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.

Setting out on the Inca Trail

The 4:30am alarm woke me with a jolt. It was then such a struggle to push back the layers of warm alpaca blankets to face the chilly Andean morning. After a quick shower and breakfast, I ventured out onto the steep streets of Cusco, Peru. The mists of another cold night at altitude were just beginning to dissipate under the relative warmth of the rising sun. This was the day that I would set out to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.

Six bleary eyed hikers were gathering near Plaza di Armis – the colonial era square at the center of town, for a dawn rendezvous. I was still very unsure what I was letting myself in for on the Inca Trail, but I knew that it was going to be epic. I took a deep  breath and told myself I was going to try to enjoy the adventure, come what may.

Shaun, Andreh, Carolina, Davide, Tanya and I setting out to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu

Among the hikers was another Irishman. I already knew his heritage, given the remnants of ginger in his predominantly grey beard, the smell of last nights beer on his breath, and his introductory remark of “Hi, I’m Shaun. Has anyone got any water?”

As our guide Margot showed up, my mind wandered back to when I first thought about this, the world’s most famous hiking trail. Three years previously, on August 14th 2015, I had been rendered motionless by vertigo, while attempting to climb Machu Picchu mountain. As I sat on a narrow stone ledge, waiting for my wife Yesi to come back down from the summit, I stared out over the lost city of the Inca’s to the high snow-capped peaks of the Urubamba mountain range. I thought those peaks were beyond me. A bridge too far. But now, in December 2018, I was clambering aboard a bus, backpack laden with supplies, setting out to hike the Inca Trail; a trail which would go to those very peaks, and which I knew would seriously challenge my fear of heights.

As the bus trundled across the high plateau between Cusco and Ollantaytambo, near the traditional Peruvian town of Chinchero, smalltalk ensued among the passengers as to our home countries and occupations. Davide was Swiss, which obviously gave him an advantage with the altitude. His German girlfriend Tanya was also an avid hiker/climber. My fellow Irishman was originally from Connecticut, but had moved to Montana via Colorado and Oregon; inspired to take emergency room nursing jobs wherever there are mountains and snow. The couple at the front of the bus remained silent. The girl was Latina, and her companion remained largely hidden behind dark Ray Ban sunglasses and a slouch hat.

At Ollantaytambo we picked up a couple of porters; local men who would carry the tents and prepare meals. The six eclectic hikers used the stop to purchase all manner of drinks, energy bars and coca leaves – the age old antidote for altitude sickness. These leafs may even have helped the Inca’s build such intricate structures at high altitudes. I took the opportunity to buy a spare rain poncho and some toilet paper. Those would prove to be inspired decisions.

After leaving town, our bus turned onto a dirt road which ran alongside the train tracks and followed the Urubamba River downstream towards Machu Picchu. The further into the river valley we ventured, the higher the mountains rose. My heart raced every time I thought about what the Inca Trail may involve. But I repeatedly reminded myself that the challenge was going to be an adventure.

We came to a stop in a parking lot at Kilometer 82, where all of the gear was laid out on a plastic tarp. A sleeping bag and ground sheet were placed beside each bag. My green backpack, generously loaned by my cousin Eileen, who had hiked the Camino de Santiago that summer, already looked incredible bulky. When I attached the sleeping bag and mattress, the total weight was a mind numbing 15 kilos (33lbs). I already knew what that would mean physically while out on the trail.

Two years previously, when I had cycled across America, I had decided against regimental training. But back then I was in better shape. All I really needed to do was to prepare mentally, and I had done just that, to great affect. But now, after two years of life in New York, I was showing all the signs of my love affairs with pizza, bagels, and Dunkin Donuts.

At kilometer 82 – the outset of the Inca Trail

As everyone got their gear together, Tanya snapped me against the backdrop of the glacial-capped Mt Veronica. I hadn’t yet hiked a yard of the Inca Trail, but I was already loving the spectacular mountain views.

The sun was by now well up in the sky; it’s strength all too obvious on my skin. At altitude, the temperature may not rise very high, but given the clear skies and thin air, the impact of the rays can be punishing. It was by now time to swing my green backpack onto one shoulder. Doing so almost knocked me off my feet. It was an almighty weight. As I staggered off after those who had already departed, I closed my eyes in a moment of conscious gratitude that my adventure on the Inca Trail had finally begun.

Setting out on the Inca Trail

The little group of intrepid hikers slithered single file down onto the railway tracks, then crossed a precarious footbridge over the Urubamba River and onto the Inca Trail. For the first couple of hours I took up the rear. The porters were long since gone, hastily making progress so that they would have time to set up camp for lunch. To the fore was Shaun, seemingly on a mission to blaze a trail to Machu Picchu. He was closely followed by Davide and Tanya. In the middle of the procession, Margot, issued instructions about “taking it easy” and pointed out the local landmarks and fauna. Following Margot were the couple whom I now knew to be Carolina, a Peruvian law graduate living in Sydney, and her Australian boyfriend Andreh. They would turn out to be a lovely couple who I became great friends with. Being in their company made the arduous hike a whole lot more enjoyable. But for now, I deliberately lagged even further behind, wanting to soak up the experience without words.

The trail, for a few miles at least, was very conducive to the mindful meditative process. As we followed the river downstream, the path rose only marginally onto the hillside. The views were beautiful; the atmosphere tranquil. During those first few hours I admired the fauna which overhung the path, including all manner of bizarrely shaped cacti. I also used this time to motivate myself by repeating mantra’s. I knew that the Inca Trail, with it’s many perils and hardships, would only be conquered using a mind over matter approach.

A Cactus along the Inca Trail

With the sun now directly overhead, we slowly began to turn uphill onto the mountainside. Up ahead, the others had come to a stop. Margot was pointing down to the river bank far below, where the first Inca ruin of the trail was to be seen snuggled against the foot of the mountain. From our vantage point, the ancient ruin almost looked like a Lego model. After we had restarted the hike, I once again lagged behind. I was busy working on my mindful strategy.

At around 1pm we began for the first time to seriously climb onto the mountain. A little stream of crystal clear snowmelt water flowed down the mountainside, destined to join the Urubamba, which was by now far below us.

After another hour of contemplative uphill hiking, we reached a little grassy patch where we had lunch. The cooking and dining tents were already set up; the welcome aroma of hot soup wafting through the thin air. Truth be told, on the final ascent to the lunch camp, I had begun to struggle under the weight of my backpack and the unrelenting sun. I was thankful for the food and the opportunity to rest.

Our lunch camp on day one of the Inca Trail

Lunch, while simple, was delicious and the perfect fuel for hiking at altitude. It was supplemented by fresh bread and hot coca tea. With our break over, the porters quickly packed away the make-shift cafeteria and were once again out on the trail ahead of us, scurrying off to set up our second and final camp of the day.

As the afternoon wore on, the gradient increased. So too did my discomfort. With each added degree, my progress slowed. Now, I lagged behind the others more out of circumstance than choice. The most worrying thing about day one on the Inca Trail was that any information I had seen, showed day one to be relatively flat. Relatively, because virtually nothing in Peru is flat. If this was the flat day, I shuddered to think what the notoriously difficult days two and three would bring. While contemplating this unnecessary and unmindful quandary, the dusty trail suddenly gave way to a series of stone steps, which seemingly rose up into the clouds. Given their irregular surfaces and heights, the steps represented an added challenge. And still we climbed.

Rising into the Urubamba Mountains on the Inca Trail

Late in the afternoon, we again came alongside the mountain stream.  The pace of the water had quickened, evidence that we were by now on sharper gradients. After following the stream uphill for a time, we crossed over it on a rickety bridge, and arrived in to a little hamlet which sat nestled into a crevice in the mountainside. Behind the simple farm laborers cottages, our tents awaited our arrival, already set up on a grassy shelf. Given that there were two couples among the six hikers, I would be sharing a tent with Shaun. How strange I thought, to share a tent with someone I had only met earlier that morning.

After a delicious supper and a pep talk from Margot, we brushed our teeth, had a wet-wipes shower, and prepared our beds for the night. As we did so, the skies darkened overhead. It was the beginning of rainy season in the Cusco region, and the first deluge now seemed imminent. We watched as heavy slow moving clouds hung over Dead Woman’s Pass – the 14,000ft mountain which lay in wait for us on day two. Thankfully, we got lucky. The rain held off until we were safely in our tents. Wet gear at the start of a hike does not easily dry, if at all.

A mongrel pup, who at first appeared friendly, but who quickly became annoying, was obviously the self-appointed camp guard. As darkness fell on the mountain, he proceeded to bark out incessant warnings to any as yet unseen raiders of the night.

Shaun tossed and turned and complained about the noise, his new mattress and how much he regretted getting drunk on the night before the hike. I rolled my fleece into an improvised pillow, zipped up my sleeping bag and within a minute was headed for sleep. The first day was over, and it had left me physically drained. But as I dozed off to sleep, I silently congratulated myself for making it through day one on the Inca Trail. I also congratulated myself for being able to enjoy the experience.

Day Two – Dead Woman’s Pass

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!

Succeed by putting Success in Perspective

For many people, success is like the proverbial carrot on a stick, or like the tail to a chasing dog – it is something that we instinctively chase, but never quite seem to catch. In truth, this philosophy renders the pursuit of success a recipe for failure. When we put success in perspective and realize that achievement is defined by ourselves and not by others, we can not only succeed, but we can gain peace and contentment.

In August 2015 I travelled to Arequipa, Peru. I then made the long trip north towards Cusco, from where I travelled by train down the Rio Urubamba Valley to Aguas Calientes. The final destination was of course the amazing Inca site at Machu Picchu. Visitors to the world famous site have a number of choices regarding how they will spend the 6 or 7 hours they have on site. Most people simply potter around the ruins. Others trek towards the sun gate. Some visit the Moon Temple and climb Huayna Picchu, which is the sugar loaf mountain that provides the backdrop for the iconic Machu Picchu photographs. We chose the Machu Picchu Mountain option, which involves climbing over 2,500 stone steps to an overall altitude of 10,111 feet, which overlooks the entire site.

The view over Machu Picchu from half way up the steps of Machu Picchu Mountain

The climb is quite challenging; for although it is stepped all the way, and does not exceed forty five degrees in gradient, it does involve constant climbing and is a real endurance test given the semi-jungle landscape and the effects of such exertion at altitude. Unlike a mountain climb where you are generally on your own or in a small group, several hundred people climb the steps at the same time, so even stopping to draw breath is difficult as you would be holding up those behind you. At a couple of spots where there are openings in the thick vegetation, there is the oppurtunity to step aside to have a snack and admire the views; but it is generally a fairly constant two and a half hour slog up the uneven steps.

Having passed through a stone arched gateway, the approach to the summit becomes narrowed and gradually steeper. Eventually the path rounds several large boulders, and seemingly comes to an abrupt end on a narrow ledge which acts as a balcony from where the visitor is not only treated to an astounding view of the lost city, but of the valleys and mountain peaks of the extended Andes region. It is completely breathtaking. Like most people who climb Machu Picchu Mountain, I paused in amazement as I took in the memorizing panorama.

And then my old acquaintance came back to haunt me…

My trip to South America had been a bolt from the blue. Or more to the point, a bolt from the black. A year previously, I had taken a heavy tumble from a bike, and had been through nerve pain, concussion and was at the time suffering from heightened levels of anxiety. It was all manageable with medication, but it all still had limits. The ledge is approximately 50 feet in length and perhaps only 4 feet wide. At the far side of the ledge, a rough flight of steps with no handrail points towards the sky. These steps must be scaled to reach the top of the mountain. The longer I rested up on that ledge, the more I realized that the steps were a bridge too far for me at that particular time.

Once I had started to realize that the steep flight of steps were more than I could handle, I was crestfallen. Feelings of failure emerged. I knew I had an issue with the steps, and the more I tried to coax myself onwards by forcing myself to face them, the more my anxiety grew. In fact, the anxiety was growing to the point where even remaining on the ledge was becoming problematic. I told my climbing partner that I was going no further; that I would stay here while they went ahead to the summit. They tried to encourage me, but it was pointless – I had reached my summit. Eventually they went ahead, and I sat on a rock at the opposite side of the ledge from the steps. Instead of admiring the view, my eyes were transfixed on those steps, and I was feeling very sorry for myself. And that is where and when things started to change…

While sitting on a ledge above Machu Picchu, I realized that I could define my own summit, and enjoy the view

While sitting on that ledge feeling sorry for myself, I stared out forlornly over the view. And then it hit me. Why on earth was I sad, when I was so lucky to be in this beautiful location? It was only then that I really started to fully appreciate the view. Until then, it was simply a stop along the way to something else, instead of being a beautiful place in its own right. I started to realize that the only reason that I had been sad was because I would not be going to the top of the mountain. But this was someone else’s goal; someone else’s idea of success. As it turned out, the summit wasn’t much higher, and if anything, I was to spend the next hour or so in a much more enjoyable place than the overcrowded peak just beyond those steps. And the calm feeling I experienced up provided the inspiration to start writing about the whole experience. For me, by putting success in perspective, just getting to that ledge was already an incredible achievement. By appreciating the views and the tranquility on that ledge, I realized that what I had thought was a failure was actually a blessing in disguise. It gave me the time, space and perspective to appreciate just how far I had come.

The road up the mountain from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu

I had overcome a fear of flying to cross the Atlantic to New York, and leave there on an even longer flight to Lima, where I connected to yet another flight to Arequipa. (Thanks must go to Alison Clarke of Fearless Flying for helping me to get onboard those planes). From Arequipa, the journey to Cusco had involved a 23 hour bus trip and getting snowbound overnight on a volcano at just over 14,000 feet. Even the bus ride up the treacherously steep dirt road from Aguas Calientes to the entrance of Machu Picchu had been a case of challenging my anxiety. And now, here I was, a further 2000 feet further up the mountain, overlooking not just the citadel of Machu Picchu, but the surrounding mountain peaks. I was perched on perhaps the best viewing point in the Andes, at 10, 100 feet. Not bad for someone who had spent the previous months suffering from anxiety, and a fear of flying and heights.

After stopping to put perspective into how far I had already come, all anxiety left me and I enjoyed my time on the ledge

Instead of looking at the short distance to the summit with a feeling of failure, I looked at the 10,000 kilometers I had already scaled with a feeling of satisfaction and success. Finding this perspective, not only brought about a beautiful feeling of awareness up on that ledge, but it changed the outcome of the day, the remainder of my South American odyssey and in many ways it also changed my life. Had I stayed with the feeling of failure, I would have been in sullen mood for the rest of the trip. But by marking my own summit, and labelling it as a success, I came down the mountain in a much better place emotionally.

Sometimes we have goals, which are unachievable. We only set these goals because we are matching what others are aiming for. While success and goal setting are admirable pursuits, if we set a goal based on someone else’s dream or ability, and we fail to achieve it, then we are only making ourselves feel inadequate and ultimately unhappy. We need to set our own goals. We need to measure our own success. Success comes from the realization of our own goals, not from recognition from others if we match their goals. I now use this philosophy in each and every aspect of my life, and I am much more in tune with the achievements of what I can do, rather than the fear of disappointment at what I cannot do. In fact, I don’t see any activity in my life as a failure now. By putting success in perspective, I can always find an echo of success in what other people would consider to be a failure.

The whole experience made me look at things differently. Im pretty sure that if I had made it to the top of that mountain, that my ego and pride would have ratcheted up a notch, and I would have subconsciously set myself an even higher target as a measure of how successful I would be if I scaled an even higher peak. I am now grateful that I did not make it. I am grateful that I felt that disappointment and feeling of failure, because I got to challenge it and discover that putting success in perspective is much more rewarding than constantly elevating my expectations to what others would deem to be successful.

On a ledge over 10,000 feet up in the Andes, peering out over Machu Picchu

Aguas Calientes is the last stop on the long road to Machu Picchu. Only a near-vertical hairpin dust road stands between the town and the Inca ruin, which is towering somewhere overhead, high above the clouds. Recently renamed Machu Picchu Pueblo, it is a very picturesque town with character and Inca tradition in abundance.

Incan fridge magnets in the craft market at Aguas Calientes, Peru

We had arrived into the station aboard an Inca Rail service, which had taken us on a scenic journey through the Urubamba River Valley. The first five minutes in Aguas Calientes are a bit of a fluster. Transitioning from dreamily weaving through dramatic scenery, to the crowded platforms of the little train station comes as a shock. You arrive along with several hundred other travelers, and immediately meet the same numbers standing in line, waiting to make the return journey. Add to this the unloading of all of the towns supplies, a few dozen canvassing travel reps and a maze of stalls selling crafts and souvenirs, and the result is quite the bottle-necked bazar.  Thankfully it wasn’t long until we saw a young woman holding up a card with our names on it, and so we happily trudged off, tracing her steps through the crowd.

Hand made jewelry in the craft market at Aguas Calientes, Peru

After walking through what seemed like the worlds largest, and most tightly packed craft market, we emerged onto the streets of the little town. We crossed a metal foot bridge, which spans a ravine, containing a crystal clear stream which was in full flood. We would later discover that a great secret lay further up the ravine. A rain shower passed over. The locals popped up umbrellas; obviously as accustomed to regular showers as this visiting Irishman. Turning right at the other side of the bridge, we joined a narrow street, and started climbing. There are no gentle gradients here. If you are going uphill, then it will be steep!

Shelter from the rain at Aguas Calientes

It came as a great relief when we checked in to our hotel and got to leave our bags down and go freshen up. And then, it was off to explore. Our first port of call was The Rasta Bar, where the upstairs floor did its best to convince us that it was actually a slide and not a restaurant floor. Maybe the earth moves here, Im not sure. Anyway, it was great preparation for getting around this quaint and sloping town. A quick lunch and several games of Jenga later (the town seems to have a fascination with Jenga), we were rolling downhill once again to the hotel.

On the hotel manager’s recommendation, we made a visit to to the town’s famous thermal spa, which is a short walk up into the ravine. I would imagine that Aguas Calientes may not be very pleasant for those with restricted mobility. The streets are very steep and narrow, and there are no taxi’s that I saw. We walked uphill, until the street gave way to a lovely path which followed the course of the ravine. After a couple of hundred yards, we arrived at the thermal spas which give the town its name (Aguas Calientes – ‘Hot Waters’ in Spanish).

The mountain stream at Aguas Clients

Thermal Spa high in the Andes

It is a magnificent experience to step into one of 3 hot outdoor pools, in a jungle ravine, high up in the Andes. There are people from all over the world here, just chilling out. You can order cocktails from the spa. This was exactly what I needed after 2 long days on the road from Arequipa! I laid back, and watched through the verdant overhead jungle vegetation, as the sky darkened towards nightfall. It was bliss. After being a little stressed with the busy train station and the crowded fuss on the platform, I was happy to have had this opportunity to relax and get back to myself. Something as simple as a busy train station may have been enough to trigger a lowering of tolerance, a lack of patience or a lack of awareness. That is all it can take. I was really happy to have this spa experience, which I used to get myself back on track.

Central plaza at Aguas Calientes, Peru

The spa had perked me up, restoring my energy, so afterwards we walked down towards the little central plaza near the train station. By chance we hooked up with other members of the wedding party who we had last seen on the snow-bound bus trip from Arequipa, and they led us to a bar where the remainder of the party were having drinks. We then had an impromptu group dinner which was an unexpected treat. Someone suggested having Cuy. I had read about this with both curiosity and trepidation. Pronounced ‘kwee’ it is essentially what we know in Europe as Guinea Pig. I played safe by ordering steak.

Architect-standard Jenga!

I had agreed with fellow traveller Tino, that I would share his Cuy. When it arrived, I had other ideas. The plate was set down and had the animals head and 4 legs dangling over the edges. I am normally open to trying new foods when I travel, but it took me around 20 minutes to accept a fork full. I chewed. But I could not bring myself to swallow. I just couldn’t get the idea of rodents out of my mind. I ran out onto the street and spat it out. A local having a smoke at a bar door laughed and asked: ‘Cuy?’ After I had emptied my mouth I said ‘si’. It probably tastes ok, but it just looks wrong.

Among the wedding after-party were 4 or 5 friends of the bride who had all met at Architecture college. The Jenga started again, this time on a whole different level! It occurred to me that maybe the reason Jenga is so popular here is that everyone is so enthralled by the construction of the ancient city up above us. Tino and another guy from Hawaii, were thankful that I wasn’t going to share the Cuy, and so they proceeded to devour the whole serving. To my horror, the piece de resistence was the animals head, which they shared. Apparently it is a great custom in this part of South America. Architect-standard Jenga kept me distracted, otherwise I may have been sick.

Yes, thats the Cuy head :/

We said our goodbyes and made our way back to our hotels. The others had arrived the previous night, and had therefore seen Machu Picchu already. But I was buzzing with anticipation for the trip the next morning. I found it hard to sleep. The alarm was set for 5am, and I got into that situation where when you think about how little time you have to sleep, you reduce your chances of sleeping. To solve this, I brought myself back to a Wild Atlantic Way experience I had back in Donegal the previous January. Visiting the ocean, or even thinking about a visit, always calms me, and I soon fell asleep, under about 6 Incan blankets. Thankfully, the Cuy did not visit me in my dreams.

At 6am we left our hotel and strolled down the streets towards the station. Busses commence at 6.30am, and I was shocked to see that there was already a long line. As Aguas Calientes began to start its day, we boarded a bus and took what is without doubt the most hair-raising road trip I have ever been on. The distance traveled, as the crow flies, is not far. Probably 2 miles at most. You are basically driving up into the sky, turning around hairpin after hairpin on a bumpy, narrow dust road. The Urubamba river looks smaller and smaller with every turn. I closed my eyes when we met a bus coming down the mountain. It just didn’t look possible to pass by each other on this narrow ledge. We took the inside and the rear view mirror clipped an overhanging branch. My eyes popped open to see the other bus whizzing past ours – both drivers smiling and waving at each other. I was seriously looking forward to getting off this bus. I would advise anyone with a fear of heights, to avoid the window seat while traveling up to Machu Picchu. As nervous as I was, I was still very excited. We rounded one final hairpin, and came to a stop in a tiny bus park. At last! After traveling the long but scenic road from Arequipa, we had finally arrived at Machu Picchu!

The almost vertical hairpin road to Machu Picchu

It was still not yet 7am and already there was a line at the ticket office/security check. But we had arrived! I took a deep breath and took a moment to myself, to ensure that I would enjoy every minute of this visit. I knew that a great adventure lay ahead. Passing through the entrance, the first sunbeams of the rising sun lit up the world famous ruins. It was a sight that made ever mile of the arduous journey worthwhile. Yes, even the hairpin road part. The peace and beauty is almost tangible up here in the Andes. The picture cover of my childhood South America encyclopedia had come to life.

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 Chinchero.

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

Cusco to Ollantaytambo

The anticipation and excitement ahead of the onward journey to Machu Picchu is probably the only thing that softens the disappointment you feel when it is time to leave Cusco. The capital of the Andes has a strong magnetic lure, and leaves you wanting more. But it was time to leave, and head further north. Further into the Andes. And closer still to Machu Picchu.

The journey from Cusco to the wonderfully named Sacred Valley town of Ollantaytambo takes approximately 90 minutes. Although the city stands at over 11,500ft, and Machu Picchu is at a lower altitude, the road ascends further on the first section of the trip. This is because Ollantaytambo, and The Sacred Valley are on the other side of a vast upland plateau which must be traversed. From the centre of Cusco, the road corkscrews up through some of the city’s poorest neighborhoods, notably Los Huertos and Chanachayoc, where stereotypical South American shanty huts cling to the steep hillside.

Young woman in poorer district of northern Cusco, Peru

Selling bananas on the street at Los Huertos, Cusco, Peru

Woman in Chanachayoc District of Cusco, Peru

After tipping over the top of the mountain, the road then descends for several miles, before eventually flattening out as it crosses the magnificent Anta Plateau. This is home to some of Peru’s finest agricultural lands.

The town of Chinchero, at an altitude of 14,500 feet, is of particular interest, for it is here that a window into South America’s ancient past can be seen. The town’s 15,000 strong population, their language and culture, are almost entirely of Quechuan descent, which predates the Spanish conquistadors, and even the Incan empire. The townspeople can still be seen wearing traditional attire, and the area is noted for it’s self sufficiency and handmade arts and craft markets. There are also many Incan sites in the locality which are of great cultural significance.

The road through Chinchero district, near Cusco, Peru

Two ladies in traditional attire, waiting for a bus at Chinchero, near the city of Cusco in Peru.

Having lost a day on the trip due to being stuck in snow at high altitude en route from Arequipa, my tour guide had arranged for a taxi to take us on this journey as opposed to the tour bus as originally planned. As with many of the aspects of the trip, the contingency plan actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because we now had not only a driver, but a personal guide. The taxi driver, an amicable man called Aurturo, had great pride in his home region and was happy to discuss the points of interest along the route.

After telling me about all of the traditional culture in Chinchero, Aurturo then told me that the adjacent plateau is the site of a planned new international airport which will completely open up the area to yet more tourists. By 2025 people living near a major airport will be able to fly to within an hour of Machu Picchu and The Sacred Valley. We had a constructive debate about the merits of this development.

The agricultural plateau near Chinchero, soon to be home to Cusco International Airport

There is no doubt that the huge new international airport will bring more tourists to Machu Picchu, and create business opportunities for locals. But it will also dilute the ancient and unique ambience of Chinchero, filter people away from Cusco, put Machu Picchu itself under logistical strain and deprive visitors such as myself of seeing the beautiful panoramas on the more remote roads through the Andes.

Sill, progress is progress. Aurturo welcomed the news, but later admitted that this opinion was from a business perspective. He revealed that he may have plans to operate a private bus company to engage with the expected international tour operators. The airport project is being funded mostly by German and Brazilian venture capitalists. In truth, while progress is to be welcomed, I felt sad that Chinchero, one of the last fully authentic towns in the area, may soon be transformed in the name of globalization and mass tourism.

Arriving in The Sacred Valley, in the Andes Mountain range Peru en route to Machu Picchu

Having crossed the massive plateau, we finally came within sight of the Sacred Valley, and began the hair-raising descent through a series of corkscrews into Urubamba, the town which shares it’s name with the river which flows through the valley in the direction of Machu Picchu. The last leg of the trip, was to follow the river northwards for several miles to the small but bustling town of Ollantaytambo, where along with many other backpackers and tourists, we would take the iconic train journey to Aquas Calientes. By now, the excitement of approaching Machu Picchu was making it almost impossible to fully enjoy the surroundings along the route.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 1: Arequipa

Part 2: Arequipa to Cusco

Part 3: Cusco

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, 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, including Arequipa.

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

Arequipa

From my home in Letterkenny, County Donegal, Ireland, I had taken a bus to Dublin Airport, an Aer Lingus flight over the Atlantic Ocean to New York City, a subway train to rest up in central Queens (albeit for 2 months!), a taxi ride back to JFK Airport to board the overnight LAN flight to Lima, and a connecting LAN flight to the city of Arequipa in southern Peru.

Arequipa is a little bit off most people’s tourist trail, but is very well worth a visit. Other Peruvians joke that to live in Arequipa you need a different passport! This capital of the south, with an elevation of over 7,600 feet, has a proud reputation for some of the best cuisine, music, art and culture in all of Peru.

You completely forget that you are at such an altitude, but it is this elevation, latitude and the strategic position between the Pacific Ocean and the Andes which gives Arequipa a relatively constant climate. The days are comfortably warm and sunny, while the nights are much cooler, with wonderfully clear skies.

Where the terrain in this upland arid region allows, there is a superb year-round supply of fresh fruit and vegetables. As an Irishman who is somewhat critical of potato quality in other parts of the world I have to say the local produce in Arequipa is delicious!

The name Arequipa is thought to stem from either the Aymara Indian words ‘Ari’ (summit), and Quipa: (laying behind), or the immortal words of visiting Inca Mayta Capac, who upon discovering the settlement and admiring the beauty of the area and it’s prominence as a potential Inca city between the Pacific Ocean and Cusco, uttered the words ‘”Ari, quipay!” translated as “Yes, stay!”. Either or both possible sources of the current name seem quite apt.

There is less ambiguity regarding the origins of the nickname ‘The White City’. Arequipa’s impressive array of historic baroque buildings, most notably around La Plaza Mayor, which is also known as Plaza de Armas (as are all central plaza’s in Peru) are constructed from sillar; the unique type of whitish volcanic rock found in the area.

Having been almost completely destroyed by powerful earthquakes and volcanic eruptions in 1600, 1687 and 1868, the city has always re-emerged from the very rocks which both solidify and threaten its foundations, each time coming back stronger and more proudly determined. One such reincarnation, which was made official on August 15th 1540 is celebrated with great pride as the city’s anniversary. This includes a week long fiesta of song, dance, fireworks and general merriment.

Arequipa has served as a pre-Incan Native Indian settlement, an Incan city of great geographical significance, a Spanish colonial stronghold, capital of Peru (1835-1883) and always as both an administrative district for industry and trade and as a cultural center.

There is much to see in this beautiful city, and the extended region, with the shrine of The Virgin of Chapi, the splendid Andean gem of Colca Canyon with its famous hovering condors, Lake Titicaca, Pacific coastal town of Camana and geological highlights including Canters de Sillar, all within easy reach. Needless to say, you will not fail to notice the powerful influence of the three volcanoes; El Misti, Chachani and Picchu Picchu, which almost cradle Arequipa with a snow-capped crown.

Chachani, part of Arequipa’s snow-capped crown

You will also be affectionately drawn to the warm and friendly townspeople. The pride which is so often mentioned, and even revered by fellow Peruvians, is heart-warming. In no place that I have ever been have I ever met a people so happy or so proud of their city and culture; and with their life and place in the world in general. From scenery to song, cuisine to artistic culture and spirits to sport, you will regularly hear Los Arequipeños refer to their brand of just about anything as ‘La mejor del Mundo!’ (the best in the world!). It is hard to disagree, and certainly admirable that the local people have such pride and contentment in their great white city.

Arequipa is enchanting. The traditional culture and natural beauty leave you wanting to see more.  I will be back, and who knows, perhaps I will utter the immortal words: “Ari, quipay!”.

Have you read the other posts in this series?

Part 2: Arequipa to Cusco

Part 3: 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)