Dead Woman’s Pass
From dawn until dusk, day two on the Inca Trail represents a grueling challenge, even for the experienced hiker. It is where those who quit, quit.
“Buenos días, señors”, a porter called out.
Footsteps approached our tent. Then a stick came tapping at the flysheet. The reverberations sent droplets of condensation falling onto my face. I opened my eyes to discover that I was faced into the corner of the tent, where a pool of water had formed overnight. Turning to reach my sweater and hiking pants, I realized everything felt damp. After unzipping the tent and sticking my head outside, I understood why.
Thick cloud had descended overnight, and was now blanketing our camp against the first grey hues of dawn. It was hard to tell if it was raining or not. We had literally slept in a cloud. It was murky, cold and mysterious. All things considered, it was a soggy and bleak start to the day. However the conditions merely enhanced the feeling of mystical adventure that hiking the Inca Trail brings.
Our tents on a soggy second morning on the Inca Trail
Despite a long and uninterrupted sleep, I was still tired from the exertions of day one on the trail. Strong coffee and fresh local bread soon brought me around. We then fueled up with a breakfast intended to provide slow release energy. A tough day of hiking lay in store.
Within an hour, we had packed up and were slowly filtering out of our ten and a half thousand foot high camp. We immediately started climbing. Ahead of us was an elevation gain of 1,100 meters (3,600 feet). This would take us to an altitude of 4,215 meters (a few feet under 14,000) at notorious Warmiwañusca, AKA Dead Woman’s Pass.
Margot helping the trail rangers to log our details
After climbing for only fifteen minutes, we were presented with an opportunity to rest and shed some layers. We had started the day wearing our rain poncho’s for the first time. But now, the heavy overnight clouds had dissipated under the strengthening rays of the rising sun. The required stop was made at a little station, beyond the highest village on the mountain. Here, trail authorities stamped our passports and made a note of our names, nationalities and next of kin. Ominous, I thought. All too quickly, we were back underway, on yet more steps.
The view looking back down the trail
For an hour we climbed through jungle, on the irregular stone staircase as it snaked up the mountainside. Shade from the overhanging trees and the freshness of the snowmelt stream provided welcome relief from the sun, which had by now scaled even the highest peaks of the Urubamba range.
In a moment of self-doubt regarding my chances of completing the hike, I realized that I had forgotten something of great value at the overnight camp, far below. I had forgotten my mindfulness; the mental defense against the rigors of the mountain climb. As I rested midway up a series of near vertical steps, I took a deep breath and brought myself back into the present moment.
I listened to the passing water, gurgling as gravity pulled it over the rocks. I savored the aromas of the jungle and felt the warmth of the sunbeams which penetrated the leafy canopy. I felt my feet on the stone steps. Most of all, I reminded myself that I was not on a arduous hike at all; I was actually on the adventure of a lifetime. With renewed mental energy, I began to climb once again. The few thoughts that came along now were all positive. Before, they had been a haze of pessimistic mental arithmetic regarding how many steps lay up ahead.
With each step now, I was thankful that I had good quality hiking boots. They were such a good fit, and were broken in long before I had arrived in Peru. As my foot landed on each step, I felt grounded in the awareness of this amazing adventure on the Inca Trail.
Before long, I had dozens of things to be thankful for, including having good health and the positive mindset to have sought out such an adventure. The pleasant thoughts, intertwined with long periods of silent meditation, sent the following forty five minutes along without nearly as much effort as the early morning trudge. In no time I looked up to see a grassy clearing in the trees, where the group had stopped to rest. I was more than ready for lunch, so was disappointed to hear that we would not be eating again until we had cleared Dead Woman’s Pass, and descended to our next overnight camp. Conveniently, 4 local women had set up stalls selling snacks at the clearing. I wondered how they had transported the goods to such an elevation. When I gathered up two Gatorades and a snickers, I learned that the prices were similarly elevated.
Our porters forging ahead to set up an overnight camp. These extraordinary men carry up to 50lbs on their back, containing tents, food, chairs and cooking equipment
The ladies stalls had been strategically located. As soon as we resumed our stair climbing, we discovered a sharp increase in gradient and a notable decrease in oxygen levels. It is such a strange sensation to have energy and power in the legs, but to feel restricted by shortness of breath and headache. In truth, I had been feeling a mild headache the entire day, but now it was worsening. The tree line was now below us, meaning we were fully exposed to the sun’s burning rays on the barren mountainside.
Short breaks were now coming more frequently, sometimes with hands on knees in search of the breath that would fill the lungs. Carolina and Andreh were immediately in front of me now. When Carolina stopped to rest, I joined the couple. I am not sure if Carolina was struggling, or if her strategy was preplanned. Either way, I was becoming more relieved each time I looked up to see her taking a break.
As our assault on the mountain continued, the breaks became more frequent and elongated. It was almost impossible to draw a full breath. On one of our many breaks, we sat by the trail and looked back down the mountain to where we had come from. Far below in the distance was the camp where we had slept. The mountain scenery was breathtaking – or maybe it was just the altitude. Whatever it was, it had a dizzying effect. Although I tried hard not to, each time I looked up, I could now pick out the pass. It was an imposing sight, towering over us and seemingly getting no closer.
The Inca Trail was now also narrowing, with steep drop-offs on the exposed side. The mountainside was wild; Andean grass carpeting the rock on all but the most jagged peaks. And still the steps kept coming. Higher and higher we climbed.
On a rest stop where Carolina, Andreh and I managed to squeeze onto a natural stone step, there was barely a word spoken while we rested. Margot was somewhere below us, also resting. She was tracking our progress up the mountain like a slow-moving sheep dog ushering it’s flock along. My headache was now severe. A glance upwards suggested that we were probably about five hundred feet from the pass. Shaun, Davide and Tanya were already up there. We could make out their profiles as they stood admiring the view and posing for photographs. Eventually Carolina stood up to resume the climb, and that is the moment that trouble really struck.
When I got to my feet, it felt as though I had been struck by a baseball bat on the back of the head. I looked to the trail and was alarmed to see that it was swaying to and fro like a ship on heavy seas. Then, from nowhere, vomit. I dry retched until I was on my knees gasping for air. Margot arrived. From her pack she took a small bottle of oil, spread a little on her hands, cupped them, and put them over my mouth and nose.
“Breath. Deep”, she said.
It was altitude sickness; the one thing I feared on the Inca Trail. The steps and the distances I could handle. The huge vertical drop offs from the trail were problematic, but I was working through that. But I had no way of dealing with altitude sickness. I had cycled over the Rockies and not been affected, but now I was really struggling, despite having acclimated in Arequipa and Cusco.
The strong scent of coca leaf and muña filled my lungs, and provided almost instant relief. I felt well enough to continue, but about ten minutes later I was back on my knees, retching and struggling for air. My headache had become almost unbearable. Again, Margot worked her magic, and I continued climbing. I was like a car with a radiator problem. I could go so far, boil over, get treated, and venture on until the next stoppage. And that is how I climbed the last five hundred feet up to Dead Woman’s Pass, the highest point on the Inca Trail. The others were all on the summit, willing me on. At times I was on my hands and knees. When I eventually staggered onto the summit, it almost felt like I was in a lucid dream. I felt faint, exhausted, exhilarated and confused. But I had made it!
Our group on Dead Woman’s Pass. From left: Tanya, Davide, Shaun, Carolina, Andreh and a very dizzy me.
Feeling very sick, but I made it to 14,000ft on Dead Woman’s Pass on the Inca Trail!
After taking some photographs at the summit, we snacked quickly, and then went over the summit. With altitude sickness striking one of our group, it was best to get to lower elevation. On the other side of the pass, we again encountered steps, this time at a very steep gradient. I had been looking forward to the descent, but it provided only minimal respite. The steps were sore on the knees and leg muscles, but thankfully, I was no longer retching. The headache persisted. Carolina, Andreh and Margot stayed with me every step of the way, making sure I was all right.
The steep descent from Dead Woman’s Pass. The mountain in the background lay in wait on day three
Having descended several hundred feet, the headache eased enough for me to lift my head and admire the panorama. The trail snaked down the mountainside below us, until it disappeared into a deep ravine. That would be where we would sleep on our second night on the Inca Trail. On the mountain to the far side of the ravine, I looked in disbelief as I picked out the trail as it once again rose upwards. Margot provided reassurance, telling us we did not need to worry about the second mountain until day three. She also spoke to me about what had happened on the ascent.
“You are stubborn man”, she said smiling.
“Yes”, I confessed. “But I made it!”
Margot then told me she had been within a few minutes of calling the porters on her walkie-talkie to come and carry me off the mountain. We had also almost had an argument about my backpack. Margot had wanted to carry it to the top of Dead Woman’s Pass, to lighten my burden. But I repeatedly refused. There was little point in making it to the summit if I wasnt going to carry my own pack, I reasoned. But now, feeling a little better, we continued our descent.
Two hours later we arrived at camp, where the others were already preparing for lunch. It seemed strange to be having lunch right at the end of the day, just before dinner. It mattered little what the meal was – I wasn’t able to eat much. Instead, I sat nursing a cup of coca tea, thankful that I had made it over the pass. Day two on the Inca Trail had been extreme. I cannot say that I got to enjoy or savor much of the experience.
Clouds gathering around camp on the second night on the Inca Trail
That night in the tent, I was so exhausted that there was little time for thought before falling asleep. But I did muster a smile to myself in the darkness of another mountain camp. I had hiked to fourteen thousand feet, the highest point on the Inca Trail, by scaling Dead Woman’s Pass. I was exhausted, but satisfied.
Click here for day 3 on the Inca Trail!