The Inca Trail: Part 2 - The Trek

On Tuesday, August 28th, we started our trek on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. We had to be ready for the bus to pick us up by 5:30 am. It was about a 2-hour ride to the trailhead, where there is an official checkpoint we needed to wait in line to pass through. The government requires that anyone hiking the trail is part of a guided group, and only 500 people are allowed on the trail per day.

I think everyone was a little nervous that morning. There were 14 of us, plus 2 guides and 17 porters (including a chef and a coordinator). The photo at right is just our group of hikers, immediately before heading onto the trail.

Some of the chaskies for our group. We always gave way
for them to pass us. 

I immediately gained tremendous respect for our porters. We were asked to use the Quechua term "chaskies", which refers to the Inca messengers that relayed news from town to town with great speed. These men could put any of us to shame by hiking quickly by us with loads of up to 25 kilos (regulated now by the Peruvian government). Most of them only spoke Quechua, but they were always very friendly and helpful.

I included photos of our guides because they were amazing, and without them, I don't think I could have done it. Mike chose to go through SAS Travel for our trek, because of reviews and because they keep the money local, as opposed to guide companies based in the US.
I don't think we realized at the time that we would be getting such a wonderful experience by choosing this company. And I didn't realize how much of a difference that could make. Our guide, Fred, and assistant guide, Hugo, knew so much and were so passionate about this topic that they inspired me to learn more about the Inca culture. Fred is an archeologist with the university in Cusco (Universidad Nacional de San Antonio Abad del Cusco) during the off season, and is involved with expeditions to recently discovered ruins around the region, so he has a lot of info not yet published.

Fred, our fearless guide, lecturing at Machu Picchu.

Hugo, our assistant guide, giving us a talk at
Winay Wayna.

The bridge that separates the checkpoint to enter the Inca Trail
from the actual trail (which starts on the other side).

A brief synopsis of our trek, day-by-day

Day 1: After finally crossing the checkpoint after 9 am, we hiked gradually uphill to a nice little park-like area for lunch. The chaskies were waiting for us and clapped when we arrived. So sweet of them. Lunch was much more elaborate and healthy than what I expected, and that was a sign of things to come. Every meal included a great variety of dishes with lots of veggies. Our guide liked to tell us we were eating exotic dishes, like baby condor in its own blood (chicken in a red sauce), chopped llama legs (lomo de saltado), etc.

After lunch, the trail continued on pretty easily except for a bit more steepness near the end of the day. We camped that night further along than other groups so that we would not be sharing a campsite with so many other people and would be ahead of them in the morning. Our tents were set up when we arrived at camp, and as soon as we had time to clean up a little, we had happy hour in the dining tent, consisting of coca leaf tea, popcorn, and cookies to tide us over until dinner was ready. After dinner, everyone goes right to bed. Day 2 is going to be a tough one.



Day 2: Today we had to climb to the top of Dead Woman's Pass, at 4180 m (a 1000-m increase from camp), then go down several hundred meters before crossing a second pass at around 3900 m. It was a grueling hike to the top of the first pass. I was one of the last in my group to make it up. The funny thing is, it wasn't my legs that got tired. I just couldn't catch my breath. The high elevation and my asthma made it tough. Still, I found someone I could keep pace with most of the time (until the end), and I just stuck with her most of the time.

That's me, following Sharon, who kept a good pace for me,
on the way up to Dead Woman's Pass.

There was a bit of celebration at the top of Dead Woman's Pass before we headed down the mountain towards our lunch spot. I found that going downhill was much easier and more enjoyable for me. I assumed this would be true for everyone, but I was mistaken. I was among the fastest in my group going downhill, because I don't really have too many issues with knees/hips/ankles in that terrain. It made me feel like a powerhouse at those times.

Our group at the top of Dead Woman's Pass, along with our chasky
coordinator.

By that evening when we arrived in the camp that would be coldest, I think we were all exhausted but elated that the most strenuous day was over.











Day 3: This was a relatively short day, with a lot of stops at various cultural sites. We arrived at camp early and had time to visit nearby ruins, which were quite large and extensive, on our own time. This was the camp where everyone stays before passing through the next checkpoint to Machu Picchu early the next morning. We relaxed a bit, had a chance for a very cold shower (which I took), and went to bed early.

A llama just hanging out grazing at
one of the ruins.

Ruins we passed through on the third
day. There were so many that I'm not
even sure which ones these are.

The view from our campsite the third night. Not bad, eh?

The other view of our campsite the third night.
Right above the toilets, making for a wafting odor all night.

Amazing view.

Day 4: We got up at 3:45 and were ready to leave camp by 4:20 am. We had to get up this early to get our place in line to cross the last checkpoint along the trail. The checkpoint doesn't actually open until 5:30 am, so we waited for an hour to get started on our last bit of hiking. It took about an hour and a half to reach the Sun Gate (Inti Punku), the main entrance to Machu Picchu from the trail. We didn't quite make it at sunrise, but just after. Machu Picchu was already getting some visitors riding up on the bus from Aguas Calientes, a town that basically exists because of tourism to Machu Picchu.

 We hiked into Machu Picchu, relaxed a bit, then actually exited the park (or whatever you want to call it), so that we could officially enter with our tickets. We spent the morning with our guides touring Machu Picchu. Then they left us for a couple of hours on our own. We then took a bus down to Aguas Calientes to meet back up for lunch one last time. It was actually sad to part ways with our guides at that time, and some of our group was heading out as well. We shared email addresses and are going to try to share all of our photos. This is a very good thing since some folks in the group are quite good photographers.

The last stairs up to the Sun Gate.

Machu Picchu from Inti Punku (the Sun Gate) in all its glory.

 I added several photos from that day, but if you scroll down far enough, you'll see some from Day 5, when we returned to Machu Picchu to climb Huayna Picchu, which was essentially a watchtower for Machu Picchu and provides extraordinary views of the area.

Our group just after we arrived at Machu Picchu. 

Day 5: We got up Saturday morning and took the bus from Aguas Calientes up to Machu Picchu to climb Huayna Picchu, which has regulated access limited to 400 people per day. Our time slot was for 7-8 am entry, which was perfect to avoid most of the heat of the day.

That little mountain on the right,
that's Huayna Picchu.

The checkpoint to enter the trail to Huayna Picchu.

Yes, that's sweat. It's a LOT of steps to get up to that point!

The view of Machu Picchu from way up there.

Lots of very steep steps. And the Inca apparently had
very small feet, judging by the very narrow steps.

 Okay, if you made it this far, thanks for reading. I know it's a lot, but hopefully the photos were interesting. That was basically the end of our 5-day trip on the Inca Trail. We returned to Aguas Calientes later that morning and took a train back to Ollentaytambo, where a taxi picked us up and took us back to Cusco.

I'm so glad we saw Machu Picchu the way we did, hiking the Inca Trail, instead of just taking a train to Aguas Calientes and catching a bus up to the site. I learned so much more about the Andean people and culture, and about myself. And I met some wonderful people that I think I would call friends, even after only knowing them for a few days. Time well spent.

The Inca Trail: Part 1 - Pre-trek in Cusco and the Sacred Valley

My husband, Mike, and I just completed our trip to Peru to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. It was an amazing trip, so I want to make sure I document it as much as I can now before the details get muddied.

We arrived in Cusco (or Cuzco, depending on where you look), Peru, on Saturday, August 25th, after traveling for 24 hours. We were picked up at the airport by a driver and transported to our hotel. This is when I realized that I would never want to drive a car in Cusco. The roads seem like total chaos, and I just had to have total faith in the driver to not get us killed. I was immediately impressed with how anyone could negotiate the traffic in that town (or any other town we were in, for that matter).

Cusco is at an elevation over 10,000 ft, so I was convinced the horrible headache I developed was caused by altitude. However, after spending most of the day feeling awful, I realized it was actually a case of severe muscle tension in my neck and shoulders causing the headache. Mike worked on my knots, and that made the following day much more pleasant, as we toured the Sacred Valley (guided by SAS Travel) while we acclimatized to the altitude.

Our guide to the Sacred Valley, Martin,
at Ollentaytambo.

I had heard about Machu Picchu, but I didn't realize just how many Inca ruins there are in the area. There are even what our guide called "working Incan towns" (like Ollentaytambo), where the town exists much as it did centuries ago. The narrow roads are still there, and many of the bases of buildings are built on the original stone base. I also didn't realize that indigenous peoples make up a large proportion of Peru, and this area in particular. Our guide was very proud that he was not Mestizo and was pure "Incan blood". In fact, there are areas around the Sacred Valley where most inhabitants do not speak Spanish, but rather Quechua (though in touristy areas, most spoke some Spanish and usually a little English).

On a side note, all streams within towns seemed to be 

channelized like this was, though usually not so elaborately.

We saw a lot of ruins throughout the Sacred Valley that day, and developed a lot of respect for the culture of the people in that area. Farming and handicrafts appear to be the primary occupations in the area, and they are definitely quite dependent on tourism. That's probably why they are so very welcoming to tourists. Many people live in what we would call poverty, though they seem to be relatively happy people. It's hard to know for sure whether they live simply out of necessity or are content that way, but I know they are a lovely, friendly people.

These ladies and kids are demonstrating how they clean 

and dye alpaca wool to prepare it for weaving into 

beautiful products.

If there was one thing I will not miss about Peru in general, it was the bathrooms and plumbing issues. No matter where you are in Peru, there are signs that ask that you not to put paper in the toilets to avoid backups. There is usually a bin sitting in the stall next to the toilet for used paper. Bathrooms often lack toilet paper, so I also had to get used to carrying a little baggy of my own all the time. Most bathrooms in the city and in more modern buildings are otherwise what I was used to, with a toilet that flushes. 

The example to the right is more like what we saw on the trail and in more rural areas at the ruins. Sometimes there is a way to flush, but these didn't have that. Actually this photo is a much nicer example of what we saw on the trail. All I can say is that I'm glad I did all those squats in Crossfit, or it would have been that much harder to use these bathrooms. 

Best Friends: Am I missing out, or does it just feel that way?

Times have been stressful in my life lately, and I finally put my finger on what is making it hard to shed some of that stress. I used to have a best friend, that one point person I could go to whenever I had something really good or really bad happening in my life just to talk it over. It was a mutual thing. He still lives in Kentucky, and although we are still friends, our relationship has changed drastically since I moved.

I no longer feel like I have someone in my life that I can call a best friend in that way. I have friends, but not really a go-to person I rely on. I also don't feel like I am that person for anyone else right now. I miss that, but it has to be organic. It's not like I can decide this or that person is my best friend. It has to just happen, and it just hasn't. Still, I find myself actually being a bit jealous of those that seem to find that relationship with someone else.

I feel like I have separated people in my life into compartments, and in a lot of ways, that has to be a choice I have made, even if a subconscious one. By doing that, though, it means there is no one that really knows me as I am in all of those compartments. I suppose that could be one way of protecting myself from getting hurt by keeping myself distanced from everyone to some extent. Nevertheless, I miss feeling like I can be completely at ease with another person. I guess I want my cake and to eat it, too.

What I ask myself, and you, readers, is whether a best friend is necessary? What purpose exactly is served by having a single best friend? Am I truly missing out, or is it really a double-edged sword?

The anti-joiner

I have to make a confession that will not come as a surprise to many that know me. I am an anti-joiner. I am the opposite of someone I would refer to as a joiner, someone that likes to be a part of trends or big movements or just "the cool kids".

Don't get me wrong. I like to feel like I fit in somewhere, and I like to be amongst friends. However, once a group or movement or whatever gets to a certain size, I stop wanting to be a part of it. I lose interest, and the more I am pushed to join a group, or just do what everyone else is doing, the less likely I am to do so.

I noticed this most recently with my Crossfit group, which is what inspired me to write this. They are planning a trip to Bend next weekend to compete in the Oregon Crossfit Games. There are currently 22+ members of our box going, mostly staying together in one house. I am not going. At this point, I feel very left out, which makes me sad, but also glad I am not going.

This is a confusing set of emotions, but if I think about it, I can lay out emotional process.

1) I get lost in large groups of people. I don't mean I can't figure out where I am geographically. I mean that I tend to become quiet and even more introverted than I normally am. I start to feel isolated, even among friends.

2) I tend to avoid competition, so in a large group of people, I will not compete for attention. This may be a debit in the presence of a lot of extroverts, mostly because I tend not to have my opinion heard in these situations. Then I stew and become more and more irritated that "no one cares what I think".

3) I despise peer pressure, and I despise the thought that I would give in to it. And yet I know I do sometimes. In such cases, I will go along with the group, not having had my voice heard, even if I am miserable. I am never the decision maker in a large group, because I am never the most vocal one. When possible, I will often decide to do my own thing silently, and just become annoyed at everyone else who seems to be following along.

4) Sometimes, not always but definitely sometimes, I just become contrary and ambivalent. I dislike large groups so much that I begin to dislike any decision that is made, regardless of its merit.

I think the main source of all of this mental drama is the fact that I am an introvert. I am introspective and contemplative, and I need to feel like I am making my own decisions, not just being led along by others. To me, that is a weak-minded way to live.

I know some extroverts that cannot understand that being introvert is not a personality disorder. They want to "fix" me by encouraging me to be more like they are. Sometimes I wish I WERE more like them. I would be more gregarious and thrive in the large groups I often end up involved in beyond my control. But at the same time, I kinda like being the black sheep, I suspect. It's way more interesting long term than fitting in.

In the case of this weekend, I think I'll probably feel a special bond with those folks that aren't going. We're all kind of the black sheep. Yeah, that will be my new group until that gets too big or popular.

Thanks for being such a jerk...

This time of year, I usually look back on the previous year or two and think about watershed moments. Sometimes this involves a falling out with someone that includes burned bridges. Usually, I can actually appreciate that I am better off without them after some time has passed. Although even seeing mention of these people can still sting, I realize that I am happier because they are no longer around to crush my self-esteem over and over. This makes me appreciate the event or behavior that caused the falling out.

So here's my question: how can I thank someone for treating me so poorly without being facetious?  I imagine some of my attempts.

"Thanks for being such a dick when I was struggling with depression...it was just what I needed to realize that I didn't need you around."

"I can't thank you enough for being so bitchy that one time when I needed a friend rather than a critic. It made me rethink the people that I wanted to surround myself with."

"I really appreciate that you were so awful to me, because it gave me the courage I needed to walk away from you for good, instead of feeling like I had to keep giving you more chances."

Okay, so none of these would probably go over as hoped. They all sound pretty bitchy, in fact, but I am truly thankful when someone finally lets me take a step I might otherwise feel too guilty (over giving up on someone) to take. Maybe I don't need to thank them. Perhaps they are thankful for the separation as well, and wondering how to express that themselves.

Have I become Salem Woman?

I saw a tweet from a Portlander this afternoon that simply said, "Salem is a shit hole". My first gut reaction was to take personal offense, because how can I not take a rude statement like that personally? I wanted to say something nasty about Portland in response, but after a little reflection, I stopped myself from stooping to her level. I realized that 1) I don't care what she thinks about anything, 2) she said that out of ignorance, 3) there probably aren't enough strip clubs and addicts in Salem compared to what she's used to, and 4) she's always seemed to be kind of bitter and lonely, and that probably had something to do with what she said.

While I was walking my dog, though, I started thinking about all the reasons I like living in Salem, and the reasons I really don't care for Portland beyond a place to visit occasionally. I do like the size of Salem, which is mostly what makes it a much friendlier town than Portland (in my opinion and experience). In a sprawling town like Portland, with endless suburbs, there is little real sense of community like what I feel here in Salem. It was the same in Cincinnati, and the only truly friendly places I experienced were certain eclectic neighborhoods inside the city, like Northside. Otherwise, people pretty much know they'll probably never see you again, so why be friendly?

In the process contemplating all this, it hit me. My inner voice sounded a lot like 'Salem Woman' from Salemia (www.salemia.net)! If you haven't seen the show, Salem Woman has a bit of a Salem chip on her shoulder, and this makes her and Salem Man kind of possessive about their town and unfriendly to folks from Portland.

The more I think about it, maybe I'm not quite so like Salem Woman after all. I mean, it's not as if I'm blind to the negative sides of Salem. Every city has them (yes, even Portland - gasp!), and they are slightly different in every city or town. Seedy parts of town. Small-minded, hateful, ignorant people. Outdated laws or ways of doing things. Every town has some of all of those things, whether they admit it or not. The thing is, I mostly cannot change those things, so I have to either embrace them as part of the fabric of my community, become very bitter about them and fight a futile battle to change them, or move away. I think I have no choice for my sanity but to do the first. I have to be able to acknowledge and laugh at those things I cannot change.

So wait, does that make me Salem Woman after all?

On being an orphan over the holidays

When my husband and I lived in Ohio, we usually did Thanksgiving on our own after his parents moved to Florida. Occasionally, we spent it with other people who were also from other places and invited us into their home. Since we moved to Salem, we've been lucky enough to be a part of an orphan Thanksgiving each year. I find this ultimately much more relaxing than any Thanksgiving with my family or my husband's. Not that I don't love my family, but because anytime I am visiting them and usually staying with my parents, I don't just get to go home at the end of the day. It ends up being just a bit too much time at a stretch with them.

For Christmas, things are a little different. Before we moved, we rarely just stayed at home over the Christmas holidays, except for health reasons a couple of years. Usually, we drove down to Georgia to see my family, then headed to Florida to see his parents for a few days, then back north through Georgia with another stop to see my family again. It was truly exhausting, and those few years we didn't travel were, aside from the health issues, more relaxed and pleasant for me.

Since we moved to Oregon, it's been different each year, and this year is no exception. The first year, another couple invited us to join them and some friends at the Grand Lodge in Forest Grove for Christmas Night. It was wonderfully empty and quiet, and we were able to just eat, drink, and be merry all over the hotel that night, followed by the hike the next morning. Last year, my husband had coworker that was on her own for the holiday. We invited her to go with us to a play (A Christmas Story at Portland Center Stage) and a meal in Portland on Christmas Eve, then spend the night with us and hang out on Christmas Day making a meal we would share that afternoon. It was very low key, and I like that on a holiday.

This year, she has travel plans, so we are once again on our own. It feels like being an orphan, even though there are two of us. We are still going to a play, a different one, trying to decide if this will become a tradition for us, but aside from that, we are winging it. There is little to no likelihood of traveling back east for the Thanksgiving/Christmas holidays anytime in the near or far future, so I guess new traditions are in order. If you really believe home is where the heart is, then this is my true home, because this is where my heart lies. So new traditions should start where my heart is, right?