Peru 2008-09 - Road to Machu Picchu

(cont. 5 Jan 09)

We raced along side the Urubamba River , which seemed to be impatience with its blurring continuous rapid rush of curves, ups and downs, overlapping smoothed stubborn gray rocks peeping from the muddy brown waters. I was told this river’s source is from the mighty Amazon, in northern Peru sharing borders with Brazil . The Amazon is a little over 4,000 miles, second only to Africa’s Nile River which is the worlds longest.

When we disembarked in Aguas Calientes, we were to look for a woman named Beatrice. There she was holding a sign with my name like chauffeurs do at the airport. Beatrice, late 30s early 40ish looking, was a slightly built woman, wearing a yellow sun visor, a sleeveless blue picnic checkered blouse, and blue jean pants. She didn’t speak English well, so Maria handled this one.

We had to wait for another group before our trek up the mountain. While waiting for the others, Maria and I talked with the two young ladies from Sweden who were backpacking through South America, up to Mexico . They were with us yesterday on other tours, but are planning an overnight stay here in Aguas Calientes. They were taking time away from school to explore the world. Maria and I both admired them for doing this before they set root and become “grown-ups.” I gave them both a Barack Obama button. They were thrilled.

The previous day, the dark haired Swede had an episode at a lunch buffet. Obviously she knew she was allergic, but probably did not detect the hidden peanut sauce. She had to sit in an ambulance as the group explored Ollanlaytambo another ancient site. Because she could not make the hike, she sent her blond friend to photograph and report what she could not see. Apparently she did not want to miss anything.

In about 30 minutes, the other group arrived on the train. After a five minute gather and divide of Spanish and English speakers, we were off.

The bus ride up to Machu Picchu could be white knuckling and hair rising especially if you were sitting next to the window. Occasional there would be a guard rail on this one lane swindling road as down hill on coming bus traffic squares off challenging you on the surprising “S” curves. Maria sitting next to the window closed her eyes and turned her head praying in Spanish all the way up. After about 30 minutes, we were at the stopping point and then I added an Amen.

Our group consists of about 12 – 14, with about three Americans - Maria, myself, and another guy who was with a Latin woman. Everyone but an older French man understood English pretty well. His wife had to translate for him. They kept up for a while and then kind of disappeared from the group.

Our guide kept us in entrenched with Inca history and knowledge for about two hours, and then we were on our own. It was about 2:30 and we had to be on the bus by 3:30, so Maria and I decided to climb to the Watchman’s Tower which was a good thing, because we could see the sheets of rain slowly coming toward us and the stones downhill would be slippery.

By the time I huffed and puffed my way up to Watchman’s Tower, Maria was smiling down at me as I was almost on my hands and knees. She had been waiting at least 10 minutes. Admittingly, her weekly visits to Balleys paid off. I was really out of shape and this climb proved it. Halfway up, I almost said forget it, but coming down was a smiling white haired dude who looked to be in his 60s. Maria looked at him and looked at me. She said, “If he can do it, you can do it.” I could not let this white haired dude show me up. I took a breath and continued pacing myself almost to a crawl, but I was determined.

When I finally made it, the view was spectacular. My legs quivered to the scene of the majestic natural beauty of the mountains. And what was even more amazing was the fact that the Incas engineering knowledge and technology was on display in these massive smoothly polished well fitted stones. How did they do this with no heavy machinery?

I quickly snapped back to photographer mode and did my thing. “Click, click, click.” I hurried because in the near distance we could see the rain coming. We were only up there about 10 minutes max, but it was worth it.

As gravity would have it, the trip down was a lot less effortless than the reverse. When we got to ground level, we stopped and put on our rain ponchos. Not soaked too much, we made it to the bus on time. In the dry bus, we took a moment to reflect on one of the world’s wonders we just witnessed.