One of the seven wonders: Machu Picchu

A tingle crawled from the bottom of my spine. Up to that point it hadn’t seemed real. But I was suddenly struck with the full force of reality at 4am: I was going to Machu Picchu, visiting the "Lost City" of the Incas.

Our first view of Machu Picchu

We were up, as we learnt from our Aussie friends, 'at a sparrow's fart!' I climbed out of bed and watched the cloud forest emerge from inky blackness, but I was still hopeful for sunny skies. Apparently every day at Machu Picchu starts like this.

A room with a view: the priest's house

We were first in the queue for the first bus up - you can walk but we wanted to save our stiff legs and sore feet for a full day of exploring. A 20-minute bus ride carried us up the zig-zagging dirt road to the entrance, beyond which lead a stone staircase, bound for the top of Machu Picchu.

We were nervous - the tour company has made an error with both Med's and my tickets - they both said we were 112 years old and had a typo in our passport numbers. Raoul was with us though, and we shuffled in quietly like a pair of 112 year olds.

Salkantay team...we made it!

As we walked into Machu Picchu at the front of the already-forming crowd, the famous mountaintop citadel came into view; it was still dark but I could now see the clear sky above it. The most breathtaking sight - "like Disneyland, for adults" I squeaked. The resident llamas looked down at us: "here we go again," the were probably thinking.

Machu Picchu is known, actually incorrectly, as the "Lost City". It was rediscovered in 1911 by American historian Hiram Bingham. Bingham had been searching for the city of Vilcabamba, the so-called "Lost City of the Inca" where the last of the independent Inca rulers waged a years-long battle against Spanish, when a Quechua family with whom he was staying told him about a nearby mountaintop ruin.

Bingham paid the son, 11-year old Pablito Alvarez, about a dollar to lead him to the ruin we now know as Machu Picchu. Mistaking it for the Vilcabamba, Bingham dubbed it the Lost City of the Inca and the name stuck.

Sunrise over the mountains

Eventually the government of Peru recognised the importance of Machu Picchu and took steps to protect it. Years earlier, unaware that the ruins existed, the government had deeded the entire mountaintop to three local families.

What makes it so special, one of the seven wonders of the world, is that it survived intact, unlike most other Inca sites that were eventually plundered or destroyed by the Spaniards.

Legend says that upon learning about the advancing Spaniards, the Incas erased all signs of trails leading to Machu Picchu and abandoned it rather than allowing their most sacred of sites to fall into the hands of marauders.

I am most grateful that they did. Sadly it did fall into the hands of Yale University, where Bingham took 74 boxes of treasures on the promise of returning them within a few months. Yale has them hidden away to this day much to the disgust of Peru - it was a brave man who we saw wearing his Yale jacket in the ruins.

Machu Picchu's other speciality is the mystery that enshrouds it. The Incas had no system of writing and left no written records, and archaeologists have been left to piece together bits of evidence as to why Machu Picchu was built, what purpose it served, and why it was so quickly vacated. There are so many questions left unanswered, and I like it that way.

Postcard view from the Guard's House

After the initial rush of seeing Machu Picchu wore off, and we’d watched the sun spray it's rays over the top of the mountains, it was time for a tour. Lead by Raoul, our guide from the Salkantay Trek, we walked around the complex for about 2 hours, learning about the sacred temples, the unfinished sites and what life might have been like in the kingdom.

Raoul pointed out the difference in the masonry: painstakingly polished stones were used for religious structures, while rough-hewn stones signalled structures used by commoners. Though theories abound, most now believe that Machu Picchu was a religious centre, occupied primarily by priests, members of the Royal family, and the commoners who served them.

At 10:30am, after refuelling on some snacks outside the main gate (you aren't supposed to eat inside), we climbed to the Guard House, the original entrance to Machu Picchu, for the postcard-perfect view of one of the seven wonders of the world.

Then it was onwards and upwards to the Inca bridge, a very narrow, beautifully intact pathway that clings to a sheer cliff. Incredible to think it's survived earthquakes, storms and landslides over 600 years. Even more amazing was discovering that the Incas appeared to make their structures earthquake-proof.

The Inca bridge

We could linger too much on this thought, as it was time to climb Wayna Picchu for a birdseye view of Machu Picchu.

When I first lay eyes on Wayna Picchu, I had no idea how I’d get up it with my tired legs and throbbing toes. I’d heard there were ropes on the steep sections (actually they are steel cables), but from below, it looked impossibly steep.

But believe it or not, there is a trail that winds up the mountain face, and it only took me about 20 minutes to get up it. And what a view!

It is thought that priests and virgins made this climb every morning at dawn to welcome the new day. Once was enough for me, though.

The view from Wayna Picchu

We then bid farewell to our fellow Salkantay trekkers, and completed the pretty tough loop to the Gran Caverna (Big Cave) with our Aussie friends, James and Fleur, who just happened to be at Machu Picchu at the same day.

Before our final climb of the day, we sat cross-legged on one of the broad agricultural terraces and watched the day’s 2,500 (or more) visitors abandon the site. By 3 p.m, we had Machu Picchu almost to ourself as the grassy central plaza glistened an amber-green and the ruins turned a burnished gold in the retreating sun.

We climbed up slowly up to the Sun Gate, where one of the original Inca trails approaches the kingdom. The low sun was blinding, but the view was another of the amazing vistas that leave people speechless here.

On our way back down, the llamas were back, surveying their land, making sure no tourists outstayed their welcome. We stayed right until we were asked to leave (and I was actually chased by one of the llamas!).

It is thought 60% of Machu Picchu still lies tangled in the roots of the jungle around us, so who knows what it will look like 50 years from now.

I hope that they keep it that way though: buried in layers of mystery and mostly reclaimed by Pachamama (Mother Earth).

Salkantay trek: on the trail to Machu Picchu

Unlike the classic Inca Trail trek, which requires you book a spot at least 4-5 months in advance (in high season, June-August), the Salkantay Trek can be booked in Cusco upon arrival, even the day before, if the whim takes you.

OK, so it wasn't all hard work...

So that's what we did, choosing the harder, quieter trek over the famous one - with less Inca ruins along the way, but with more mountains to gawp at.

Day 1:
Awake at 3.45am, we wiped the sleep from our eyes, rolled out of bed, and layered up in all our clothes to fight the icy breath of early morning air.

Under cover of darkness, we drove to meet our fellow trekkers, Ben, Melissa and Heleni - our group of five for the next five days.

Horses work the mountains

The sky began to brighten as we drove from Cusco to Mollepata, a small pueblo, where we had stocked up on a "Americano" breakfast of bread and eggs with mate de coca (coca tea).

We purchased handmade walking sticks for 5Soles each (about £1.10), adorned with knitted animals - mine was a white llama.

As we set off on the trek upwards, hummingbirds and horses all around, the sun was beating down strong. I was covered in a now-familiar layer of suncream and mosquito repellent.

Mountains by moonlight

After 3 hours of walking through the hills and into the mountains, we stopped for lunch: soup, and a rustic version of pollo saltado (chicken, vegetables and rice).

Gabriel was our grumpy, but lovable cook; Raoul, our beaming, sincere and quite spiritual guide.

After a few more hours of climbing in the shadow of a huge, iced mountain, we arrived to camp at Soraypampa.

Our tents were pitched within a cosy encampment to protect us from the cold night, and we ate dinner by candlelight.

Early morning for our toughest day

The cold was biting, but it was worth standing outside, torches off, to look at the moon-soaked mountains. I craned my neck up and looked at star-filled sky - the kind of bright stars you only see when you take the time to physically remove yourself from the modern world.

We all slept well that night on our inflatable mattresses, buried deep in our feather bolsas de dormir (sleeping bags). Well, until 4.30am at least.

Day 2:
I don't think Med has ever been up so early on his birthday before: 4.30am, and we're woken with a steaming cup of coca tea in our tents from Gabriel.

Blowing coca leaves to Pachamama

By the time we’d eaten breakfast (Med had "Happy Birthday" written on his pancake in dulce de leche), the sun was already reflecting brightly off the glaciers around us.

The highlight of the 4-day Salkantay Trek to Machu Picchu is the opportunity to walk in the shadow of the snow-capped Salkantay peak (6,264 meters).

As we walked up through the valley, Raoul conducted a ceremony to give offerings to Pachamama to guide us on a safe trip - coca leaves and sugar cane rum (just like sambuca). I really dislike sambuca, especially at 7.30am!

Almost at the top!

We shared some coca leaves (used to make cocaine), along with a natural “accelerator” which when combined with the leaves, speeds up the effects.

All local people in South America who are at altitudes over about 1000 metres use them, great wads of them, in their mouths.

Within a minute or two of chewing on the leaves and tucking them inside your cheek, your mouth goes numb. It's like a caffeine shot - we had a spring in our step - and helps you cope with the affects of altitude.

In the shadow of Salkantay

Refocusing on the trail, the views continued to get more and more jaw-dropping as our hearts beat harder and harder. But I was loving every minute. It was as if I was running on pure adrenaline that morning (with a little help from the coca leaves).

The closer we got to the 4,650 meter mountain pass, the clearer we could see a perfect ring around the sun. The landscape had changed dramatically in the 750 meters we’d climbed. Gone were the green grasses, replaced by the rocky, moon-like landscapes often seen above 4,000 meters.

Mountain fashion, in the hail

The lack of other people on the Salkantay was an unexpected surprise, quite different form the 500 people a day on the Inca Trail.

Euphoria struck us all as we took a photo of the sign marking the high point of the trail, and I handed Med his first birthday beer to celebrate!

We then left offerings to Pachamama once again (a strawberry lolly, two chocolates, a cracker, some dregs of beer, an apple, three raisins, coca leaves and a corner of cereal bar - a balanced meal all round).

But the hardest part of the day wasn’t over, it was the following 5 hours it took to descend 1,750 meters that took its toll. While my lungs were happier, my toes didn’t appreciate going down, and within a few hours, I was starting to feel sharp pangs of pain.

Dog-pig romance

As if god's answer was to take my mind of it, there followed a hail storm in the valley, which forced Med and I to don the very stylish, plastic ponchos we had purchased, and not used, in the jungle. When the sun was out again, we saw curly-tailed chinchillas perching on rocks.

When we finally arrived in Chaullay, and I removed my shoes and socks, I was greeted by 3-4 painful blisters on each foot. To ease the pain, we had a few birthday beers for Med, and were kept entertained by a dog and pig who had become best friends in the small settlement where we camped.

Day 3:

Good morning, day 3!

Rising around 6am to coca tea delivered to our tents, we said goodbye to the dog/pig pair, our horseman and horses, and began walking along a dirt road that follows the Lluskamayu River.

A "rustic" version of the cable car

We followed the river for the entire day’s walk in the sunshine, eating freshly-picked passionfruit and being winched across a cable cart to the middle of the rocky river.

It was supposed to be an easy day at just 6-7 hours but it was my toughest due to the sharp, and at times, crippling, pains from my blisters.

Still, the reward for getting this far was a dip in the natural hot springs outside Santa Teresa in the bathing light of the almost-full moon.

Day 4:
Today, I walked 12kms in $2 flip flops. Thankfully not the whole way, as I decided to get a bus with all the plant workers to Hydroelectrica (the dam area) to save my toes for my Machu Picchu pilgrimage the following day.

Shanty town alongside the railway

We followed the train track, twice having to hug the side as a train passed, and sneaking glimpses of Machu Picchu up above and watching people the size of ants walking on the far side of the ruins.

With our excitement about that aside, it was an ethereal landscape of jagged-toothed mountains heaved up around the latte-coloured Urubamba River. Latte, because of the sewage from Aguas Calientes and Cusco, sadly.

It was with a mix of excitement and relief that we finally walked up the road that runs from Machu Picchu’s main entrance to the town of Aguas Calientes.

Machu Picchu somewhere in the distance

Situated along the river, with the train tracks running straight through the centre, it’s a tourist town in the truest sense of the term. But it meant a shower, a bed and a good feed before the pièce de résistance the following day.

I was too excited to sleep.

Sun worshipping on the Isla del Sol

Originating from Cusco, Peru the Inca empire once stretched north to Ecuador, south to northern Chile, east to the coast, and west through the Andes and partway into the Amazon.

Lake Titicaca

Therefore, the Inca tradition, it's tales and ancient ruins thread through some of the most beautiful parts of South America, including the Isla del Sol, in Lake Titicaca (the world's highest navigable lake).

The Isla del Sol is the legendary Inca creation site and the birth place of the sun in Incan mythology.

Inca ruins on Isla del Sol

After a night in Copacabana (sadly, there was no showgirl named Lola, with yellow feathers in her hair), we took a boat across to the island, meeting friends along the way.

Despite being 4000 metres above sea level, the sun beats down and this rather dry, dusty island to give the impression of being in the Mediterranean. The island curves around in a series of little bays, against the shores of which the water shines greeny-turquoise.

La Mesa de Sacrificio

On arrival, we traversed the cobbled streets to visit the little museum in Cha’llapampa, which contains Incan artefacts and treasures from underwater excavations in Titicaca. From there it was a good 30-40 min walk up to the north of the island, snowy mountains shimmering in the lake and donkeys sauntering along the worn pathway.

We visited La Mesa de Sacrificio (Sacrifice Table) a rock table with 12 rock chairs around it symbolising the 12 months of the year (also in the Inca calendar) and the Inca ruins here - a little taster of what was to come in the next week.

Stunning sunset

With friends, we then walked the beautiful pathway from north to south, although it came at a cost. There's an interesting - typically-Bolivia - taxing method at work on the island. At first it's 10 Bolivianos for the ruins and northern part of the island, then another 15 for the central part and, just when you think you're done, you have to pay another 5 to get into Yumani, the southern village.

We were broke by the time we had reached the end of the walk (although, now I think about it, that's less than £3 each - it's all relative!), but not too broke to afford a beer and a well overdue menu del dia.

Even more beautiful sunrise

The views and setting was bliss as we trotted up to the mirador to watch sunset. We started to believe this island really did give birth to the sun when we saw the sun go down and set the sky on fire - the deepest red I've ever seen at sunset.

It was so special we braved the dark and cold for sunrise, which was even more spectacular than sunset, a pink, milky glow turning into a raging rouge behind the white mountains- and we had it all to ourselves this time, with just another couple we had met.

This completed our sun worshipping in the Island of the Sun - I could have stayed for a week for more of those moments.