Posts Tagged ‘peru’

South America Catchup post #1: Lima, Peru

As promised I am going to fling up some more images from the end of my trip for your delectation today. The first stop is Lima, Peru, where I passed a brief period of a day and a half in between Cusco and Buenos Aires.

It was a jarring experience, after 5 weeks in the cold, damp, oxygen-starved mountains, to land in Lima and drive in from the airport through the ancient port town of Callao, now consisting of alternating shanty towns and massive retail parks of Toys'R'Us, Wal-Mart, Starbucks and TGI Fridays that could have been in Texas, but for some reason the coastal desert setting, and the griminess of the vacant lots and sand-blown boulevards of the outskirts reminded me much more of Saudi Arabia. And it was bloody hot, I mean summertime hot.

I spent most of my time in Miraflores, a posh suburb to the south of the city centre which contains a lovely central park (Parque Kennedy) and a heaping helping of tasty restaurants, cafés (I enjoyed Café Z greatly), and bars. I ate a ridiculous lunch at a restaurant specialising in lomo saltado, usually strips of cheap flank steak sautéed with peppers and onions, but in this case (posh, remember) the beef was juicy chunks of filet mignon and premium fresh veggies, half out in the open as per normal, and half encased in a delicious buttery pastry which was otherwise filled with melted cheese. Paramedics were standing by with the paddles, or perhaps I hallucinated that last. In any case wandering around Miraflores was lovely, everyone with a midsummer spring in their step, and kids in board shorts freshly arrived from the beach. I enjoyed walking down to the Pacific Ocean, where there was a swish shopping centre called LarcoMar built into the top of the cliffs.

In the morning I went on a city tour which was as combination of bus tour and walking. I didn't think much of this tour, though whether this was down to the package tourists making up the rest of the tour, or the somewhat poor quality of the tour itself, or the fact that we were touring the squalid, twentieth-century-reconstruction of the main square, I can't tell.

I was definitely not feeling the love when the elderly American cruise ship tourist / outpatient asked the guide in a loud, midwestern twang, audible from space, "IS THAT A CHURCH???" when stood in front of the building in the image directly below:

Later that day it was back to Miraflores where I made a beeline for the lovely El Kapallaq restaurant, a Lima institution, for a bit of the famous ceviche, or raw fish "cooked" in lime juice, mixed in with onions and spices. In my case it was the specialty of the house, a delicious combination of ceviche served with white beans on one side and roasted corn kernels on the other. An odd combination but it really worked. What blew my mind afterwards was a pan-fried chunky filet of the fish of the day, whose name I did not catch but which could have been bream. It was light (fell apart on the fork) and was the perfect kind of savoury, lemon butteriness. Yum. I took a shot of the sign they had on the wall, which had a shark's jaws and the words "the way to the heart is through the stomach". Perfect.

Finally it was time to catch the overnight plane to Buenos Aires, for the last few days of the trip. More on that in the next post….

Photos from Cusco including rain damage

I just realised the other day that while I had stuck a bunch of photos up on Flickr at various points from Cusco, I had never actually posted any of them in a blog entry. Well, here goes. 

Plaza de Armas – the main square at the heart of the city. To get from anywhere to anywhere else in Cusco inevitably involves traversing this square, with the smart move being to walk through the square itself rather than along the colonnades at the sides, infested with persistent restaurant and massage touts. But it’s all worth it for views of the Cathedral, the church of the Society of Jesus, the fountains, and the colonial balconies teeming with restaurants and bars.

Water damage – While I was in Cusco, as regular readers are well aware, it rained like it was going out of style and caused all manner of problems in the city and the surrounding area, washing out bridges and trapping people in Machu Picchu. Typical of the scenes around Cusco were this collapsed shop – fortunately, nobody was killed – other buildings being braced up with wooden beams, and very typical scenes of utterly rained-out streets. 

Sacsayhuaman – This largish Incan religious complex is on a hill overlooking central Cusco, and is accessible by a breathless walk up a street and a trail. I really enjoyed the Imperial-style stonework (massive 50-ton rocks fit together with millimetre precision and no mortar) and mostly enjoyed my time up there, bar the persistent guides/touts who kept intercepting me throughout the site, and the one local on the top of the hill who walked up and asked me what I knew about Scientology. I told him where to stick it.

Qorincancha (AKA San Domingo) – The Incas built a temple complex including a Temple of the Sun and a Temple of the Moon near the centre of town. When the Conquistadores arrived, they built a Dominican church on the Inca foundations. An earthquake in the 1950s destroyed the church but left the Incan foundations intact. In the gardens outside I saw a black bumblebee with blue wings, a new one for me.

Nightlife – Since it rained a lot, and I ended up spending more time in Cusco than planned, I got to know a few of the night spots – and the inhabitants – pretty well. Highlights were KM 0 in San Blas (always a fun night of live music), Indigo behind the main square (really friendly staff and fantastic Massaman curry), and the time I was randomly invited to join in on a Quechua birthday party in a bodega. I also really enjoyed the food in Fallen Angel, and Macondo, and of course Indigo. But I think I’ll steer clear of guinea pig (cuy) in future as it was simply too much hard work for little morsels of meat which, in the end, weren’t that tasty. 

Although I am glad to be out of Cusco (and boy, Lima and then Buenos Aires successively are a real shock to the system) I am also glad of the time I spent there and the opportunity to get to know the place and some of the people there. On the whole, I found the people (both local and otherwise) to be very friendly and helpful, especially in comparison to Lima, where I found the opposite. But more on that later…

Just had to share this sunset image from Lima tonight

Just a quick one – I will do a bigger post about Lima once I've seen a bit more of it – but I wanted to share this photo I took of the sunset in a reflecting pool on the top of the cliff in Miraflores, the posh neighbourhood I am calling home for a couple of days.

Lucky escape from Cusco

I am in Cusco airport, about to board a flight for Lima.

I feel very fortunate to be able to do this, as a state of emergency has been declared due to the continuing heavy rains. Many previous flights were cancelled, and the airport is only going to get busier as the entire countryside around Cusco is a literal disaster area. Rivers overflowing, houses collapsing (a shop down the street from me in Cusco imploded), just yesterday bridges that I had crossed on Saturday were washed out. All routes, both rail and road, into and out of Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu are now blocked. Machu Picchu itself has been closed off, and thousands of tourists are stranded in Aguas Calientes. Airlifts have started to bring out the most vulnerable people. I met a father and son couple who were airlifted out by helicopter last night, who told me that apparently the American military are bringing in their own helicopters to assist in the evacuation. Thousands more tourists who had planned to walk the Inca Trail, or who wanted to visit Machu Picchu, are milling around Cusco and most are evaluating where to go next. In a lot of cases the answer is Lima, so I was lucky to have booked my flight out today. It´s going to get messy around here soon, I sense chaos on the near horizon as everyone tries to leave the region. I feel lucky for having decided not to attempt to get to Machu Picchu by taxi on Saturday night – very likely I would still be there now, and miss my flight.

But the problems of me and a few thousand other tourists are insignificant. Whatever happens, eventually we will go on to other, sunnier destinations, to continue our vacations and our lives. The poor people who live here, especially the already poverty-stricken Quechuas in the valleys and the mountains, are the ones that have to live with all this devastation, and over 3000 of them have already lost their homes. We go away with a travel story to tell, but the people we leave behind have to pick up the pieces.

I will write more when I get to Lima.

Categories: South America Tags: , , ,

A beautiful day in the Sacred Valley, and a gamble fails

As you may know if you follow this blog or know me on Facebook, weather woes have dominated the last week or so of my trip. When Peru does the wet season, it doesn't mess about. However, ever the optimist, I arranged a 2-day tour this weekend: the Sacred Valley of the Incas on the first day, and another attempt on Machu Picchu for the second day. I hoped that the weather would be at least less crap than the first time round. I was half right.

Amazingly, to start the day, and for the first time in days, it was not raining in Cusco. I took this as a good sign, and boarded the tourist bus as 9AM hopeful of a break. We took off in the direction of Q'orao, one of these obligatory handicraft market stops on these tours. Just once I'd like to go on a tour that didn't involve being flogged cheaper tat than I see every day in whatever town I am staying in at the time. But I came away with some photographic goodies, in the case of one of the local market puppies and an old Quechua weaver woman.

We got back in the bus and headed for Pisac, our first set of Inca ruins for the day. Along the way we encountered many rockslides across the road that required careful negotiation, evidence of the bad weather of the previous days. Once at Pisac, while we hopped out and got our tickets checked at the gate, I spotted this kitten playing in the shadows:

An easyish climb along a short Inca path and we were among the ruins of Pisac. They were somewhat like a mini-Machu Picchu, situated on the saddle between two mountain rises, with terraces stretching away down the slopes to either side. I was a little more energetic / photo-driven than most so I managed to go up both rises in our allotted 15-minute "free time".

Soon enough our time was over, and we re-mounted the bus for an hour's drive to Urubamba, for a buffet lunch. Along the way, not only was it not raining, but unless our eyes deceived us, there was an appearance of actual, honest-to-god, blue sky. I finished my lunch quickly, bought a bottle of beer, and went outside to sit in the sun. I began to think that maybe my gamble would pay off, that the weather might have finally broken, and that I might at least get the chance to see Machu Picchu in something other than fog and torrential downpours.

We sallied forth down the road to Ollantaytambo, a town I was already familiar with from the previous week, where it had been the first stop on our Jungle Trek. This time, we sailed through the main square and on towards the ruins, which were much less remote than either Pisac or Machu Picchu. These literally rise out of the side of the town, terraces running up the side of a hill, with temples and guard houses sprinkled around the crest of the hill. I had a hard time deciding if the ruins themselves, or the setting (in a beautiful valley with staggering mountains surrounding the town of Ollantaytambo itself) were more impressive. The utterly brilliant sunshine was the overall winner, though.

At the end of the tour of the ruins, I parted company with the rest of the tour group as I was going to stay in Ollantaytambo until 7PM to catch the train out. That meant I had another 2-3 hours to play with and I intended to get as much shooting done as I could while the weather held. There are few things I enjoy more than plopping in the iPod headphones, getting in the zone, and clambering around ruins shooting away to my heart's content, getting into parts of sites I probably shouldn't be, and working to my own schedule. Total indulgence.

Eventually the light started to go, so I decided to go have a poke around the town itself. Ollantaytambo is an original Inca town so most of the streets and buildings have Inca stone foundations. It makes for a very charming base, despite the over-touristy facade. On that note, they seem to have a pretty entrepreneurial spirit:

On many of the houses were fertility totems, depicted as two bulls.

I wandered the streets a bit until I saw a wooden pole with a red plastic bag tied to it. This is the Andean sign indicating that chicha (an alcoholic drink of fermented corn) is brewed inside. I stepped through the plain entrance into a modest but welcoming courtyard, full of sunflowers and a snoozing German shepherd.

A woman stepped out to welcome me, and I asked for a vasito of chicha, something I was curious to try for the first time. She must have known I was no veteran, for instead of the plastic pint glass so often associated with the drink, she brought me a dainty juice glass and a pitcher full of maybe a pint's worth of the stuff. Bitter, yes, but drinkable. While we chatted I ended up draining almost all of it, but eventually the sourness got the better of me. I don't know if I could do a night on the stuff. I made my excuses, grabbed a coffee on the way, and shuffled down towards the train station. On the way, ominously, it began to rain.

My train was at 7pm, but they required that everyone be there a half hour early, to counter the Peruvian sense of punctuality. So it was that we waited around until nearly 7 in the pissing rain, with no word or hint of entry onto the platforms. That's when a serious-looking woman made her way out into the crowd, mounted a box, and summarily announced that the 7pm train – the last one of the night – was cancelled. This was due to no less than 6 different rockslides across the train tracks between Ollantaytambo and Aguas Calientes. I had an instant feeling of dread, that I was about to be thwarted at the last minute from my ambition to return to Machu Picchu.

We all made our way back up to the Peru Rail ticket office to see about getting refunds. Unfortunately, the ticket office was an utter shambles, with 4 different queues for 4 windows which seemed to arbitrarily open and close, literally seeming to process one person every 10-15 minutes each. There were 150 people at least trying to get refunds. The queues did not move. It continued to rain, with greater intensity. Some of the people in the queues were poor souls who had taken off at 7AM from Ollantaytambo and been trapped in the train between rockslides over the course of the day, and who had failed to get to Aguas Calientes. Those with multiple group members assigned some to go and see about accommodation in Ollantaytambo. I talked with some taxi drivers on options of how to get to Aguas. They wanted 100 soles, or about £25, per person. I thought that sounded reasonable, until we got into the details. That was for a best-case 4 hours, worst case 6 hours or not at all if the road was washed out, to get us not to Aguas but to Hidroelectrico, where we would have to walk the last 7 miles to Aguas. Now this is the same walk we did on the afternoon of Day 3 of the Jungle Trek, and it took 3 hours in the pissing rain then, along the dodgy sleepers and loose gravel of the railway tracks. This would be at night, still in the pissing rain, with active rockslides happening and rail crews working to clear them. Not my idea of fun. The rail staff refused to say if the trains would be running tomorrow, either.

What I couldn't work out was any way in which I could responsibly visit Machu Picchu without jeopardising my flight from Cusco to Lima on Tuesday (non-changeable, non-refundable). In the best case of getting a taxi Saturday night and walking the 7 miles, starting at 8pm, I wouldn't get to Aguas Calientes until at least 4AM, and I would be already exhausted from the walk, wet, miserable, and I would then have to hike an hour up the hill, now 5AM, by which point I would have missed the tickets for the mountain Waynu Picchu, which I had tickets for last time but didn't use due to the weather. Without Waynu Picchu access, and with it raining, I would have exactly the same Machu Picchu experience as last time. The alternative was to stay the night in Ollantaytambo, and try to get to Aguas over the course of Sunday, making the Machu Picchu attempt on Monday. However, given the state of the weather and the undependability of the trains, I thought the risk of getting stranded in Aguas on Monday night after visiting Machu Picchu, and missing my flight to Lima, too great to accept. Reluctantly I accepted the offer of one of the collectivo drivers of 10 soles (£2.50) for a drive back to Cusco. Defeated, I sat next to a French couple who had enjoyed a beautiful sunny day on Machu Picchu, but who had then themselves been shunted onto a 50-seat diesel train car from Aguas, hours after they were meant to have returned. We drove back to Cusco through the rain and fog.

So now I am back in Cusco. I have to go back to the travel agency to see what kind of refunds I can get, though without much hope of cooperation. I have a feeling I will be sorting out refunds with Peru Rail and the Machu Picchu ticket folks myself tomorrow, when the offices open. Not exactly the end to my Cusco time I had in mind.

But I am feeling better than I did last night. After a night and morning of constant rain, there are hints of sun in Cusco, and knowing how fleeting this is likely to be, I am going to get out amongst it. And I know that when I look back, I will be thankful for the chance to have visited the Sacred Valley in sunshine, and to have taken one or two photos that go in the Keepers file.

A last word of advice: When the guidebook says a place is best avoided in the wet season, listen.

I think I shall have to return to Cusco and to Machu Picchu when things are a bit drier.

4-day Jungle Trek to Macchu Picchu

Here follows a tale of rain, pain, fun and adventure from my just-completed tour of the Urubumba Valley and Machu Picchu. As I have said before I chose to do the jungle trek rather than the “classic” Inca Trail trek for various reasons, but mostly it boiled down to me not wanting to be stuck on a 4-5 day hike with a bunch of package tourists fresh off the plane from wherever. Also the jungle trek came in at $160, or about 1/3rd the price of the Classic Inca Trail. And it involved some mountain biking the first day, so there was some variety and it wasn’t just a 3-4 day hike up the same trail. So it was right up my attention deficit suffering alley.

Day 1: Mountain Biking
A woman came to collect me from the hotel at 6:45AM, and we walked down to where a small bus was waiting in a square. We collected 4 Argentinean guys (students hereinafter referred to as “Los Chicos”) and 2 Argentinean couples, an older couple (Mauro and ?) and a younger student couple (Rodrigo and ?), a crazy Korean guy whose real name we later learned was Hwong, but wanted us to call him Salvador, and finally an Australian couple (Lewis and Jane). Well we thought it was final, but the bus wouldn’t leave. We sat around for ages and the final passenger showed up, a blonde Dutch doctor named Mieke, who had been misinformed about the departure time by her agency. We met our guide, a cheeky young Quechua named Angel (‘but everyone calls me Angelito”).

We set off towards Ollantaytambo, the jumping-off point for almost all tours heading in the direction of Machu Picchu. There was our last chance for the day to buy necessities (water, co

ca leaves, biscuits, etc) before we headed up into the hills. The weather began to worsen somewhat as we ascended, and the clouds closed in as we got into the mountains proper, to the point that visibility was seriously affected and all of us became somewhat uncomfortable at the driver’s speed and seeming lack of fear. It rained sporadically and we came across the occasional rockfall that had to be cleared away before we could proceed.

We headed upwards into thicker cloud and finally dismounted in a parking lot on a high pass (4300m / 14000ft) where some pretty old crappy mountain bikes of  varying makes were unloaded from the top of the bus and left out in the increasingly heavy rain. As were the helmets and gloves, so that by the time you got to put these on they were soaked and freezing, and remained so for the rest of the day. For some reason I was nominated as the leader, and the guide told us to just ride down the other side of the pass on the same road we had just driven up. I was a little annoyed at this, as I hadn’t realised this would be a road ride rather than cross country or on paths. But as we were to see, there were still challenges to confront. 

The first challenge was the weather. It was raining in heavy and light patches, but always raining, and at that altitude it was a cold rain. Almost as soon as we set off we were soaked through from head to toe (except for my chest under the raincoat), and freezing to the point of numbness (a couple of people didn’t complete the ride due to not being able to control the brakes with numb hands). And at different points the visibility dropped to as low as 20m so you just couldn’t see which way the road was going.

The rain was also causing all sorts of rock falls, so my initial disappointment at riding on a smooth road was quickly dispelled as we ended up having to thread through regular rock falls and emergency road works being carried out, and thread between traffic jams on either side to boot. The going got pretty unpleasant at times but once I got into it I was actually beginning to enjoy myself, in a perverse way, and from time to time the ride got easier. That is until we got to this:


We had a couple of test steps to see if we could push the bikes across, but the water was thick and very strong, and was carrying all kinds of debris from further up the mountain, including rocks of up to 6 inches across, at the same speed. It was clear we would have to wait for the support van to catch up with us and ferry the bikes across the road/river. While we were waiting several vehicles attempted to go through, with some of the smaller vehicles having close calls. One very intrepid motorcyclist attempted to cross it slowly, then got stuck and nearly came off the bike in a disastrous miscalculation. He asked for help getting across the river, but when I and another guy started to walk out we quickly changed our minds and shrugged. He managed to gun it through in the end but I am sure he needed a new set of underwear afterwards. The van finally showed up (already containing several people who hadn’t made all of the journey so far) and through common consent we all agreed to skip ahead to the lunch village in the van. On the way there we passed several more areas where gullies had become raging rivers, though none as bad as that first one. We did have to thread through several more rock falls as well. 

I am not sure how it happened, but at lunch, somehow it was decided that we would put a stop to the biking for the day. I was of two minds about continuing with the bike thing, but I guess I was secretly happy that I could put on some dry clothes. I was worried about my hiking boots, which had had water streaming into the tops of them for the entire bike ride. They’re waterproof, but unfortunately that applies equally to water inside of them. There were lakes inside of my boots, and I had 2 days of hiking and an ascent of Machu Picchu still to come. 

We continued by van, but had to stop for an overturned truck full of soft drinks, which had blocked the road. The local solution was to hack away at the inside bank of the road with spades and shovels and to remove any stubborn rocks and boulders by rolling them across the road (a 4 man job) and down the side of the mountain until a lane wide enough for one vehicle to pass was opened. It was at this point my little camera (the S90) had enough of the moisture and humidity and decided to fog up from the inside. Great. 

On to Santa Maria, a half-built town of newish but cheap-looking buildings, where we were to overnight. It continued to rain but not quite as badly as before. We got there a little earlier than planned due to the aborted bike trip, and settled ourselves into our hospedaje in this little outpost town next to the Urubamba River. Shoes and clothes were hung out to dry, but with the humidity topping 80-90% we were not hopeful. With our spare time, some of us had a little walk through the town, down a little path to the river, and across a foot bridge, which seemed to just fade off into the jungle on the other side. We marvelled at the rain-swollen Urubamba, which was throwing up plumes of water all over, and you could hear thundering booms as large rocks were tumbled invisibly down its river bed. Clearly falling into this river would be a death sentence, and it would be our constant companion for the next 2 days. Back to the hospedaje’s attached bar/restaurant for a simple meal of soup and estofado before an early retirement. It was good to start to get to know the rest of the group a bit – they seemed a good lot. 

Day 2: Inca Trail t

o Santa Theresa

An earlyish start, breakfast, and it was onto the first full day of hiking. We were only to cover 19km/12mi but it would take us 7 hours due to much of it being on an old Inca trail with lots of ascent and descent. We set off back the way we had come slightly, and went across a road bridge, though still made of loose slats of wood with the raging Urubamba clearly visible beneath. We crossed into the ghost town of Santa Maria Viejo, or Old Santa Maria, which was the original location of the town until a flash flood destroyed it in the 90s, killing 300 people outright. Three crosses stand near the bridge, representing the men, women and children who perished in the flood. 

We continued on down a dirt road, alongside the river, ascending slightly but having a pretty easy time of it for the first day – or so I thought at the time. We passed old pulley-driven basket bridges, and disturbed a flock of parakeets, who screeched off into the mountains. 

We left the road and took a very narrow mountain path, at times only 18 inches wide, up the side of the hill and down again, over boulders, into a gully by the river, and up a slight rise into a clearing. There we were informed that we were soon to join the network of Inca trails (28,000km covering the former empire) soon, and the going would get tougher. To use the Inca trail we would need to be marked. Angelito broke open a kind of nut which had a rich red interior, and one by one he marked us with the natural pigment, so that by the end we were all covered in orange tribal markings. 



We carried on a little further, at times entering dense jungle, and came across several coca fields. Angelito stopped to tell us that these were not the same leaves we all had in our little baggies, which we bought for 1 or 2 soles ($.30/$.60) a pop. These were the cocaine-grade coca leaves, sought after by the immense Peruvian narco-trafficking organisations for their unique blend of 14 alkaloids. Reputedly these were the strongest in the world, and the same size bag would sell to the narco-traffickers for 35 soles, or over $10 a go. 

Soon we came to the point where we could join an Inca trail for a challenging 75 minute ascent punctuated by a rest stop.


I would replace the word “challenging” with “punishing”. I am typically near the front of hiking groups due to my pace and the fact that I like to have time to take photos and not get left behind – but this climb handed me my ass on a platter. I don’t know if it was the altitude or general unfitness but the first 45 minute section saw me fall further and further behind and my lungs were on fire from start to finish. I ended up towards the rear of the group with the others who were having trouble. We finally emerged, gasping, up into the collection of huts that was the hiker’s rest stop (“the Monkey Lounge”). I took some time collecting myself and trying to feel human again. To amuse the resting trekkers, not only did the Monkey Lounge have the requisite monkey on a string, but they also had a wombat on a wooden perch, a large dog-sized rodent who we initially saw standing on hind legs and draining a bottle of Gatorade held in its front paws. Later he was let off the perch and snuffled around the hikers, begging for food here and there.

We slipped our packs back on, and headed back out onto the trail, this time for a gentler ascent, and we broke out of the tree line into the sunshine and the high Andes, where we got a fantastic view of the rest of the valley and the trail. The trail had perilous sections of thin ledges and precipitous drops, but it was too nice a day at the time to worry about such things.


We stopped at a magical, wind-lashed outcropping called Condor Point, where we all gingerly climbed and and basked in the sun as Angelito regaled us with the history of the Incas, their empire, and their network of trails. We heard the story of the elite group of North American athletes who had come to do a time challenge of the last section of the Classic Inca Trail and managed to cover 32km in 8hrs. And then had been roundly beaten by a Quechuan porter who had completed it in 3.5hrs… with a pack on.


We continued on down the trail and ventured back into the jungle, where we all began to notice small insect bites appearing without any associated pain or itch, in any place we had failed to apply repellent. These welts became a badge of pride, until the second or third day when they actually started to itch and became a source of irritation. We carried on down through the jungle to our lunch stop, almost at the river’s edge, a collection of small rustic buildings in which we were served a very hearty lunch of with a starter of popcorn, bread, and very tasty guacamole, followed by a creamy vegetable soup, and topped off by a basic but very edible spaghetti bolognese. There was even some music to accompany our meal. All the time we were eating, various hens, chicks, ducks, and ducklings clucked and quacked outside and inside, and we were glad that we had not had chicken as a main course. Afterwards was a bit of a siesta, with several hammocks to be had, and a couple more that could be had if you could be bothered to string them up to the trees. One of the Argentine guys did exactly that, but was not using his brain, and roped one end to a banana tree. Queue one broken banana tree, a sore bottom, and much hilarity at his expense. 


We rallied the troops and continued on towards Aguas Termales, were we were to enjoy a frolic in some hot springs. But first it was more jungle, more Indiana-Jones style bridges, and some easier walking and a chance to enjoy the scenery.

We finally arrived at the Aguas Termales spa complex as it was getting dark. We paid our 15 soles entrance fee, changed, deposited our bags (cue one idiot cloakroom woman dropping my bag full of camera gear on the floor) and dropped into the large hot spring pool. This was a great experience as there was still enough light to see the massive Andean peaks towering over us. The pool itself was bounded on one side by a mountain, whose rock face continued right on down into the pool, where you could sit on boulders and lean back against its bulk. We made our way up into the properly hot pool, and alternated between it and the ice-cold dunking pool nearby, to get the blood flowing of course. We made our way in bits and pieces (and via a 10 minute power cut) into the changing rooms and eventually we all got in a bus for a short trip to Santa Theresa. 

There’s no way to beat around the bush; Santa Theresa is a butt-ugly town that exists merely as a waypoint on the jungle trek to Machu Picchu. It’s a town of half-finished projects, and many of the streets are simply two sets of pavement on either side of what is basically a ditch. We checked into another basic alojamiento and then made our way up around to where we were to have dinner. This place, called Carnal, was a little can’t-be-arsed cafe whose owners seemed just to be in it for the little money that got thrown their way. The food was epically bad, and Mieke had a large and obvious hair on her plate. The bastards just didn’t care and we couldn’t wait to get out of there. We headed for the only place to be in town, the disco, where a bad DJ was beat-mixing so ineptly and so often that all the action on the dancefloor would come to a halt every time he changed tunes. But as is so often the case, alcohol seemed to ease the aural pain and soon enough everyone was dancing away. One of the Uruguayan guys from another group made good dancing buddies with one of the Argentine girls from our group, who turned out not to actually be the girlfriend of Mauro. I made it till about 1-2AM but apparently some of the Chicos and the Argentine girl were there till 4 or 5AM. Which didn’t seem to make much sense given our 7AM start, but horses for courses I say.

Day 3: Santa Theresa to Aguas Calientes
Another early start to the day, and some fairly flat trekking to be had for the morning. We were to cover 22km or so today. We hiked towards Hidroelectrico (yes, the real name of a place) where we would enter the Machu Picchu National Park. The morning’s walk was pretty easy, with nice if somewhat hot weather and beautiful scenery, and the most Indiana Jones-esque bridge yet. The Urubamba continued to flow strong and hard as the heavy rains of the past days drained from the mountains around it.

We stopped to register for entry into the Machu Picchu reserve in sight of the great mountain itself. In the distance you could just see an Inca train cutting across its face. We continued on to a lunch rest stop next to the hydro-electric power station, and waited ages for food or even cups to arrive. After lunch it was a walk along active train tracks (we had to get off the tracks 5 times to dodge trains and locomotives) towards Aguas Calientes, the staging point for Machu Picchu. 

Unfortunately, as we walked along the tracks, sporadic rain began and some heavy spells meant that further photography was impossible. Negotiating the rocks in the track bed became a bit tiring in the wet, and it was not possible to walk on the spacers as the Peru Rail folks seem to have thrown them onto the ground with no detectable pattern and nailed them down where they fell. Nevertheless I spent most of the afternoon in a private world, iPod half in (other ear open so I could hear oncoming trains) and for the most part I was usually at least 100m in front of everyone else. We were glad, 3 hours after lunch, to be able to leave the tracks and head up the final tiring hill to Aguas Calientes. Along the way Angelito showed us the path up the mountain that we would need to walk if we chose to hike up to Machu Picchu rather than take the bus up. It was 1700 steps up. I remember thinking distinctly, in my end-of-day fatigue, “bollocks to that.”

We got into Aguas Calientes, a raging ripoff of a town full of fake Inca-stone hotels and package tours, and were shunted into various different hospedajes of very basic standard. This was a little disappointing as we were told we would have a higher standard of place in Aguas. But hey – at least it had hot showers. We hung out our increasing loads of wet gear as best we could, with little hope of it drying. We had some down time which I used to check the internet, and then all met up for a pretty decent dinner/briefing in which we met our new guide, Jon, and got the low-down on how the next day would pan out. Basically you were looking at a very early day, and a march up the mountain. For reasons to be explained, I opted to walk up. A quick trip to the shops to stock up on food for the next day, and early to bed for a struggle to sleep between nervousness/excitement and some loud partying nearby.

Day 4: Machu Picchu
Day 4 started with a shock as the alarm went off on the stroke of 2AM. I had dressed, packed my leave-behind clothes (mostly wet, but one dry pair of jeans that would be a life saver later) and grabbed my day pack and was off. I was supposed to meet Mauro and his friend at 2:30 in front of last night’s restaurant but no sign of them, so I set off down the road at 2:45, alone. There was almost nobody to be seen in Aguas Calientes itself, and as soon as I got down the road and past the bus depot, I was utterly alone. This was an eerie experience as I had only my headtorch for illumination (there were no streetlamps). The head lamp’s beam shone through the early morning mist and the spray in the air from the nearby rapids, and every so often a glowing pair of unknown animal eyes would stare at me briefly before disappearing into the undergrowth. It was an unnerving experience. All the way down the road to the foot bridge and across to the trail head I was alone. It was only after I had prepared myself for the ascent up the 1700 steps that I finally saw two other headlamps appear back at the bridge. The wolves were at the door. It was time to ascend. 


The reason I had gotten up so early was that you needed to be one of the first 400 people in the queue if you wanted to get a pass to hike up Wayna Picchu, the little mountain behind the city itself that you had to climb if you wanted to get the “classic” Machu Picchu photos. Since I had fared so poorly on my last big climb I thought I might get a properly early start just to give myself time to go up at my own pace. As it turns out I needn’t have worried much. For some reason my pace and endurance was much better this time, and I made a decent show of it, definitely not the fastest but not near the slowest either. I was alone for part of the ascent, until the steps crossed over the vehicle road and I lost the other trail head and had to walk around a long switchback in the road to pick the trail back up again, by which point the first group had caught up with me, including Mieke and Salvador. By this point a heavy rain had set in, and I broke out the poncho to cover me and the craptacular day pack I had bought in Cusco. The ascent was much easier than I had expected, and I was actually surprised to reach the top in just an hour when we had been led to believe 1hr20 or so. 

We reached the entrance gates in the pitch darkness and rain, at 4:15 or so. An hour and a half to wait before they would start looking at tickets, and and hour and 45 minutes until the gates opened. There were around 20-30 people there already, most of whom would have passed me during my little “lost period”. I stood shivering with Mieke and Salvador and we attempted to dry out our rain gear, and generally huddle under the guard shack roof as the rain backed and fulled, and the early chill set in. More and more people arrived, a queue began to stretch off down the road, and it became clear that even those arriving on the first bus wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting the prized Waynu Picchu tickets. 

Eventually, though, the time came, our tickets were checked, and we triumphantly requested the 10AM Waynu Picchu slot. I was number 17 in the queue. We went through and waited for all of our group to assemble, and those of us whose English was stronger than Spanish went off with a rather indifferent guide named Washington to get an early-doors tour of the site. He was a bit surly, and it rained off and on (and got stronger and stronger) over the course of his 2-hour tour, but who cares? As we pushed through the masses of tour groups at the entrance, and climbed through to the first set of terraces, we finally saw what all the fuss was about: Machu Picchu. Staggering. The city seemed to just fall off the edge of the world on every side. It was encased in early morning fog and cloud which seemed come and go, and you had to be sharp with a camera to catch details. Unfortunately the rain made camera use a very hit and miss affair. The S90 was already fogged out and the SLR showed signs of impending moisture damage, so I was only able to grab the odd shot here and there:


By the time we got to the end of the tour, it was bucketing down, and we hid in one of the temples. My wide angle lens was beginning to fog from the inside, not good. I had to put the camera away, finally.

We made our way to one of the peripheral temples that actually had a roof (a rare thing in Machu Picchu) and had a bit of lunch while our ponchos dried off a bit. The rain backed and filled but never quite stopped, and we headed back out the entrance to grab a hot chocolate and use the bathroom. While having our chocolate the rain turned it up a notch and became torrential showers. We waited it out for an hour or so. The girls headed back into the site, but I reckoned I wasn’t getting any drier, and I was concerned about my camera gear, so I decided to cut my losses and head back down to town. It was disappointing, but only mildly, as I was still awed by what I had seen, even if I couldn’t preserve it for posterity. 

It seems a great number of other folks were also ready to call it a day, because the queue for the buses reached gargantuan proportions. So, together with 2 British doctors (Chris and Paul) from another group, we decided to hoof it back down the 1700 steps in the driving rain. This was easier for obvious reasons than going up, but complicated by the fact the path was now a river. We arrived, soaked, in Aguas Calientes, and stopped off for a meal in a touristy pizzeria. It was noon, and I had been awake for 10 hours already. Our train reservation was at 6pm. What to do with the rest of the time? I ended up back at the internet cafe for a bit, and then went to change into my dry jeans. Every single other piece of clothing I had was wet, as was my passport, and much of my money. I sat with the Argentine guys and we all dropped off to sleep at various points. Finally we made our way to the train station and settled in for the short journey to Ollantaytambo. Almost everyone slept on the way back, with a brief interruption to transfer to a coach to take us back to Cusco. We said our goodbyes there, and a few email addresses were exchanged, but most everyone was dead on their feet, and dying for a hot shower and a warm bed. I returned to the Los Ninos Hotel, where a nice double bed awaited me. Deep sleep ensued. 

While the first and final days were somewhat of a disappointment due to the weather, overall I really enjoyed the trek and would recommend it to anyone. And because I have some time to play with here in Cusco, I am going to re-attempt Machu Picchu sometime in the next few days, and hope for a break in the weather. This will be a simple round-trip to Aguas Calientes rather than the full trek all over again, but that will be perfect for what I want to do. At least I can say I’ve tried!

Off to Macchu Picchu, and first thoughts on Cusco

It is now my third night in Cusco, and now that I've finally blurted out the last blog post about Bolivia, it is fair to turn my sights on my present abode, Cusco.

Cusco has the reputation of being the "gringo capital of South America" and so I was prejudiced against it from the start, prepared to wave it aside dismissively as just the South American equivalent of the Khao San Road in Bangkok. My previous experiences of high gringo concentrations in South America (e.g. Copacabana and Uyuni) touched a raw nerve of self-loathing. I had steeled myself for the worst.

However Cusco turns out to be (mostly) chilled out, cool, and stylish. Sure, there are a lot of tourists here, and there are a lot of lowest common denominator rip-off operations going on, but the bigger tourist market means that there is a wide variety of choices in restaurants, cafes, bars, and shops, and it's possible to find something more up one's particular alley and not just generic one-size-fits-all joints.

I have already met some cool folks randomly through exploring some of the peripheral cafes etc (Las Blas is the nighlife area for instance with a bit of a boho vibe) and it seems pretty easy to meet randoms here. And I've managed to get the feel for the city's layout very quickly; it's a great walking city, even taking into account the hills. Just wandering from street to street, admiring the Inca foundations of almost all the modern buildings, is a treat unto itself. I have managed to explore some of the Inca temples around town, including the Temple of the Sun that was superseded by the Dominican Church, and the hilltop ruins of Sacsayhuaman.

Tomorrow (Friday) I am starting the Inca Jungle Trek, which is 1 day mountain biking, 2 days trekking, and the final day visiting Macchu Picchu. I hope the weather holds up as it has been raining on and off again, but occasionally when it is on, it is ON. See below:

I will be out of contact until (probably) Sunday evening when we get to Aguas Calientes. I am thinking of seeing out most of the rest of my trip in the Cusco region so I will be sure to post some thoughts and pictures etc of the trip – and of Cusco – next week.

In Peru, barely

So I managed to catch an 8AM bus from La Paz to Cusco, Peru today. This was meant to be a 12 hour journey, but ended up being nearly 16. This may be down to the 2 hours spent at the border getting everyone through entry immigration on the Peru side at Desaguadero. 1.5hrs of standing in a 100m-long queue snaking through a bustling street market in the midday sun. Then further into Peru, massive tailbacks due to an overturned truck. Got into Cusco at 11PM, as per usual I had not reserved anything in advance and the first couple places I tried were full. I ended up having to take a dorm room in a youth hostel, something I have managed to avoid thus far on this trip. It is loud and rambunctious here, and I feel like an old fart in a bar full of 20 year olds. Gonna have to change to a decent place tomorrow night methinks. Probably will have to anyway, once the other poor unsuspecting fools in my dorm room get a load of my snoring!

This place seems to have decent internet access (first time in 3 or 4 weeks I've had this) so I may be able to upload some of the Salar tour photos from here. Will have to sit down and actually put my thoughts down in writing before I start looking into Macchu Picchu options.