dirt road along the river for a while, carving our way deeper into the valley. Flat for about 30 minutes, this should have been the easy bit of the hike. Unfortunately, every 2 or 3 minutes one of the buses we had foregone in favour of the walk whizzed by at harrowingly close range. We were happy to arrive to a narrow bridge where we flashed our entrance tickets to an attendant and crossed to the other side of the river.

The trail cut upwards across the switch back road and its enthusiastic bus drivers. We followed tiny green arrows and made our way up stone steps jutting out of the wall every time we crossed. In between, we hiked up a fairly steep slope under the overhanging foliage. The hike reminded me of the Grouse Grind on Vancouver’s North shore. But every now and again we’d round a bend and I’d re-orient myself.  We paused at these moments to take in the breathtaking view back down towards the river and up at the distinctive towering peaks of Machu Picchu. Energized by these periodic glimpses, we persevered and arrived with drenched t-shirts and empty water bottles after a little over an hour.  

Machu Picchu:

It is a strange feeling arriving somewhere you’ve never been but that you have seen your whole life.  I used to muck around in dried up ditches next to the streets where I grew up, playing make-believe with my friends that we were off on a great adventure to places like this. Now here I was, more than 8,000 km from home and 2,500 m above the level of the sea, peering through a 500 year-old doorway at the famous peak of Huayna Picchu. 

The History:

No one is sure exactly what Machu Picchu was. One theory holds that the site was built as an estate by Pachacutec Inca (1438 – 71) and Tupac Inca (1472 – 93). It sits on a flattened space between two mountains, Machu Picchu and Huayna Picchu. All around, the ruins of buildings are surrounded by terraces where potatoes and corn could have been grown. It is believed that up to 750 people might have lived in this breathtaking setting for about 80 years. It was never discovered by the Spanish conquistadors. Indeed, Machu Picchu was unknown to the wider world until a farmer led the American lecturer (and native of Hawaii) from Yale, Henry Bringham III, to it in 1911. 

The Inca Road:

After our initial look around, we climbed up some steps and sat by a terraced field. Digging in our backpacks we pulled out some snacks. The hike up had taken longer than expected so we enjoyed the rest and the view, chatting with passersby every now and again. Impressed by the sturdy hiking boots and large camera lens of one such person, we asked advice. She clearly came prepared for the site and must be well-informed. We learned that it was too late that day to hike up either the Machu Picchu or Huayna Picchu mountains, but that we should check out the Inca Road. So off we went.  

The Inca Road is a narrow path that hugs the sheer cliff on one side. Meanwhile, on the other side there is an adrenaline inducing plummet into the valley below. Our sturdy-booted peer commented that the road was an ancient second entrance built to facilitate the secret movement of the Incan army into the city. Enthralled, we followed the road until it disappeared in the now over-grown vegetation. 

Llamas:

Returning from the Inca Road, we spent some time mingling with the current residents of Machu Picchu, Llamas. These intelligent social animals were a pleasure to be arround. Oozing with personality and with faces full of character, we happily passed half-an-hour with these sturdy high-altitude creatures. We took our leave when a pair started mating nearby, and left the others to continue their search for the tastiest bit of grass. We slowly walked back to the entrance, savouring the plunging views into the valley while we brushing our hands against the ancient stones of the Inca’s magnificent city. 

A Final Thought:

People get to Machu Picchu in different ways.  I made it there on my fifth trip to Peru in a whirlwind from Costa Rica to Bogota to Lima to Cusco to Macchu Picchu. My journey was full of early mornings and late nights that added to the dream-like experience.  From the cobbled streets of Cusco to the cloud-shrouded heights of Machu Picchu, the journey left an indelible mark during my ceaseless pursuit.