Day 1: Km 82 (9,000 ft) to Wayllabamba (9,840 ft), via Llaqtapata (8,692 ft)
We were picked up at the hotel by a young Peruvian who spoke incomprehensible English. He turned out to be one of the assistant guides, but I still don't know his name because I could never really understand what he said. The 4 hour bus ride to the start of the trail included what seemed like 15 pit stops picking up trekkers, porters and other random locals, as well as several pit stops on the way for reasons unclear.
We drove to Km 82 where we would starting hiking, though the first day's trail was not yet the real Inca Trail. Our first scenic rest stop was one of the only two places on this side of Peru where Chicha (a 'sacred offering to Pacha Mama' aka 'really strong beer') was available. All the guides, including ours, make a pit stop here.
Every day the porters set-up a lunch tent, in which they served hot tea and snacks and then a hot lunch. Then they take everything down and run ahead of us to the campsites to set-up tents. While waiting for lunch, our trekking group instantly bonded. We were 5 Californians, 1 Brit and 1 Dutch.
We passed through Llaqtapacta, the first of many ruins. This night's campsite was probably one of the most beautiful, plus we were befriended by a little girl named Gloria - who sold water and beer. She was dubbed 'beer girl' by the guys of course. At this point, everyone was feeling good, still relatively clean, and everything was hunky dory. I slept well on the first night (and as it turns out the only night of good sleep). We had no idea what we'd gotten ourselves into.
Day 2: Pacaymayu (11,480 ft), via Warmiwanusca (13,776 ft)
This day was brutal. We had to climb just under 4,000 ft (from 9,840 ft to 13,776 ft), and then come back down. Most of the group was fast and was up farther ahead. During the ascent, I kept trying to think of the Swahili words for "slowly slowly", that the Tanzanian porters kept repeating to us on Kili, but could not for the life of me remember what they were (it's "polepole"). Maybe I jinxed myself because I climbed too fast and got nauseous. I slowed down so that I could make it to the top, but game is over once nausea sets in.
The minute we reached camp, I dove into the tent to rest. Over the next few hours, I felt progressively worse and worse, until I started to panic with thoughts about how I would get off this god forsaken mountain. ("What if I don't make it to Machu Picchu, how the hell am I going to get down??" "I can't not make it to Machu Picchu!") I was familiar with the nausea, but not the fever chills, faintness, numbing sensation in my fingers and toes, and finally insomnia.
I'd been drinking pretty concentrated coca tea, and was convinced this was making me high and not able to sleep (never mind the more logical explanation that it was the altitude). But I mean, coca tea gives you energy and opens up your blood vessels so not so far from 'high' right?
For about 5 hours, I repeatedly cycled through these thoughts - a.) don't freak out b.) pray to Pacha Mama ("mother earth") to help me feel better c.) contingency plans for if I didn't get better d.) I have to pee (again). Finally, after forcing down some dinner, I finally fell asleep - oh delicious sleep!
Day 3: WinayWayna (8,692 ft), via Runkuraqay (12,470 ft), Sayacmarca (11,472 ft) and Puyupatamarca (11,930 ft)
Thanks to Pacha Mamma almighty! Even though I got up to pee about 500 times throughout the night, the 12 hours of sleep at least cured me. And lucky for that because we hiked ~ 10 hours this day. Armed with cake for breakfast (yup the porters baked a cake at 11,000 ft elevation with no 'oven'), we started out on a long day of more uphill ("but not as hard as the second day" says the guide) and Incan ruins. We were grungy but in good moods, since everything was easy compared to the previous day. It was dusk and rainy by the time we got to camp, and there was an hour line for the hot showers. Another day of dirty wouldn't kill us. Camp was gross. There was a concrete structure within which were bathrooms, a dining mess (each trekking group to a table), and a water and beer store that sold small bottles of water for 5 soles (more than triple the price!) each (no more free boiled water from the porters). We celebrated making it this far with beers and popcorn.
Day 4: Machu Picchu (7,872 ft.), via Intipunku
We woke up at 4 a.m. to get ready for the last two hours of trekking to Machu Picchu. It was confusion and mayhem in the mess hall, with lines for the (now) smelly bathroom and hikers and porters milling about. It was a rat race (literally, people were sprinting), to the checkpoint (gate where they check passports and tickets) and then to Intipunku ("Sun Gate" and official entrance and first vantage point to the Machu Picchu area). At the checkpoint, we had to wait in the rain for like 30 minutes until the gate opened at 6 a.m., then the gate officials (obviously relishing this power and taking their sweet time) were 7 minutes late. argh. It was all worth it (of course), Machu Picchu is other-worldly (like literally, it looks like aliens just plopped a city of stones down into this valley in the mountains). According to our guide for Machu Picchu, who used to be a trekking guide and had counted the number of steps climbed, we had climbed in total 5,000 steps along the Inca Trail!
And, because we didn't get enough of the steps, we decided to climb Wayna Picchu mountain (the mountain that overlooks Machu Picchu city) to get an aerial view of the city that supposedly looks like a condor (symbol of the Upper World or Heavens). That day I'd eaten a pancake for breakfast at 4 a.m., 2 Luna bars, lima bean nuts, and trail mix, plus I hadn't slept a wink the night before (that pesky insomnia again). My energy was spent, but somehow I made it to the top (again). Oh, I could kinda see the condor, if you tilt your head 180 degrees and squint.
