Into the Lost City

As promised, the second part of the series on our visit to Machu Picchu.

We woke up in Aguas Calientes at 3:30 in the morning. Dylan set four alarms to make sure we didn't oversleep. Since we successfully woke up to the first, the fourth should have been pretty annoying, especially since Dylan made a habit of dancing in his boxers to the stupid cell phone jingle that went off every time. Fortunately, I was in the kind of mood that only comes when you know you're about to do something that will stay with you forever, so I didn't mind. I took what was easily the coldest shower of my life, possibly going into the beginning stages of shock before my adrenaline rescued me; my good mood also stopped me from being bothered by the freezing water, though it wasn't quite enough to stop me from later writing a bad review of the hostel.

In any event, we trudged outside at 4:15am to get to the line to buy our tickets for the bus that would take us to the ruins. Wouldn't you know it, we were first in line! Not that surprising considering the little booth wouldn't open until 5. We were very proud of ourselves, until we noticed the other line down the street. That was the line for the buses themselves, the first of which wouldn't leave until 5:30. After some deliberation, we decided to divide our forces and have Dylan stand in the line for the buses while I waited to buy the tickets using the $50 bill I'd been hiding in my shoe (the hostel recommended we use American currency since the ticket office gave a notoriously bad exchange rate to soles).

We made it onto the third bus, which left just after 5:30. The drive up to Machu Picchu before sunrise is one of two dozen sharp switchbacks made in the dark, although by the time we were about 75% of the way up, dawn had started to creep upon us and there was just enough light for us to see when we entered the clouds. At that point, it became sharp switchbacks made at a good clip where all that stood between us and solid cloud was a rather flimsy-looking guardrail. Of course, we made it just fine and got on the line to get into the site itself, although we had been beaten by everyone who had stayed at the swanky lodge right outside the entrance.

At this point, my adrenaline was on full tilt. I've wanted to go to Machu Picchu for a long, long time, and I was still concerned - irrationally - that something would go wrong. I checked and re-checked that I had my ticket and my passport about a million times in line. Finally, they started admitting people into the park and the line started to move quickly. We had previously decided that we would make an effort to get tickets to climb one of the two peaks that shadow Machu Picchu, a mountain known as Huayna Picchu. Only 400 visitors are allowed on Huayna each day, so every morning features a mad rush across the ruins to the back of the park where the ticket office for Huayna is located. As we got in, we made that rush, climbing over ropes that were obviously intended to keep us out of certain areas. It was bizarre, because the clouds surrounding us were so thick that we could barely see 20 feet ahead of us, and we certainly couldn't see any of the ruins that we didn't even realize we were passing.

As we waited on line, the clouds slowly began to part in the distance, showing hints of faded peaks. The sun rose while we were waiting on line for Huayna. With the sun casting its misty light on our surroundings, we began to appreciate exactly where we were in the world. Machu Picchu is a city surrounded on all sides by huge valleys, on the other side of which are peaks that rise hundreds of meters above the ruins. I've seen a fair amount of impressive sunrises, but this one has to take the cake. As if the breaking clouds and tall green mountains weren't enough, the sun coming out finally started to reveal the imposing ruins of the city. We secured our tickets for Huayna - numbers 231 and 232 out of 400 - and headed back to the other side of the site to visit the building known as the Guardhouse, which sits about 30m above the rest of the city outside the main gate. From here, we just sat and stared for a long while as the ruins finally came into full view. The site is simply just as impressive as it seems to be in pictures, if not more so.

Walking around the ruins themselves was incredible, though I'll have to share pictures later to fairly convey what we saw.

Between the hours of 10am and 1pm, we conquered Huayna Picchu. I say "conquered" because between a lingering lack of adjustment to the altitude, my already well-documented state of physical fitness, and the nature of five-century-old Inca masonry, it was an unexpectedly grueling three hours. The ascent to the top of the mountain, while only about 250 meters, is achieved via a never-ending series of steep and slippery stone steps (alliteration unintentional) with only the occasional rope to provide any insurance from falling off the edge. The view from the top is entirely worth it, as you'll see later. After getting to the top, we went back down the mountain, except on the other side to a shallow cavern ("cave" is more accurate) that was apparently used as a temple. We then had to climb almost all the way back up to the Machu Picchu side, a hike that included a brief stint hanging off the side of the mountain while rappelling down the stairs rather than walking them as they were at completely impossible angles. Once we got back up, we had to walk all the way down again to Machu Picchu. I took a fair number of breaks. It was exhausting. Dylan later commented I should have done a better job at using my momentum to my advantage.

All told, we were at Machu Picchu for more than eight hours and it was as much an experience of a lifetime as people say it is. Less impressive was the loud, alpaca-themed fashion show that the train staff put on for our benefit on the ride back to Ollantaytambo.