Tag Archive Inca Trail

The Gringo Killer

Dead Woman’s Pass on Day 2 of the Inca Trail had been extreme. I had suffered altitude sickness near the summit at 14,000 feet, so to sleep that night at the ‘lower’ elevation of 11,000 feet was such a relief.

I had been unable to eat either lunch or dinner, which bizarrely, had been served within an hour of each other after we had arrived into camp. Our guide, Margot, was instead plying me with coca tea, to ward off further sickness. All I really wanted to do was to rest and recover. Sleep would come, but like everything else on the Inca Trail, it would come on the mountain’s terms.

A huge thunderstorm erupted shortly after we climbed into our tents, unleashing torrents of rain which pelted the flysheet. Shaun tossed and turned on his yellow inflatable mattress; each small movement causing a series of plasticy squeaks. Between the cracks of lightening, thunder, torrential rain, the squeaks, and eventually the snores, it was difficult to fall asleep. A little meditation finally nudged me off towards dreamland.

Clouds lingering on the morning of day 3 on the Inca Trail.

Day 3 on the Inca Trail dawned in much the same way as the previous day. The rain had stopped, but a thick blanket of cloud hung over camp. My appetite had returned with vigor, so I devoured all that was set in front of me at breakfast. Thirty minutes later, we were once again setting out on the trail. It came as very little surprise that our trajectory was upwards.

A misty start to day 3 on the Inca Trail.

Narrow stone steps once again snaked uphill, flanked on one side by the Andean grass of the mountainside, and on the other by huge vertical drop-offs. Down in the depths of the valley, the overnight cloud was lingering. But as the temperature rose, a strange phenomenon began to unfold. Rivers of cloud began flowing upwards out of the valleys, clinging to the mountainside as they rose up and over the trail in a display of misty mysticism.

While pausing in search of breath, I turned to look back out over the rising clouds and the trail. Far in the distance, Dead Woman’s Pass hauntingly reemerged from the clouds. It was surreal to think that I had hiked over such a monstrosity just a day beforehand. When I turned to resume climbing, I saw that Margot had stopped up ahead, and had our group gathered around her. We had reached Runkurakay; the first of several Inca ruins we would encounter on day three.

Runkurakay was used in Incan times in much the same way that we used it in 2018, albeit without the roof. The small circular structure which overlooked the valley far below (or in our case the shifting clouds), provided  sanctuary for those hiking the Inca Trail. Margot gave an in-depth lecture on the ruins, but I was distracted. I slipped off to the periphery of the group, where I could find a little space to breathe.

Runkurakay Ruins nestled into the hillside.

With altitude sickness still on my mind, I now looked up with some trepidation toward Runkurakay Pass; the latest mountain of the Urubamba range to stand in our way. Although Runkurakay is around 850 feet lower than Dead Woman’s Pass, the 13,123 feet summit is still cause for concern to a hiker with altitude sickness. But when I did my little self-check, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I felt reasonably well.

With the history lesson complete, and my mindful moment giving me newfound confidence, we once again set off on the never-ending stone steps of the Inca Trail. We hiked up and around two little lakes, which looked pretty but wafted of rotting vegetation and stale water. With each step now, I was mindful to focus on that particular moment, and to become consciously aware of all the sensory inputs. I cast all other thoughts off to oblivion with the rising clouds. In time the stone staircase flattened back to trail. Without much noticeable effort, I had reached the summit of Runkurakay, where all of the rising cloud now seemed to have gathered. Visibility was at less that twenty feet, adding a heavenly feel to the mountain top.

Pretty lakes – but also pretty stinky!

The group paused on the summit to snack, talk and reorganize our packs. Margot then broke the uplifting news that we had scaled the last major climb of the entire trail. This perked us all up no end. The descent, while initially very steep, was ultimately more gradual and less demanding than Dead Woman’s Pass. As the trail narrowed and sheer drops opened up to our right hand side, we filtered into single file. I was in a trio with Davide and Andreh, to whom who I had given one of my hiking poles. This gifting served a dual purpose. Andreh really appreciated the pole on the descent and I was happy to have only one pole for myself. Hiking with both poles had been counter-intuitive I learned. With no free hands, I had to stop every time I wanted to take my camera out of my pocket or to have a drink or snack.

We discussed soccer. Davide was an avid Hoffenheim supporter. Andreh enjoyed the watching English Premier League without partisanship. And I of course shared my love for Tottenham. We chatted for around a mile, until it occurred to me that I had more energy than I was using. Furthermore, talking in single file too often involved turning around to face the other guys. So, not wanting to waste my new found energy, I broke away from the conversation and steamed ahead on the trail. Pretty soon I had overtaken Tanya and was then hiking behind Shaun.

After several miles of enjoyable hiking, we came to a fork; one set of steps led upwards into the clouds, the other dropped off into jungle. Neither Shaun nor I knew which path to take, so we sat on the steps and waited for the others. It transpired (from the knowledgeable Margot of course) that the upper trail was the entrance to another Inca ruins. Given the option of exploring or continuing, we all opted to see the ruins. So we proceeded to clamber up 98 very steep and slippery steps.

Sayacmarca Ruins. Not very photogenic in the mist.

Arriving at Sayacmarca on the Inca Trail is like rising up through the floors of the world, crawling into the attic space, and then climbing out through a skylight to sit on the ridge tiles. It felt as if we had reached the roof of South America itself. The tightly clustered buildings huddled together on a rocky outcrop, bordered on all sides by sheer drops and offered a panoramic view out over the entire Urubamba range. Shaun and I had been resting just yards away from the foundations of this archeological marvel, but had no idea what lay above the mists. I wondered if this served as a metaphor for how many experiences in life we are so close to enjoying, but cannot see due to the foggy thinking.

After descended the steps onto the trail once again, I was the first to set out on the trail. For two days I had lagged behind the others, mostly due to sickness. But now I felt completely reinvigorated, and had developed an unquenchable thirst for exploring on what was an increasingly interesting hike.

The further into day 3 I hiked, the more the landscaped turned to tropical cloud forest.

Sayacmarca had been strategically placed. It is perhaps the point where one Peru meets another; a frontier which experts think may have inspired the Inca’s to build Machu Picchu where they did. As I carefully hiked on the narrow trail which now seemed to traverse a jagged and exposed mountain ridge, I noticed that the surroundings were changing dramatically. The barren windswept and sun-dried mountainsides of Warmiwañusca were now but a distant memory, as the evergreen fauna of the tropical cloud forest now predominated. As I edged ever closer to Machu Picchu, I was crossing the frontier between Peru’s arid upland and it’s more exotic Amazonian jungle. Some say Machu Picchu was to be used as an outpost for the Cusco-based Inca’s to venture into and conquer the Amazon.

Alas, the spread of the Inca Empire would be halted not by the lush vegetation and tropical species of the Amazon, but by the arrival of Europeans on South America’s north eastern shores. Who knows, if the Inca’s had spanned the Andes into the Amazon basin and beyond, the native people of South America may well have united, and been able to resist the European invasion. All such theories are now but mysteries of conjecture, left for the guides of Machu Picchu to unravel.

Feeling good, and enjoying day 3 on the Inca Trail.

Staying true to it’s climatic classification, the trail now edged through a thick cloud, which became increasingly menacing the further I ventured. I could tell that on either side now, great drops of thousands of feet lay in wait for any errant footstep. But the full repercussions of any theoretical falls remained concealed beneath the clouds. It was now also incredibly quiet; the thick moist air dampening the sounds of nature. After hiking solo for around a mile, the moisture in the air turned to rain, slowing my progress as the stones had become even more slippery. And then a sudden noise stopped me in my sodden tracks. I knew instantly what it was, but it was what it meant that startled me. The beacon was from the trains which run between Ollantaytambo and Agaus Calientes, the base town for Machu Picchu. I looked out over the edge of the trail in the hopes of seeing Machu Picchu, but it was hopelessly lost in the clouds. But I now knew we were close. Somewhere, below those clouds, was the lost city of the Inca’s. While contemplating this geographic revelation, I sat on a rock to wait for the others. Had I hiked for two minutes more, I would have been waiting for them in the shelter of camp. But I wasn’t to know.

The trail was now going through tropical cloud forest.

Lunch on that third day was a real treat. The heaviest rain fell while we were under the cover of the dining tent, sampling all manner of local energy-producing foods. After reemerging to drizzle, we watched several llama’s wander through camp, and then struggled to put on our rain ponchos. Tanya and Davide had the strangest technique. Davide, not wanting to wear his poncho, but needing shelter from the drizzle until we were ready to set off, took cover under Tanya’s poncho. The pair of them looked like a German-Swiss pantomime costume that was putting the cart before the horse.

Tanya and Davide performing their Swiss-German back-to-front pantomime horse trick

One of several llama to wander through our lunch camp!

While setting off again, I spoke with Andreh, and told him about how magical Machu Picchu was going to be. I shared with him the memory of the day, three years previously when I had climbed Machu Picchu with Yesi, then got on one knee and proposed when we had returned to the ruins. Andreh had a smirk on his face throughout my recollection of the event.

“Actually”, he said with his Australian twang, “I’m going to ask Carolina’s father for his blessing to marry his daughter once we get back to Lima.”

Carolina and Andreh.

This of course gave Andreh and I much to discuss, as we were both from other continents and proposing to Peruvian ladies in their homeland. Andreh shared the words he had planned for his future father-in-law, and I have to say, I rated his chances of a positive response at almost perfect. With Andreh and I chit-chatting about proposals, an hour passed on the trail. We remained blanketed in cloud through this time, hugging the jagged mountain ridge. Then, the trail literally plunged into a black hole.

“This can’t be the trail can it?”, I asked as I ventured into the unknown.

It was the Inca Tunnel, yet another marvel of ancient engineering. We slithered down into a dark passageway, which cut right through the rock, before reemerging about 25 yards further ahead. The gradient and jaggedness of the ridge had become so extreme that there was no other way of continuing the trail other than to cut through the mountain. Those Inca’s certainly were determined, ingenious and resourceful.

And then, as Andreh and I discussed how difficult it must have been to cut through rock all of six hundred years ago, quite suddenly, we arrived at probably the most spectacular view either of us had ever seen. We arrived on a bald rocky mountain top just as the heavy cloud was moving off, revealing a magnificent view of the Urubamba peaks, most of them clad in snow. Cloud lingered in the valleys, but the mountain peak panorama was breath-taking.

Ruins and beautiful views on day 3 of the Inca Trail.

View from the Inca Trail on day 3.

My phone pictures just don’t do the panoramas the justice they deserve.

Something else caught my eye. A cell phone tower! I took out my phone, called Yesi, and was delighted to hear the ringtone in New York. I had not had coverage for almost 50 hours, and I knew she would be worried. With Yesi pacified, I then called my mother in Ireland. And finally, I was able to see that Christian Eriksen had just scored a last-minute goal as Tottenham kept up their title push. An altogether productive and satisfying few minutes. But then, after taking some pictures and videos, I put my phone away and consciously breathed in the fresh mountain air as I savored the spectacular views. I really am a lucky man to have seen these wonders.

Shaun, who was disinterested in scenery throughout, had already set off on the final section of the trail. It was a decision he would later regret. As the clouds continued to roll back, revealing yet more wondrous views, Margot, Carolina, Andreh and I remained on the mountain top.

One of the many ruins on day 3 of the Inca Trail.

Once we started hiking onwards, we discovered that very quickly, the trail suddenly fell away down the mountainside in a series of spiraling steps. Vertigo raised it’s head, and I had a job keeping him at bay. A more tangible problem was the strain these incredibly steep steps were putting on the knees and hips.

“Meet the Gringo Killer”, Margot said with a sly grin. “Two more hours of steps.”

Carolina immediately struggled with the downward staircase. Myself and Adreh were not fairing much better. The couple and I had by now become good friends, and even if I had been able to descend faster, I would have stayed with Andreh to help and support Carolina. Flight after flight of sharply falling steps came into view below our feet. Thankfully, the lush vegetation which now included beautifully colored orchids, distracted us while we stopped to rest. At one particular spot, where the trail fell deeply around to the right, I made the mistake of looking into the drop. The closest relatively flat terrain was an estimated three thousand feet beneath us. It was enough to take a man’s breath away – if he had any breath!

As treacherous as the Gringo Killer steps were, the experience was quite enjoyable. We were literally descending into the jungle, on the last leg of our adventure on the Inca Trail. Day 4 promised to be a short day, when we would hike a short distance to the Sun Gate overlooking Machu Picchu. But day three wasn’t done with it’s revelations just yet. An hour into the Gringo Killer, the trail leveled out to cross one of the dozens of terraces on Into Pata (Sunny Slope); an Inca ruin of gigantic proportions, which cascaded down the steep mountainside. From the terrace we could once again pick out the Urubamba River, and the trains puffing alongside it as they hauled the less adventurous Machu Picchu explorers to and from the ancient city. Again, the views were spectacular.

Groups hiking the Inca Trail normally pose here for a group photo. But most of our group had already hiked ahead!

Andreh admiring the mountain scenery.

The last ruin we encountered that day was Wiñay Wayna. When Margot translated the Quechua name as ‘Forever Young’ I was delighted with it’s symbolism. Arrival at this complex settlement from the Inca days heralded the end of the third day – a hike of 24km through the Andes on difficult terrain. Reaching the end of the day was effectively completing the most challenging sections of the Inca Trail. As the oldest member of our group, the satisfaction brought by treading through Wiñay Wayna was immense. The difference with this ruin was that we had to like down through the terraces to get to our overnight camp. I led the way on what was without doubt the longest flight of steeps I have ever descended.

So many ruins on day 3 of the Inca Trail.

The final ruins of the day. It may not look it, but the steps down through those terraces were very long and very steep!

At the bottom, we regrouped and rested, before hiking through one final section of jungle and arriving into camp. We were greeted by Shaun, who was in an even more neurotically cranky mood than usual. His mission to get to camp quickly had worked. In fact, it had worked so well that he had arrived before camp had been set up, and had to stand waiting in the rain for our tent to be erected. He was wet, cold and hungry. Somehow, I was the brunt of his displeasure.

“Well,” he blurted out, “as long as you got to talk to your wife and mother that totally helps me to dry my clothes!”

It was bizarre. My phone calls had little to do with his plight. Had he remained with us longer on the mountain top, not only could he have got to experience the best of the views when the clouds had rolled back, but he would also have arrived into a dry camp. There was little point in trying to explain this to him.

Shaun stomped around camp, muttering to himself, throwing dirty glances at the rest of the group, and generally being a disruption to what had been a wonderful day. For a moment I wanted to slap, and tell him to grow up. Then I glanced over towards Davide and Tanya, who had also hiked ahead to camp, and who were also wet and cold. But they were still smiling. In that moment, I realized the futility of allowing Shaun’s neuroticism to affect my own mood. Wherever we go, whether it be on the subway at Times Square, on a flight, at the movies or even to the top of the Andes, there will always be people like Shaun. I took a breath and made a conscious effort to ignore him, and to concentrate on enjoying the remainder of my Inca Trail experience.

Our excellent guide Margot – guide, medic, motivator and even peacekeeper!

With Shauns tantrum continuing and threatening to cast a thorny atmosphere over dinner, Margot stepped in to nullify the situation. In time, Shaun saw the error of his own ways, and so we all sat down to enjoy our meal with unity restored. As this was our last meal together, we chipped in money to a kitty to be presented to the porters as a tip to show our gratitude for their efforts. Those men are the heroes of the mountain; carrying tents, chairs, tables and cooking equipment on their backs for hours on end. Sometimes their burden weighs up to fifty pounds, but they charge ahead without complaining.

When dinner had ended, the porters introduced themselves one by one, thanking us for our generous tips. It was a nice way to round of the day, even though we all agreed that we felt a tinge of guilt. Our relatively small offering (by 1st world standards) of $50 each had meant so much to these local men and their families. We all speculated how much of the price we had paid to hike the Inca Trail would filter down to these men as wages. It seemed as though the tips constituted the majority of their income. I wished I had been able to give more.

After dinner, we quickly headed off to bed. Day 4, our final day on the Inca Trail, would begin with a 3am alarm call. But what a day it promised to be! We would complete the trail by hiking to the Sun Gate for a dawn entry, and then enter the lost city of Machu Picchu.

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!

Pushing Limits Beyond the Comfort Zone

August 14th 2015 is a date I will never forget. After climbing Machu Picchu Mountain, I proposed to my now wife Yesi at the lost city of the Inca’s. But earlier, at the top of the mountain, I became stuck on a narrow stone ledge, while Yesi climbed up a near vertical stairway to the summit. Fear prevented me from going further. That day, as I huddled against the rock face waiting for Yesi to come back down from the summit, I stared out over Machu Picchu, to the high snowy peaks of the Urubamba Mountains beyond. There was so much to see and explore. Yet I thought I could never overcome my fear of heights.

Three years later, by pushing limits and going beyond my comfort zone, I scaled those very peaks by hiking the 4-day Classic Inca Trail. By doing so, I learned that obstacles can be overcome, and goals, no matter how far away they seem, can be reached.

I was stuck on a ledge on Machu Picchu mountain, unable to get to the summit.

The snowy peaks of the Urubamba Mountains reaching for the clouds. They represented a non-achievable goal in 2015.

The fear that gripped me on that narrow ledge on Machu Picchu Mountain was rooted in a lack of self-confidence and awareness; the result of a life spent looking down not up. The fear was born out of negativity. Pushing limits at that time was not on my agenda. I was in a comfort zone, telling myself I was not capable of going beyond.

Pushing Limits on the Inca Trail

But on December 14th 2018, I scaled ‘Dead Woman’s Pass‘ on the Inca Trail. In doing so, I got to 14.000 feet – over six thousand feet above that ledge where I had been stuck. It was an absolutely unforgettable experience to be so high above the clouds, and so far above the point where I previously felt so much fear.

High above the clouds, at 14,000 feet on the Inca Trail

Seeing beauty which I previously thought I would not get to see

Seeing such beauty, and knowing that I had challenged my fears and worked hard to get there was a magical moment. The only thing that has changed since being stuck on that ledge is my attitude. In 2015, I was looking down, to where I had come from. Now, my natural inclination is to look up. The things that have made all the difference are meditation, and the use of mindfulness to stay in the present moment, where fear cannot penetrate.

Meditation allows me (or anyone else) to set about pushing limits by muting the many negative thoughts which give rise to self doubt and fear. Our natural state of being is not based on negativity and fear. We place these obstacles in front of ourselves due to a lack of awareness. Meditation allows us to see that we have an innate ability (hence my business name In8 Motivation) to achieve great things.

Pushing Limits With Mindfulness

When we learn to use mindfulness to stay in the present moment, we see the world in a completely different way. It’s the same world, the same mountain, the same ledge, the same drop; but we see it through different eyes. This applies to adventures, our careers, relationships, health and so much more. This forms the basis of the Mindfulness and Motivation workshops I deliver in New York City.

Fear lives in the past and the future. When we position ourselves in the present, we can naturally measure our ability, and see that we can achieve much more than our negative self would allow us to believe. Dead woman’s pass is not Everest, but it is 6,000 feet above the point where I sat crippled by fear just three years earlier. That is tangible progress. I’m proud of what I achieved on the Inca Trail, with its high passes, steep rugged steps and many narrow ledges. But I am especially happy to discover once again that meditation is the fuel for motivation to grow as a person and achieve goals. Pushing limits allows us to see the world in a different way. Fear loses it’s potency when challenged by a fully motivated, fully positive mindset.

Pushing Limits With Shared Positivity

Over 4 years ago I embarked on a process of self improvement through meditation and positive thinking. I am inspired by many things and many people. In 2016, after I cycled on Trans-Atlantic Cycle across America, Liam Porter penned a motivational poem inspired by myself and Jason Black called Life Cycle.

‘Life Cycle’ – An inspirational poem by Liam Porter

The funny thing is, that poem, which I have stuck to the refrigerator in our apartment in New York, inspires me every day. Liam followed it up in 2018 with another poem called Magic, which speaks of goal setting, pushing limits and the rewards that come with being proactively engaged in personal development. There is an important message revealed in those poems. Positivity towards goal setting and pushing limits is a phenomenal force when shared. Liam said I inspired him, yet he also inspires me. That is the power of shared positivity. Try it!

‘Magic’ – A poem about motivation and perseverance towards achieving goals, by Liam Porter

Pushing Limits And A More Fulfilling Life

Dwelling in negativity and accepting less than what we are capable of is a toxic quagmire. By pushing limits in terms of our thinking and our willingness to share positivity, we can not only feel better about ourselves and others, but we can achieve so many great things. Shared positivity, meditation and pushing limits can propel us towards new levels, where life becomes so much more fulfilling. I am going to keep looking up with a positive mindful attitude – who knows what will come next. Well, I already know, but Im not telling you yet!

There is a beautiful feeling of serenity at the spectacular former Incan city of Machu Picchu. The long road through the Andes to this remote paradise is not so well acclaimed, but is also very special. This is a journey unlike any you will ever have undertaken before, and it will stay with you forever. Getting to the jewel of the Sacred Valley can be costly and time consuming, but it is a journey which is to be enjoyed rather than endured. This is my 6-part travelogue, revealing the highlights of the road to Machu Picchu, including Ollantaytambo.

Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes

While the small but busy Sacred Valley town of Ollantaytambo is attractive on it’s own merits, with Inca ruins and riverside setting, one amenity above all others attracts many of the visitors who pass through here; the train station.

Unless you were to go off-grid and (attempt to) hike over the towering Andes mountains, there is but one way to get to Machu Picchu; by first making the journey from Ollantaytambo to Aquas Calientes by train. Considering that up to 5,000 visitors filter through Machu Picchu on a busy day, Ollantaytambo is a very busy little place. The entire town is like a cross between a mini Machu Picchu, a souvenir shop, a cargo hanger and a travel rep’s office. Everybody, and everything that goes to Machu Picchu, must pass through here – including all food and provisions for Aguas Calientes.

We had arrived into the Sacred Valley by taxi from Cusco with just over 20 minutes to spare before our pre-booked train departure time. The road to the station, the limited drop-off point and the platform were crowded with tourists, bags, craft stalls, travel guides, goods transportation and train workers. It was a huge relief to finally board the train and find a seat. Around two minutes later, the whistle blew, and we were off!

Onboard the Inca Rail train

We were on board a train operated by Inca Rail, which had large carriage windows supplemented by overhead skylights. We were soon to discover why the rail company had the foresight to include the additional glass. As soon as we moved from the platform, we were immediately in the middle of a scenic river valley, the likes of which I have never seen before. On one side of the train, the fast flowing waters of the Urubamba River race right by the tracks, and on the other side, the tiny patchwork of fields very quickly give way to the sometimes almost vertical walls of The Sacred Valley. The views are simply spectacular.

Train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes

The tree-lined Urubamba River Valley

Everyone in our carriage was mesmerized by the passing scenery. Everyone that is except for a Brazilian tourist who was sitting on the opposite side of the table from me. Having seen my Tottenham Hotspur shirt, he was determined to strike up a soccer centered conversation. So much so, that he proceeded to lay the shirt of his preferred team out on the table, and insist that I photograph it, with said Brazilian beaming in the background. I obliged, and quickly returned to admiring the views. I love Tottenham, and soccer, but these views were too amazing to miss!

My Brazilian soccer friend

The train ride takes approximately 90 minutes, with the return leg lasting a full 2 hours. The additional 30 minutes can be accounted for by the fact that this is the Andes, and even though the train line is on what you would think is a relatively flat bed, Peruvian logic still holds true: when you are traveling you are either going uphill or downhill. We were currently moving downhill, following the banks of the Urubamba River. I tried to imagine how powerful the force of this water must be when the river is in flood.

I get a lot of thought stimulation from water, which I think is a welcome byproduct of my love of the ocean, waves and rugged coastlines. I see symbolism in water, and it really helps me to become aware of the present moment. So it occurred to me, that this part of the river valley would often suddenly experience a raging torrent, even if it had not rained in this particular section. The flood would quickly arrive from upstream. I reasoned that in life, the same scenario can occur. In a butterfly effect, even if we are serene and calm ourselves, someone else’s actions can send a sudden and unexpected torrent our way. Just as the people in The Sacred Valley have strategically placed boulders by the banks while the water was low, preparing in advance of the flood, we too can brace ourselves by building strong defenses when there is calmness. Knowing ourselves, and understanding our reactions is one of the keys to wellbeing. Often, our troubles can come not from our own actions, but from our reaction to someone else’s action. At that moment, upon such a realization, I felt completely at peace. Somehow, the Urubamba River had shown me how to be focused and aware, how to enjoy this moment, yet to use this peaceful time to ensure that I would completely enjoy Machu Picchu.

Traveling by train deep into the wilderness

The sides of the valley are as fascinating as the river itself. Having approached from Cusco, we had traversed agricultural uplands. But now we had entered into a region of Peru which has more in common with the Amazonian jungle terrain on the other side of the Andes. The steep walls of the valley are almost completely covered with tress, resulting in the sharpest gradient of leafy canopy imaginable. Sporadic clouds hover overhead; high above the train, yet still a long way beneath the snow capped peaks of the surrounding mountain range.

Inca Rail en route to Machu Picchu

Down and around we went, steadily venturing deeper and deeper into the very heart of this timeless terrain, moving further away from the busy world. I pondered what this journey must have been like in previous centuries. It is little wonder that Machu Picchu remained unseen during the Spanish Conquistador’s foray into this region of South America. The valley walls are impossibly steep. In the days before planes and railways, even if for some reason the Spanish had decided to trek all the way along this bank, or raft down the river itself, Machu Picchu would not have revealed itself. The walls supporting the Inca city look just like the walls all along the entire journey. Furthermore, the terraced nature of Machu Picchu’s construction means that from up high, the river is clearly visible, but from the depths of the river valley looking upwards, Machu Picchu, blends into the wilderness like a chameleon.

Small potato field by the rail track

Even Hiram Bingham, the inquisitive American academic who finally discovered Machu Picchu and revealed it’s secret’s to the world in 1911, was apparently only able to do so having first being given guidance by indigenous farmers. The topography along the train road from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes, gives a strong demonstration of just how well the Inca’s chose this now famous, but once hidden treasure.

Table service onboard Inca Rail

In a world apart from Bingham’s original travel experience, we meandered effortlessly down the valley while comfortably sitting on leather upholstered seats, availing of table service, affording us the opportunity to fully marvel at this unique adventure. The train ride perfectly sets the tone for a visit to Machu Picchu. You cannot help but dream of hidden worlds and lost treasures. The clickety-clack of the train passing over the sleeps and the amazing scenery seemed to cast a mystical spell over all on board.  Time seemed to both stand still, yet pass by too quickly.

There is little in the landscape to signal the approach to the end of the line at Aguas Calientes. The town clings tightly to steep ground which is much like the rest of the valley. As the train slowed on approach, I looked through the open window to survey what lay ahead. A simple but distinctive grass roofed cafe greeted our arrival at this quaint, busy, yet very welcoming station and town. As the train finally came to a stop, my emotions were happiness, excitement and relief. I had arrived!

Distinctive grass roofed cafe at the station

Much like my fellow European explorers several centuries before me, I still had no idea where Machu Picchu was. But I knew I was close. So close now in fact, that the list of possible yet unlikely events which could have derailed this amazing trip, had now shortened considerably.

Stepping from the train onto the Aguas Calientes platform, you do so in the knowledge that you are now only one night’s sleep and a short, but ultimately very steep, bus ride away from one of the most beautiful places in the whole world. Gratitude now prevailed.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 1: Arequipa

Part 2: Arequipa to Cusco

Part 3: Cusco

Part 4: Cusco to Ollantaytambo

Part 6: Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo)

There is a beautiful feeling of serenity at the spectacular former Incan city of Machu Picchu. The long road through the Andes to this remote paradise is not so well acclaimed, but is also very special. This is a journey unlike any you will ever have undertaken before, and it will stay with you forever. Getting to the jewel of the Sacred Valley can be costly and time consuming, but it is a journey which is to be enjoyed rather than endured. This is my 6-part travelogue, revealing the highlights of the road to Machu Picchu, including Cusco.

Machu Picchu – One of the most beautiful places in the world

Cusco

Often referred to as the cultural and architectural capital of South America, Cusco was the capital of the former Inca empire, and in more recent times has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage site, attracting over 2 million visitors per year.

Sitting at almost 11,500 feet, this cosmopolitan capital of the Andes serves as the epicenter of Inca tourism. Any trip to Machu Picchu, The Sacred Valley and The Inca Trail, will include at least a passing visit to Cusco.

Having lost a day owing to being stuck in snow en route at 14,000 feet, I had only a few hours to catch a glimpse of Cusco. I arrived after sun down, and immediately took a stroll around the obvious first port of call: the Plaza de Armas. I was greeted by a statue in honor of Pachacuti, the Inca emperor for whom apparently, Machu Picchu was constructed as an Andean sanctuary.

Statue of Inca Emperor Pachacuti

I did not get much further before having to buy a chullo (traditional Peruvian hat with tassels, which made from the wool of the alpaca). I had come from the warmer climes of Arequipa in the south, and although I had gone through a snowstorm en route, the cooler temperature and rain in Cusco were something of a shock. The weather at this altitude can be unpredictable, so I would advise anyone visiting the area to prepare for four seasons.

My nocturnal ramble through the cobbled streets of old town Cusco was cut short by even heavier rain, and I made my way back to the Hotel del Inca, stopping along the way with a street vendor to buy some hot herbal tea. This brew of cocoa leafs fused with various local herbs is used for acclimatization to the altitude, and as a general health supplement. It certainly warmed me up, and possibly helped in preventing altitude sickness, but I remain skeptical about recommending it. Although the beverage is popular in South America, I have since learned that it is not legal outside of the continent owing to the raw cocoa element. Who knew.

Back at the hotel I climbed under what seemed like far too many woolen blankets, and fell into one of the best sleeps I’ve had in years. I don’t often remember dreams, but that night I dreamt that I was hiking through the Andes, discovering ancient ruins unseen by modern man. Maybe the herbal brew had some impact after all.

I awoke the following morning feeling very well rested. Pulling back the curtains, I discovered the nice surprise of seeing a beautiful view out over the neighboring rooftops to the Andes Mountains in the background. Something about that panorama made me stop and appreciate the marvelous journey that I was undertaking. I stayed with that moment, and also practiced The Paris Method, and it really set me up for a great day.

Panoramic view from the hotel room in Cusco, Peru

After breakfast I went back to the Plaza de Armas, and visited the Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of the Virgin. After almost 100 years under construction, this gothic-renaissance church was finally completed in 1654, and today not only serves as a place of worship, but as a museum for local Incan artifacts and as an art gallery. It is very well worth a visit. Just be careful not to use your camera inside, as there is a strictly enforced no-photography policy for some reason.

The old Cathedral at Plaza de Armas, Cusco, Peru

Just across the Plaza de Armas is the National University of Saint Anthony the Abbot. The notion of the university was proposed by Pope Innocent XII, supported by Spain’s King Charles II. It was eventually established in 1692 just decades after the Conquistadors had beaten the Inca’s following the Siege of Cusco. These days the university has 29 academic departments, 37 professor chairs, and amongst other disciplines, has been to the fore of research and documentation of the ancient cultures of the area, and the Andes in general.

Cobbled streets around the Plaza de Armas, Cusco, Peru

The courtyard in the National University, Cusco, Peru

My time in Cusco was unfortunately too short, but it has left me with a strong desire to return and explore the city further. It would be no stretch of the imagination to suggest that you could spend a week based in Cusco and still not see everything the city and surroundings have to offer. For now though, it was time to leave, and edge closer to Machu Picchu.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 1: Arequipa

Part 2: Arequipa to Cusco

Part 4: Cusco to Ollantaytambo

Part 5: Ollantaytambo to Aquas Calientes

Part 6: Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo)

There is a beautiful feeling of serenity at the spectacular former Incan city of Machu Picchu. The long road through the Andes to this remote paradise is not so well acclaimed, but is also very special. This is a journey unlike any you will ever have undertaken before, and it will stay with you forever. Getting to the jewel of the Sacred Valley can be costly and time consuming, but it is a journey which is to be enjoyed rather than endured. This is my 6-part travelogue, revealing the highlights of the road to Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu – One of the most beautiful places in the world

Arequipa to Cusco

It was time to leave Arequipa, so after nightfall we boarded the coach to Cusco, and set off northwards on the road to Machu Picchu shortly after 8pm. Dinner was quickly served and by 9.30pm many of the passengers were already settling down for the night. After spending some time contacting friends and family back home, I  eventually reclined my seat at around 11pm. I noticed that we were stopped, but as the engine was still running I presumed that we were going through the routine 2 hour driver change and safety checks which are mandatory in Peru. I awoke at 6.20am…almost 10 and a half hours after we had set off from Arequipa… to the news that we had made less than 2hrs headway before being stranded in a snowstorm at high altitude! In disbelief I pulled back the window curtain and the first glimmer of dawn was reflecting over a snow-covered landscape. This was not in the script.

An unexpected sight – Snowbound overnight at over 14,000 feet!

Arequipa is surrounded by 3 volcanoes. the most distinguished of which is El Misti, or ‘Señor Misti’ as he is known by the locals. Towering at over five thousand meters above the city, ‘He’ stands guard over the adoring people below. We had made it passed El Misti and the adjacent Chachani Volcano, but we were less fortunate when we had ventured deeper into the Reserva National Salinas Aguada on the Peruvian Altiplano.

Reserva National Salinas and Aguada Blanco. Image Credit: Paolo Tomaz on Flikr

Although the mountains here are not as high as El Misti or Chachani, the road weaves further up onto their slopes. To compound the problem, the hour at which we arrived on this stretch of road meant that the temperatures had dropped, and so it came to pass that we would spend 11 and a half hours sitting snowbound at almost 14,000 feet. From the moment I pulled back the window curtain and surveyed our plight, I used The Paris Method to remind myself that this was an adventure not an ordeal. I had come to South America for adventure and this was certainly going to be an adventure!

As more passengers awoke and got updated about our plight, chit chat started in various forms of broken Spanish, English, French and German. I found myself in conversation with the occupant of the coolest waistcoat and scarf I have ever seen – a German called Olaf, who was traveling through the Andes with his wife and 4 children. After having negotiated that the bus door be opened for fresh air, we continued our chat on the snow-covered roadside.  Among the first sights we saw was a Japanese tourist walking past our coach in an attempt to find out when the road would reopen. She was ankle-deep in a very high pair of bright red stilettos! It was such a surreal sight; a Japanese woman in bright red stilettos on a snow-covered Peruvian mountain at dawn.

Olaf and I laughed and traded stories about the highest altitudes we had been to. 14,000 feet on the road to Machu Picchu was a first for both of us. Had the bus kept moving the previous night, we would probably never even have known that we had been to such a height.

Yet more passengers had now woken up and joined the conversation. Annie, a French Canadian intensive care nurse who was on six month solo backpacking trek through South America, shared her biscuits and peanuts. She was the only passenger who had any sort of snacks with her. She even had oatmeal, and a pot and spork and had managed to make porridge for her breakfast. I later had a longer conversation with Annie, and she is such an inspiration. Not only did she have the wanderlust to imagine such an epic journey, but she had the determination and bravery to make her dream become a reality. You can read all about Annie’s South American odyssey here.

Annie making porridge and keeping us entertained

Not surprisingly, the conversation turned to climate change. A Peruvian onboard, who was due to be at work that morning in Cusco told us that there had been some recent similar occurrences of snow blockages on roads such as this, but that up until a few years previous, such a phenomena was unheard of. He ventured that climate change is hardly surprising considering the rate of globalization and mass tourism. Given that his soapbox audience were a German, a Norwegian, a Canadian, 2 Americans, an Australian, and an Irishman, it was hardly surprising that silence greeted the end of his offering.

In an attempt to break the silence and change the course of the conversation, someone jokingly speculated about who would eat who if we were stuck up here for much longer. Cue nervous laughter. Olaf was growing restless due to his responsibilities for the safety and comfort of his children. A passenger was by now suffering from altitude sickness. Two more were thinking about hitching a ride back to Arequipa – just how was anyones guess. There was a general mood of impatience and worry setting in. Our road to Machu Picchu was getting complicated.

I was relatively content. In fact, I was actually enjoying the randomness of this unexpected adventure. I was concentrating on keeping the current perspective in mind, and keeping my attitude right. The Paris Method was working!

By now Olaf’s teenage daughter was awake and joined us on the roadside. A pick up truck approached from the opposite direction. The young German girl recalled the basic Spanish she was learning at school, and sought an update from the pick-up driver. In a commendable multilingual display, she first gave her father the report in German before telling everyone else in English that the blockage had been caused by a road accident up ahead. Thankfully no one had been seriously injured.

The good news was that the sun had now begun to melt the snow and the road had partially reopened. An hour later, we were finally moving once again, albeit very slowly as the blockage had caused a tailback of several miles, and conditions were still difficult.

Many passengers on the coach, myself included, had by now lost a day from their Cusco and Machu Picchu itinerary. As we slowly began the slippery descent from our overnight mountain experience, I had at that time been due to take a tour of The Sacred Valley. I would still get to see the Sacred Valley, but now only partially while en route to Machu Picchu. Every cloud has a silver lining though. As we had been originally due to travel to Cusco through the night, we would not have seen the landscapes along the way. Now though, we had the pleasure of admiring the breathtaking antiplano panoramas. After an unscheduled but very welcome pitstop in the Espinar District, we all sat back and relaxed as the beautiful scenery passed by our windows. It was breathtaking, comparable to a 3d journey through a National Geographic magazine. It was the most spectacular coach journey I have ever taken, and I constantly reminded myself that I was only seeing this due to the snow storm. This proves to me that something good can always come out of something bad.

Beautiful Andean scenery in the Espinar District of Peru

Peruvian kids playing soccer in the Andes

Agriculture in the Peruvian altiplano, on the road to Cusco.

Darkness had fallen by the time we finally reached our destination; a grand total of 23 hours after we had set out from Arequipa. Although we were tired, and had lost a day from our Inca Trail itinerary, we were thankful for the fact that we had made it off the mountain unscathed, and that we had experienced such an amazing landscape on the road to Machu Picchu, from Arequipa to Cusco.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 1: Arequipa

Part 3: Cusco

Part 4: Cusco to Ollantaytambo

Part 5: Ollantaytambo to Aquas Calientes

Part 6: Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo)