El Camino Inka - Day 1

And so the long held dream began.  Trekking the 26 mile route which constitutes the world famous Inca Trail from Piscacucho to the mountain city of Machu Picchu.  Accompanying me were Pete from San Francisco, the Finnish girls Aurora and Liina, Boston born Zack and Dave, Peter from Sweden and Robert, a Canadian whose time on the trail was all too brief.  We were under the guidance of Roberto, a lively Peruano with an infectious laugh originally from the rainforest and Roxner, an equally affable younger guide.  The trip began at 6am from Cusco by bus from where we drove to the Sacred Valley, the excitement evident in the brisk chatter on the way.

Piscacucho is a nondescript little place known as 'Kilometre 82' named after the distance from Machu Picchu along the railway line that runs through the Sacred Valley alongside the Urubamba river.  From here the trail ascends gently from 2750msl to 3000msl - a net gain of only 250m in altitude.  Although this was just a gentle introduction, the trail did climb up before descending into the valley.  This gave us a chance to see the first of many ruins we would encounter.

Llaqtapata was named by Hiram Bingham, the American academic / explorer / politician who first made Machu Picchu known to the modern world a century ago in 1911.  He was led through the mountains by local farmers who provided him with knowledge and folklore of the Inca sites along the way.  When Bingham asked the name of these impressive ruins he was told in Quechua 'Llaqtapata' which translates as 'it's a town down there'.  The first of several names taken a bit too literally by the treasure hunter.  The ruins are a stunning collection of terraces, houses and defensive outposts running along the length of a giant serpent whose head is the Temple of the Sun and whose body forms the periphery of 'the town down there'.

Lunch was provided by the nine porters who were trekking alongside us.  They would race off up the trail, often with packs weighing more than themselves, to set up an amazing tent kitchen and dining room.  All in the group were to be repeatedly impressed by these incredible men without whom the trip would have been very different.  They provided us with veggie soup followed by stirfry and rice before packing up and racing off up the trail once more.  Trail etiquette requires you to give way to these human ants as they charge past by moving to one side of the path.  My pack was one of the largest in the group but these men were carrying double anything on my back and still moved more speedily.

The afternoon hike was a wonderful gentle ascent following the valley of the Cusichaca river to Wayllabamba where we set up our tents in the first of several simple but perfectly adequate campsites.  Our Canadian companion, Robert, became increasingly unwell as the day drew on.  A combination of an upset stomach and symptoms asscociated with altitude sickness forced him to reconsider his journey.  After some serious soul-searching he decided to turn back and head for Cusco.  A sadness descended on us all as he'd been planning to walk this trail for twenty years.  In his shoes I would have been devastated.

As well as operating a little shop which sold 1 litre beers for £2, the woman running the campsite also had a line in cuy.  Our Swedish contingent - although on an ayahuasca diet restricting salt, sugar and alcohol - was allowed to eat some meat and ordered a guinea pig.  Meat doesn't come much fresher than when you witness the cuy breeder dispatching the little rodent in front of you.  It was quickly prepared with skillful fingers before being grilled.  Whilst watching Peter eat the cuy wasn't particularly pleasant for anyone, Liina found it very tough given her long-term vegetarianism.  An early night ensued for the girls whilst the gents turned the dining tent into some kind of mining town cantina, drinking cervezas and telling dirty jokes late into the night... well, about half nine at least.