Conquering the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu (Just Barely)

I purposefully arrived in Cuzco four days before my Inca trail hike to Machu Picchu to have plenty of time to acclimatize. I had read that the hardest part of the hike was the altitude and that it is best to arrive at least a couple days early so the body can adjust.

But the night before my hike I was still getting winded just walking up the stairs to my hostel. I attempted to walk up and down those stairs several times to get used to the exertion. But midway through the second attempt I was breathing so heavily and my heart pounding so fiercely that I had to pause for 10 minutes just to make it back to the hostel and call it quits. I was growing increasingly worried about doing the trek. How could I possibly make it through the 26 miles that reach an altitude almost twice that of Cuzco’s if I couldn’t even climb the stairs leading to my hostel? The two all-night drinking outings sure weren’t helping matters.

Monday morning I woke to my watch alarm at 5:15. I had packed everything up for the trip the previous night, and so I needed only to collect everything quietly in my dorm room of nine other sleeping bodies and head down to the hostel entrance where the trekking company would pick me up. There were several others waiting at the entrance, most leaving for the Inca trail as well. All looked to be in great shape. I quietly prayed the bus picking us up would stop at a gloriously over-priced, luxury hotel where a few obese Americans were waiting to join our group. I needed some one to keep pace with.

Those obese Americans never materialized. Though we did pick up five other Americans – five girlfriends doing the trek together – they all seemed to be in pretty good health. Sigh.

The bus drove to the small town of Ollantaytambo where we would stop for breakfast before driving on the trail head. Along the way we stopped, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, to pick up our 22 porters. They were all vibrantly full of energy. I tried guessing which ones would be selected to carry me back to town when I could no longer push on. As soon as the bus arrived in town, local vendors swarmed us. We were mobbed as we tried to make our way to the restaurant for breakfast. People were selling wide-brimmed hats, walking sticks with little indigenous weaved handgrips, coca leaves, and, of course, water. Always water. We all pushed through the disappointed vendors on to the restaurant, completely missing the huge Inca fortress perched on the hill above. I would see this when I returned on my Sacred Valley tour later in the week.

Breakfast was rushed, but gave us our first chance to meet each other. There were five architects from Ireland, all around my age. They would prove to be the most fun of the group (the Irish always are). Two girls were from Holland, both young students. Both were much taller than me. One guy, an Indian from Singapore, was a college professor and also the oldest of the group at around 40. He would be sharing my tent during the trek. Two girls were from England, both on their sixth month of a two-year jaunt around the world. And there were the five American girls, all friends or relatives of each other, from Chicago, Seattle, and L.A., and all in their 30s. All would prove entertaining in their own way along the trail.

After breakfast the bus took us to the trail head where we were again mobbed by local vendors selling the same things as in the village. They had more luck this time as people went through their bags and discovered they were lacking several crucial items. I debated getting the wide-brimmed hat, but decided against it once I saw what it looked like on one of the other guys. My UNC baseball cap would do.

Finally, we noticed all the porters had already departed and our guide announced it was time for us to do the same. After a group picture at the trail head marker, we moved on to passport check and our guide paid our trail fees. They even had a stamp for our passports. Now every country’s immigration control will know I did the Inca trail. This was also the first time anyone from our group, including the Americans, had seen the new U.S. passport (compliments of me). There were several ooohs and aaahs. And jokes. It’s so patriotic.

On we moved across the Vilcanota River and up a fairly steep trail. The views were breath-takingly stunning; walking through the Andes was going to be a treat in itself. We followed the trail along the river, high enough now to look down at it and out over the mountains. In the distance was the snow-capped peak of Veronica Mountain at 17580 feet, which reminded some one of the story of three British climbers who trekked the Andes without a guide – one getting hurt so badly he was almost left for dead. I tried my best not to think about it any further.

My heart was beating pretty quickly, but my breathing was steady. I could even almost hold a two-sided conversation about college basketball and world soccer teams. Though, admittedly, the conversation was mostly one-sided as I concentrated on breathing. But over all I was doing much better than expected.

After some time we came to our first Inca ruins: the Inca hillfort of Huillca Raccay. Not all that impressive. But from here we could see the huge Inca ruins of Llactapata in the valley below. Apparently used as an agricultural station to supply Machu Picchu, Llactapata was comprised of over 100 buildings and houses for workers and soldiers. It was an amazing site from high above the valley. And it was also our first chance for a solid rest as our guide described what we were looking at. I needed it. We had just done a long, steep climb and I was exhausted. I had watched incredulously as porters practically jogged past me carrying five times the weight of my own bag. And most were doing it wearing simple sandals made of old tires.

When it was time to start moving again, we were finally going downhill. But I suddenly had a severe and pounding headache. And my stomach was churning. The altitude was taking a toll. I kept moving along the trail, but talked very little even as the rest of the group seemed to be doing fine. We eventually stopped, not a moment too soon, at a site for lunch. The porters already had everything set up when we arrived. A large tent with tables and stools was the center point – lunch was soup followed by a chicken and rice dish and tea. I was just expecting to have sandwiches while sitting on the grass. But my headache was too intense and I had no appetite. I quietly got up from the table and went out to lie down in the grass. I started to go over different scenarios in my head of how I would be taken back to the trail head.

Apparently one of the American gals had just arrived in Peru the day before and the altitude was kicking her butt too. She was lying out in the grass as well. Another American gal walked over and, noticing how bad I looked, offered some maximum strength Tylenol. Now normally I am opposed to taking any kind of medication, no matter how badly I feel. I am kinda silly that way. I took three.

Twenty minutes later I was practically bouncing down the trail.

That afternoon at 3:30 we arrived at the tiny village of Wayllabamba where we were camping for the night. Again, the porters had everything set up when we arrived. And as we made our way towards the campsite, the porters, all lined up, welcomed us with applause for completing our first day. We all dropped in an open space near the tents and took in the views of the mountains in the distance and the ducks, chickens, and donkeys walking (and waddling) around us. Wayllabamba was a farming village after all.

There was a woman selling Cokes and Gatorades and different chocolate bars. Everyone was a customer. At tea time (yes, we had tea time) in the large dining tent our guide taught us card games. We played until it was time for dinner. Then we played some more. Around 8:30 when the guide suggested we go to sleep, no one argued. The sky was clear and full of more stars than seemed possible. I was tempted to sleep out under them. But the guide, at just that moment, mentioned the need to take a flashlight to the bathroom in order to look for tarantulas before popping a squat. Into my tent I went. I had no problem falling asleep after my first day on the Inca trail.