The journey was long - Sydney to Auckland, to Santiago, and finally to Lima. As usual, I slept most of the way.
When I arrived in Lima there was a taxi driver there holding a sign with my name on it, which I'd prearranged with the hostel I was staying at. I'd heard such awful stories about Lima, about how dangerous it is, particularly at the airport, so had organised this in advance to save being mugged on my first day!
The taxi drive was about half an hour from the airport. I spent this time getting used to the surroundings in this unfamiliar continent. Latino music was blaring from every direction, car horns were constantly tooting and the roads were dusty and chaotic. By the time I arrived at the hostel and checked-in, my journey had been around 25 hours, and the time difference was -16 hours from Sydney. I went to the bar for a quick beer, mainly to check it out and get talking to people. After a few short conversations, it was 9pm and I was in bed, not to wake 'til midday the next day!
The guys in the hostel bar (all Aussies) suggest I go to visit some Inca ruins, Huaca Pucllana, a short walk away. For the sake of something to do, I strolled down there and had a tour of this huge archaeological site in the middle of the city. It was OK, but it was an eyesore, and although the guide was great, I wasn't overly impressed. I think knowing that I was going to be doing the Inca trail and visiting Machu Picchu in a week's time made it feel insignificant.After about an hour there, I went to visit the markets, and came to the realisation that I don't need to start buying things on day one of my trip, so I headed back to the hostel (after getting lost for about half an hour)!
Back at the hostel I met a lot of people and had a really good time, mainly in the bar, as usual. The morning following a huge night out, a few of us went into downtown Lima to do a city tour. As in most cities, there are touts everywhere trying to sell you a ticket for something. This one guy promised us an English speaking tour, and so for a small 5 Soles ($2) we followed him to a bus waiting round the corner, waiting to fill up with tourists. Unfortunately for us, the other tourists were of the Spanish-speaking variety, and so we were sat on a minibus driving briefly through the city with no idea of what we were looking at!
The bus then took us through some slums, up the side of a mountain, to the Mirador San Cristobal, which has a viewpoint overlooking the whole city. For someone such as myself, who hasn't been to a South American city, this was an eye-opener. Lima goes on as far as the eye can see, way into the distance, with small shanty houses sprawling into the mountainsides far away. The entire city is covered with a dusty haze, and there is poverty every way you look.
After about 25 minutes of taking the obligatory photos, each one looking the same as the last, regardless of the direction you were facing, we realised our bus had left without us. So our 'English-speaking city tour' which didn't include very much of the city at all and which abandoned us at the top of a mountain, was a bit of a con!!
Luckily we were able to gatecrash another tour bus in order to get back down to where we started.
Sitting back on a bar stool at the hostel, sipping a well earned beer after a day of 'sightseeing', I was planning my next stop on my trip, Huacachina. Huacachina is a tiny oasis in the middle of the desert about 5 hours from Lima, with a population of just 115 people. There's a lagoon in the centre, with a few hostels and restaurants surrounding it. The purpose of visiting this tiny, isolated place, is to go sandboarding in the miles and miles of dunes that surround it.Two of the guys I'd met in Lima were going at the same time as me, so we jumped on a bus together and headed down the coast to Huacachina. The bus journey was mainly coast line, and we went through a number of small shanty towns on the way. It was really interesting to see how these people live. The buildings are only half built, as though they got to the second storey and just gave up before finishing. The tops of the buildings were generally used to dry clothes on a washing line, which amazed me, because the roads were just dirt and gravel, so any clothes would probably be dirtier once they were dry than when they were first hung out.
Once we arrived, having picked up more backpackers en route, we checked into a tiny resort called Bananas. Bananas reminded me a lot of the kinds of places I've stayed at on my travels in Asia. A small place, with a straw-roofed bar in the centre. The rooms were just basic huts, and there was a small swimming pool, surrounded by hammocks. The first person I met there was a local guy named Lewis. Lewis and I got talking - what I've noticed is that the locals like to talk to you in order to practice their English, which doesn't help me to learn any Spanish! As it turns out, Lewis lived in, of all places, Essex, for about 2 years. So following on from many conversations over the 2 days I was there, there is now a Peruvian guy in the middle of the desert talking with an Essex twang!
With a group of now 5 of us we booked onto a couple of tours to fill the short time that we were there. The first was a Pisco winery tour. Pisco is the national tipple, and is popular with backpackers in cocktails such as a Pisco Sour. We spent a couple of hours with an English-speaking guide, going around a winery and having the wine-making process explained to us, before the all important tasting part at the end.
We had a crazy drive to the top in dune buggies. Once we were there, I almost had to be forced to go down. There were about 25 of us altogether, standing there at the top looking out at this vast nothingness. The boys mainly went down the proper way, like snowboarding. However most of us girls went down on our fronts, which I must admit, after getting over the initial fear, was a lot of fun! They drove us to a spot, and just pointed us in the direction that we had to go, which was down 2 or 3 dunes. From there, they'd pick us up, and take us to the next place, where we'd do it again.
Looking back at it, it's pretty spectacular. From the moment you're in that dune buggy ploughing through the sand, to the views across the desert, to then body boarding down the side of what is effectively a sand-mountain. It was certainly an experience and I'm so glad I did it!Back at Bananas, we sat back and drank the red wine that I'd purchased on our winery tour earlier in the day, and planned the next steps. In Huacachina, once you've done the sandboarding, there isn't much else to do.
So the boys went back to Lima, and I continued with one of the girls that I'd met, a South African girl living in London, named Morgen, onto the next stop, Cusco.
Cusco is the historic capital of the Inca Empire and the town that you go to as a gateway to the Inca trail and other treks that get you to Machu Picchu. It's about a 20 hour bus ride from the desert.
I'm quite familiar with long bus rides, so I wasn't fazed by this at all, until I discovered what the roads were like. Cusco is positioned 3300 metres above sea level, in the Andes mountain range. To get there by bus, you spend the majority of that time winding round mountains, swaying from side to side as the bus meanders along these twisted roads. Because of this, it is almost impossible to sleep. You're also climbing steeper and steeper into the mountains, and the air is getting noticeably thinner as you reach the higher altitude.
By the time we arrived, we were far from refreshed, but were ready to explore this new city.
After a chilled night at the hostel, which is recommended to help your body to adjust to the altitude (no drinking, smoking, over-eating) Morgen and I spent the next day sightseeing.
Cusco is surrounded by mountains and a huge amount of Inca ruins, so we decided to visit those closest, Sacsayhuamán (pronounced sexy woman)! Once at the top of this huge hill, the view across the city is spectacular! It's just so peaceful, aside from the beeping of taxi drivers, which seems to be commonplace everywhere I go. Every few blocks in Cusco you come across yet another square or plaza, dominated by a water feature or flower garden. You can see all of this clearly from above the city looking down.Later that day it was time for me to meet the group that I was going to be trekking with over the
The original trail is pricey versus other trips such as the jungle trek etc. I figured that as I was here, it seemed crazy to do anything other than the original. Jungle treks which include rafting and mountain-biking etc aren't specific to the area and can be done anywhere in the world. The only downside to the one I chose was the cost. All up, including renting a sleeping bag etc, it came to about US$660, but it was worth every penny and will remain by far one of the best experiences of my life.
So as I was saying - I was due to have an orientation and meet with my fellow trekkers. There were 10 of us altogether. We had a varied age group, from early twenties to late thirties, and there was an Aussie, 2 Kiwis, a Peruvian, 2 Americans, a Canadian, a Taiwanese, an Irish and myself. We had the initial meet and greets before being told what to expect over the coming days.
I then had to go back to my hostel and pack 2 small bags. One was a day bag which I would carry with me the entire trek, which included necessities such as rain coat, sun cream, insect repellent etc. The second bag was for my clothes for the next four days, which a small Peruvian porter would carry for me for the entire trek.
The next morning I had to get up at 3.30am and organise myself in my 6 bed dorm in the dark. Then, after checking out and leaving my backpack in the lockup, I made my way to the main square in the pitch black and drizzling rain to meet my group and catch the bus. When I arrived, I was greeted by two porters handing out coca tea. Coca tea is traditionally drunk by the locals to give them extra energy and keep them alert (it's made using coca leaves, although it's completely legal)! It's also used to assist with acclimatising to the altitude, so is something that tourists come to rely on when in places like Cusco. We drove for 2 hours to get to the start of the Inca Trail. There we met all 16 of our porters, who each carry 25kg of bags/ tents/ food/ chairs/ tables and so on, to make the trail as leisurely as possible for us tourists. Years previously the porters were taken advantage of and would often carry up to 40kg worth of stuff on this 4 day trek, and most wouldn't even have proper walking shoes. Most of these men come from surrounding villages where work is scarce and wages are low, so they travel to Cusco up to once a week to carry our bags and earn themselves some extra cash. In recent years, regulations have been put in place to ensure they're treated fairly - therefore checks are done at the very beginning of the trail to make sure no bags weigh more than 25kg. If they do, they either have to re-distribute the weight or leave things behind. These guys are machines, and half the size I am!Day one is meant to be one of the easiest, which gave me a bit of a panic about things to come. You only walk 12 kilometres in the whole day, which I thought would be a doddle, considering back in Sydney I walk the 8km journey home most days after work. Of course, I didn't take into consideration the fact that I was already 2720km above sea level, and I was just climbing higher and higher with each step I took. I never really thought of myself as someone that was unfit, but this first day just proved that I was. A few hours in, I noticed that I was having to stop every 10 - 12 steps to catch my breath, as I re-adjusted to the altitude.
When we had our first stop for lunch, I was relieved to be having a break, and also shocked to see thatthe porters were so far ahead of us, that they'd had time to put up a huge tent, and set a table for 12 people, us and our two guides - Elvis & Silvio. When we arrived, some earlier than others (I was around the middle of the group) they greeted us with a glass of fruit cordial, and then we took our seats to enjoy a three course buffet meal, starting with a bowl of soup. I was amazed at how they'd had time, and the facilities to prepare this banquet! Using only what they carried on their backs, we had a table full of food, so much that we couldn't possibly get through it. They overloaded us with carbs in order to give us energy to continue with our trek.
With a belly full of food we continued for the next few hours. Elvis and Silvio would often remind us to stop, take a breath, and look around. Whilst trekking you're so focused on your next steps, on this steep, narrow, mountain-side path, that it's quite easy to forget where you are. Every now and again, you have to look behind you and take in this breath-taking view of mountains beyond mountains beyond mountains. You almost need to take a moment just so that you can give yourself a pat on the back for making it this far. To make the trek just that bit harder, the sun was beating down on us, adding to the discomfort of the journey.
Eventually, towards early evening, we made it to our camp. Of course, by the time we arrived, the porters, who had long since overtaken us, were there, tents up, and with dinner cooking. They stood there and applauded each and every one of us as we made it, red-faced and panting. By the time we ate our carb-loaded dinner, most of us were tucked up in our tents by 8pm. I was in a tent with the only person in our group who didn't speak English, Jiu from Taiwan.
At 6am each tent was woken up with a porter waiting outside with a bowl of warm water and a flannel for every person. Then another porter was coming around with hot coca tea. I wish I could say that I slept well - I was brought up camping, and have no issues being 'at one' with nature. But let's just say I had an upset stomach, which was made worse by the squat toilets that looked like they were only cleaned once a year. So in the morning I was feeling far from fresh, and far from prepared for what lay ahead.After a buffet breakfast which consisted of pancakes and fruit and eggs, we began our day - the toughest day on the trek. As usual, we were long overtaken by the porters who raced ahead at a hundred miles per hour, putting us to shame with their 25kg sacks on their backs.
On this day, you only actually walk a couple of kilometres. The difference is, you're walking up, straight up. There's no point on this day where you're walking on flat ground. Most of the time you're hiking up these uneven, cobbled steps, your legs just begging for a stretch of the path to be level so that they can take a few seconds to recover. It's hard. You have a small backpack on your back, the sun's shining down on you, and you're climbing step after step, using muscles you never knew you had. Our guides had told us a few tricks, such as always steop
