Wake-up call: 3:45 am
Altitude: From Wiñaywayna campsite, 2700 metres to Machu Picchu, 24000 metres.
My legs rebelled quite strongly when we were woken up in the obscurity of the middle of the night, under the jungle rain, for the ultimate trek to Machu Picchu. But after an reinvigorating breakfast, we set off early to be at the checkpoint when it opened at 5:30am. The path was misty, so my eyes were dulled while the constant chirping of the jungle birds kept me entertained until our arrival. After the checkpoint, we climbed and climbed those Inka stairs ("bloody Inkas," as our guide muttered hourly) to reach the Puerta Del Sol, or Door of the Sun. No matter if the name didn't stick, as the sun was nowhere to be seen.
And then began our cloudy descent to the lost Inkan citadel-- "I think its ahead of us," "no way, its below us," and "wait, what we're here?". We arrived a little before 7 am, and put our tired selves and backpacks down to watch the rapid dancing of the clouds as they shifted to slowly unveil the incredible Machu Picchu. Peru is crammed with photos advertising the site. But the pictures always remained flat to me. Seeing the towering Wayna Picchu mountain, the intricate maze of stone temples and groomed terraces is really something else. The place is almost aggressively magical. It's near impossible not to gape in front of such a beautiful unity of natural and human-created beauty. We had a mini-guided tour of the main areas and then trudged around, slaloming between the Temple of the Sun, the llamas and the massive tour groups. One of the only 14 Inkan emperors, Pachacutec, comissioned the construction of the sacred site. It's definitely no logner a lost citadel, but it remains unforgettable. One of the metaphorical and literal peaks of my trip so far.
My legs rebelled quite strongly when we were woken up in the obscurity of the middle of the night, under the jungle rain, for the ultimate trek to Machu Picchu. But after an reinvigorating breakfast, we set off early to be at the checkpoint when it opened at 5:30am. The path was misty, so my eyes were dulled while the constant chirping of the jungle birds kept me entertained until our arrival. After the checkpoint, we climbed and climbed those Inka stairs ("bloody Inkas," as our guide muttered hourly) to reach the Puerta Del Sol, or Door of the Sun. No matter if the name didn't stick, as the sun was nowhere to be seen.
And then began our cloudy descent to the lost Inkan citadel-- "I think its ahead of us," "no way, its below us," and "wait, what we're here?". We arrived a little before 7 am, and put our tired selves and backpacks down to watch the rapid dancing of the clouds as they shifted to slowly unveil the incredible Machu Picchu. Peru is crammed with photos advertising the site. But the pictures always remained flat to me. Seeing the towering Wayna Picchu mountain, the intricate maze of stone temples and groomed terraces is really something else. The place is almost aggressively magical. It's near impossible not to gape in front of such a beautiful unity of natural and human-created beauty. We had a mini-guided tour of the main areas and then trudged around, slaloming between the Temple of the Sun, the llamas and the massive tour groups. One of the only 14 Inkan emperors, Pachacutec, comissioned the construction of the sacred site. It's definitely no logner a lost citadel, but it remains unforgettable. One of the metaphorical and literal peaks of my trip so far.
The clouds teased us for a while, and then....
... broke apart to present...
... MACHU PICCHU!
The semi-circular Temple of the Sun, with looming mountain for dramatic effect. It was built without clay or mortar-- pure Inka style-- and has one window perfectly angled for the winter solstice and the other for the summer solstice.
An estimated 700 families lived in Machu Picchu during the peak of the empire, according to our only semi- reliable tour guide. "Who mows the grass," I asked him. "Llamas, the new workers," he answered. "No salaries and no strikes."
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