Machu Picchu and the Flight of the Condors

After two weeks in bed suffering from her unidentified illness, Betty was at last on her feet and ready to visit the much anticipated lost Incan city of Machu Picchu.

We rewired her fuel pump so that it runs directly to the ignition fuse, which for the moment seems to work - this would prove the perfect test drive.

The most popular way to make the journey to Machu Picchu is by train to Aguas Caliente, from where it’s a 20 min bus ride or an hour and a half walk up the steep mountain to the site entry.

There is also another way.  

A road leads from Ollytaytambo up through the mountain pass and down into Santa Teresa, where a 4o min taxi brings you to the Hydro - Electric plant, from where you make the three hour walk along the train tracks to Aguas Caliente.

Betty arrived in Santa Teresa at dusk.

Here we relaxed in the 24hr thermal springs and prepared for the mission ahead.

We had acquired some San Pedro Cactus during our time in Cuzco and it was time to start the preparation of the sacred spiritual plant.

Skinned, carefully sliced and well chopped, all we needed now was a pot big enough to handle the rather large amount of slimy green cactus piled up before us.

In the morning we made our way into town where we hunted down a kitchen with a gas stove and of course - an extra large pot.

After 6 hrs, Pedro was ready to travel.

We arrived at the start of the tracks via taxi at around 430pm and began the slow walk into Aguas Caliente.

About 30 mins later the rain started to fall.

With no raincoats, we trudged along the tracks one foot after the other and as night fell the fire flies quickly lit up the mountain valley ahead to show us the way.

Soon we were confronted by a long dark tunnel of which the end none could possibly tell.

Of course, none of us had bought a torch.

With hands clenched tight on jackets in front, we carefully prodded our way through the pitch blackness, wary of the large holes in the track that had been our nemesis from the start, even when we could see 2ft ahead.

Soon the dim light was ahead of us, and we were clear.

Then came the second tunnel.

With the darkness seemingly behind us we at last stepped foot on the platform at Aguas Caliente.

The plan was to buy our tickets to Machu Picchu, find some tasty chicken feast and then camp for the night at the foot of trail up to the site entry so we could get there nice and early for the sunrise.

As we finished off the last chicken bones, the rain really started to come down and suddenly our plan wasn’t looking too good..

Standing outside the restaurant as the rain crashed down into the street, a young boy offered us a room with a couple of single beds and with not a lot of options, we took it.

With a hot shower and the thermarest laid down in between the two beds, this room was fit for three kings.

As the rain hammered down on top of us, we made the decision.

Rain, hail or shine - tomorrow we would take Machu Picchu..

At the tienda across the street we gathered our last vital provisions - 3 of their finest ponchos - Blue, Red and Green respectively - 6 small white plastic bags to ‘waterproof’ our shoes and socks, a 2 litre bottle of water and a pack of Oreos.

The alarm was set for 3′Clock.

We woke to the rain thundering down on the tin roof harder than ever before.

All packed and with Pedro in Bono’s trusty left hand, we leapt out into the stormy dark - the first, and last, flight of the Condors’…

Under cover of darkness we made stealthily to the first tunnel.

Quickly we passed the second and soon we were at the bridge which marked the start of the small steep trail that cuts straight up the mountain side.

Then tragedy struck.

Pedro fell.

Thick green slime spilled out from where the fall had pierced a needles hole in Pedro’s side.

Quick to act, Bono applied pressure to the wound and soon after, the bleeding had stopped.

Pedro would make it, but we had to move fast.

In the panic we had lost our bearings and now, in the cold hard rain, we stood lost in the darkness, waiting there in that moment of doubt and hope.

And then, out of the darkness, all our doubts and fears relieved.

Two dogs jumped out before us from the bushes and led the way ahead into the dark scrub.

Doubt was no more.

Our trusty guides leading the way up the mountain path, we reached the summit within the hour.

Only to find that the guards would not allow us to enter until 6 O’clock, even with the offer of a couple of bucks as planned.

It was 530am and soon the trickle of early birds started to appear from the trail we had just climbed.

It was time.

We administered the slimy thick goo of Pedro into the three silver cups and after several quick, unpleasant gulps, the ritual was done.

Pedro is not known for his taste.

Soon, we three sat high upon the ruins of Machu Picchu as the birds performed their morning dance just for us, as the sun rose up out of the clouds above the mysterious ancient Incan mountain.

Hundreds of tiny sparrows flew in and around us as we sat silent, in awe of the unequalled beauty before us.

The rain had passed for now, but the low clouds and mist held in the wind between the giant mountains, wafting and waving as the unreal terraced valley would be slowly covered up and then revealed once again.

From the Sun Gate to the peak of Wayna Picchu and miles in between, we were in constant wonder at the unbelievable beauty, scale and wisdom of this ancient place.

Machu Picchu is one of the truly amazing sites to see on this earth.

With only a couple of tasty tangerines donated to us by some freindly folk from New Mexico, we were hungry, wet and exhausted when making the steep journey back down the trail we had climbed 12 hrs before.

Along the tracks, through the tunnels, at dusk we arrived back in Aguas Caliente.  

Mission complete.

Who needs television when you can have this…