The final metres of the Inca Trail
“Walk up these stone steps and you’ll be lost for words,” says my guide. The end of the four-day Inca Trail is in sight – almost.
These have been wonderful days. Three days ago, we set off by train from the village of Ollantaytambo in the far reaches of the Sacred Valley. Here, the Urubamba River cuts its way through the mountains, transforming the valley into a gorge. In the late 19th century, railway builders managed to lay a track right alongside the river down to the lowlands so that agricultural produce and timber could be transported to Cuzco. At the time, engineers, surveyors and railway workers had no idea that, just a few dozen metres above their heads, an entire Inca city lay hidden, completely overgrown by the cloud forest. This city was not discovered until 1911 by Hiram Bingham, an American explorer who thus made the archaeological discovery of the century: Machu Picchu, the city in the clouds.
That’s where we wanted to go. But we wanted to do it in a way that was entirely in keeping with its history, the landscape in which it is set and the challenge it presents. The four-day trek along “El Camino Inca”, widely known as the Inca Trail, began. At kilometre marker 88, we got off the train and were met by our team of guides. The guide introduced us to the cook (who would be preparing some astonishingly delicious meals for us) and the porters, who took our luggage so that we could limit our load to a day rucksack. The programme for the coming days: hiking to Machu Picchu, along mountain paths still built by the Incas, over passes as high as 4,200 metres. It will take us four days; the chasquis (messengers from Inca times) covered the same route on foot in a single day. There’s bound to be a difference.
Unrivalled builders
What a brilliant few days’ walking. Day one started off relatively gently, with a gentle climb and stops along the way at old tambos – rest stops where the chasquis could rest and eat. On day two, we began a serious ascent. And you really feel the climb in the mountains at 4,000 metres – we noticed that straight away. Our lungs still had to get used to the lower oxygen levels at this altitude, even though we’d already spent a few days acclimatising in the city of Cuzco, which lies at an altitude of 3,300 metres. The paths were partly unpaved, and partly consisted of boulders neatly stacked on top of one another, winding through the landscape like long staircases. The fact that these paths still exist almost 700 years after they were built proves once again that the Incas were unrivalled builders.
Dead Woman’s Pass
As we gained altitude, the forests and old fields gave way to rocky mountain ridges, where nothing grew but puna grass and low shrubs. The climb up the highest pass (4,200 metres high, with the ominous name Dead Woman’s Pass) was gruelling, but I will never forget the view. Here, the Andes revealed themselves to us in all their glory: a landscape of mountain peaks, many covered in snow, with dark, mist-filled valleys in between. Deep below us in the V-shaped valley, we could see other hikers who still had a bit of climbing to do. I could have sat there for hours, but we got up and began the descent.
An incredible starry sky
Fortunately, upon arrival at each overnight stop, our beds were all set up. Literally, as the porters had already pitched our tents and laid out the mattresses. Gathered round the campfire, we discussed the day’s adventures whilst enjoying a drink and some popcorn. After sunset, we were treated to an incredible starry sky. Having already descended to 2,600 metres at Wiñawayna on day three, we descended further into the lowlands on the final day. The vegetation gave way to a lush cloud forest, where bromeliads grew on the tree branches and orchids with star-shaped rose-red flowers bloomed along the path. I think this might well have been the most beautiful part of the trek: steep, ancient Inca steps winding their way down through the damp foliage.
Gateway to the Sun
The air is getting warm and humid; round the corner of a large rock, I see a steep stone staircase leading upwards. The final metres of the Inca Trail are now upon me, and the highlight is yet to come. Having reached the top of the stairs, I walk through the Sun Gate. I’ve read plenty about it and seen the photos long ago, but even so, the view from this spot exceeds all my expectations. As if suddenly torn away from the dense vegetation, we now seem to be flying over the forested mountains. As far as the eye can see, there are green, forested mountain peaks and steep valleys. One of the ridges, below us at the foot of an enormous, towering rock peak, is dotted with temples and covered in terraces leading down from the summit. Machu Picchu, quite rightly one of the Seven Modern Wonders of the World. The citadel lies there peacefully in the morning sun, which is briefly dispelled by the mist rising from the valleys. It also seems impregnable, for the slopes of the mountain on which it is built drop steeply down to the Urubamba River, which winds its way halfway round the mountain. I can’t help but sit down and let this breathtaking scene sink in. My guide comes and sits beside me. “I told you,” he says.
