Machu Picchu Maniacal Pursuit

October 7, 2008

On our first day in Aguas Calientes I was ready to for the city to redeem itself. The continental breakfast that we were promised was non-existent. And there was no one to be found in our hostel. The rain was still coming down. We set off walking in search of a new hostel, which was not hard to find. There was one on every corner and, since it is the beginning of the slow tourist season, they were all eager to impress. We inquired about services and prices at perhaps 10 of them before we decided on the place across the street from our previous hostel. We’d be paying less than half the price and the room was nicer.

Next, we kept ourselves busy running errands. Market for food stuffs, tourist office for Machu Picchu tickets, artisan market for killing time, lunch for grumbly tummies, and by the afternoon we had completely exhausted the city.

Bedtime was early… to prepare us for…

October 8, 2008


3am wakeup time. It was still raining and dark outside. We ate a quick breakfast and shivered into our clothes. Layers, lots of layers, including the all-important rain layer (ponchos and plastic bags over our feet). I wasn’t feeling spectacular and attributed it to the altitude. Too bad we couldn’t awake the sleeping staff for hot water for coca tea. It was about 4am when we set out from the hostel.



The streets were cold, dark, wet, and empty. We looked awful silly in our getups, but we knew better than to be self-conscious about our attire. Besides, who’s gonna judge us? The sleeping guy on the plaza bench? The store owner who tries to sell us water? The closed store fronts and the barren railroad tracks?

As we left the city lights, we adorned our headlamps. The pale beams of light kept us from sidestepping into the rushing river to our left. The plastic bags on our feet and the hoods on our heads kept us from immediate chill, but it was only a matter of time.

We passed the abandoned buses that, in about an hour, would be shuttling tourists up and down the path to Machu Picchu. Our goal: to beat the buses and their tourists to be the first people to the top.

Down the dirt road, past unseen landscapes, we arrive at a bridge. Following Nate’s advice, we cross the bridge and arrive at the bottom of the path up. There’s the buses’ road and the pedestrian’s stone stairway. Arrowed signs mark the start of the ascent.

Our shoe bags started ripping. Our breaths began to quicken. We stayed hydrated with bottled beverages. The pre-sun morning was still pitch black save our feeble headlamps. The rain was still falling.

Up up up up upupupup! The stairs kept going. We heard dogs in the distance and our memories flashbacked to Laguna Quilotoa! We quickened our steps.

At some point I looked up, and realized that the sky has lightened. The edges of the hills surrounding us were emerging. We switched off our headlamps; it couldn’t be too much farther.

Our shoes were wet and my pants were soaked by the time we surface at the top of the stairs. Bienvenidos a Machu Picchu! We made it! We took some time to congratulate ourselves.

But to our (mostly Nate’s) dismay, we found out that we were not the first people there. A group of three Australians had beat us up. They said that they had left the hotel at 3:30am! And without headlamps! They had followed the railroad tracks and had stumbled through the darkness all the way to the top. We commended them on a job well done! We surrendered the crown of hardcore to them.

More people started arriving after that. I wrung out my socks and munched on some bread before the gates opened at 6am. When we entered the ruins of Machu Picchu, there was a blanket of white clouds over everything. We ran through the crumbling rock walls, up and down stairs, past lounging alpaca to the entrance of Wayna Picchu. We had heard that only the first 400 people into Machu Picchu got tickets to climb up. So we had to get there, and fast!

We ended up being first in line for Wayna Picchu. They opened the gates at 6:45am and Nate and I started up the trail. The trail curled up and around the hill. The sky was bright white. We had no concept of how far we were going and what was around us.

Up and up we climbed. The trail was muddy and rocky and arduous at times. We crawled into caves and up ruins on the other side. Finally we got to the top.

Whew.

But all we could see was white. We knew we were high up, but we didn’t have surroundings to verify that. We knew we were supposed to see a spectacular view of Machu Picchu. But all we could see was white.

It was still only 8am and we assumed that the sun would start to burn off the clouds. So we decided to wait it out; we had time. The early morning hike caught up with me. I put my head down in Nate’s lap to rest.

Very shortly after, Nate said that the clouds were clearing. Sure enough, little snippets of ground became visible. Over the next few hours, we saw more and more. It was breathtaking. And the blanket of cloudy mist added a certain mystical element to the whole scene.


We stayed for a few hours marveling as the spectacular view swung in and out of view.

We headed back down and made a stop at Huchuypicchu, a smaller version of Wayna Picchu. It had a surprisingly good view so we lingered for a few pictures and some munchy snacks.

We then headed down into Machu Picchu to wander through the ruins. Nate seemed more interested in the big slabs of rock than the actual ruins, but who can blame him? It’s been a while since he’s climbed anything. I was not feeling spectacular. I was tired, weak, tired, cold, and tired! At least the rain had let up a bit.

Nate wanted to climb Mountain Machu Picchu. Why hike only two out of the three surrounding mountains? My body was telling me not to, but Nate and my stubbornness were telling me to try it. What harm could come from it?

We started up. I took it slow. Very slow. Step by step. Could altitude be the culprit? Could it be the fact that we’ve only munched on bars all day and not actual food? Could it be the weather? The early departure time? All of the above?!

At a certain point near the top, I sat on a rock. Nate promised to run to the top and back down again. Ok. I had a pretty great view. I’d wait.

Nate danced up the stairs and I put my head down. I flirted with sleep until I felt the first view drops of rain. I tried to take cover under some trees, but the incessant drip drip drip covered my rain coat.

I continued to wait, sitting in the rain. Come on, Nate. Half an hour went by. I questioned the people coming down and they verified that he had indeed run up the mountain. I started shivering and debating descending without him. A trail maintenance worker waited with me making conversation. A bit later, Nate appeared out of breath and sopping wet. I said goodbye to the kind man who kept me company and we skipped down the mountain. I was not feeling well. That was a fact.

I just wanted to get back to Aguas Calientes as fast as possible. I sprinted towards the exit. We weaved in and out of stubborn tourists who liked to walk painfully slowly and not let anyone pass. The rain was still coming down. My rain jacket felt inadequate. My sneakers were soaked. My pants clung to me. And my body was shaking.

The line for the bus back down to Aguas Calientes was way too long and uncovered. I put on all my layers, turned to Nate, and declared I was ready to head back. Step step step. Eternal stairs.

The rain didn’t stop that night. But when we finally got back to the hotel, we changed into dry clothes and I hopped into bed. Nate didn’t let me stay there for long. We had to get something to eat. All that trekking on empty tummies is not good. We had brought energy and candy bars, but those only go so far. Real food was imperative.

But for some reason I wasn’t hungry. No, I just didn’t have an appetite. Hmmm. We sit down to a nice dinner. I order quinoa soup and a quinoa risotto to replenish my protein for the day. But when the food came, I was shivering and didn’t feel like eating. I forced myself to eat the soup, but soon felt nauseous. I made it to the bathroom before I puked.

I couldn’t eat anymore and apologized to the waitress. We hardly made it back to the hotel before I puked again. Nate ran out to the nearest pharmacy and (all in Spanish) explained my situation. He returned successful with some pills. Way to go, Nate!

But soon after I took the pills, I started burning up. Worse than before. Nate got worried when he felt my face. My eyes were bloodshot and my cheeks were flushed. I knew something was very wrong with me. Nate went to the reception to call a doctor and I whimpered in bed until he came back. I was so tired and feverish.

Finally the doctors came, yes there were two, and asked some questions. They gave me some more pills and some pink rehydrating liquid. They said that I’d be fine to travel by tomorrow. My fever was hovering between 100-102.3 degrees Fahrenheit.