La Paz

Formally known as Nuestra Senora de La Paz, or Our Lady of Peace, the big smoke of La Paz is a bustling city of 1.4 million at the bottom of a hole in the altiplano. The city centre, or el centro, sits at the bottom of a canyon at about 3600 m, while the rest of the city stretches up the preposterously steep canyon walls up to the rim of the altiplano at about 4100 m. La Paz is the “defacto” capital of Bolivia, making it the highest seat of government in the world (defacto because federal departments are shared with the city of Sucre).

At this elevation, basically everything gets to be labelled “the highest whatever in the world”, including the airport, which sits up on the altiplano just outside town at 4061 m, and is, wait for it...the highest international airport in the world (with all kinds of landing/takeoff adjustments due to reduced air pressure). Then there’s the “highest Irish pub in the world”, and of course the “highest professional sports stadium in the world”. Interesting story actually concerning that one. In 2007, FIFA (futbol’s international governing body) banned La Paz’s stadium from holding official World Cup matches. There were too many protests from other teams stating that the home team had an unfair advantage due to the altitude/oxygen issue (which is very real btw). But after a series of protests from the Bolivians, FIFA relented and gave them an exemption (the official FIFA rule is no stadiums over 3000 m can hold FIFA matches). Things get interesting when you’re living at 4000 m.     

The two-day ride from Copa was an adventure – our first real taste of nowhere Bolivia. The riding itself was fantastic. Climbing out of Copa, the remarkably good road twists and turns up into the Puna (high-elevation grasslands similar to our tundra) to about 4300 m then drops back down to the altiplano at 3850 m or so. Much of the ride hugs the south shores of Lake Titicaca making for stunning views. At one point, riding through some very aromatic pine-eucalyptus forests with sparkling blue water below, we were pinching ourselves to make sure we weren’t in the Mediterranean or some such place. Very nice.

We overnighted in a middle-of-nowhere town along the way, and came to some realizations. As mentioned in previous posts, Ecuador is a bit more run down than Columbia, Peru is a bit more run down than Ecuador, and, Bolivia is a lot more run down than Peru. A collection of buildings off in the distance (in most places referred to as a town), which usually represents offerings of civilization useful to us (e.g., stores, accom, food), cannot be counted on for anything, and more often than not is just that: a collection of buildings, usually mud or stone, and usually unfinished and seemingly unoccupied. Looking back, middle-of-nowhere Bolivian infrastructure makes Columbia seem like downtown Toronto. We may have to rethink our strategy of not carrying food or extra water. Being self-sufficient is probably going to be important. Our breakfast of mayonnaise and stale bread may not be sustainable over the long haul. However, partially finished brick structures provide good shelter from oncoming storms! There’s always a bright side.

All of that said, descending (45 minutes of coasting on a freeway) into La Paz was surreal. We landed at the Adventure Brew Pub B&B (yes, you read that correctly) that Amy found on-line. Within hours of stale bread, mayonnaise, and no running water, we were sitting on a rooftop patio enclosed in glass, listening to trendy music, drinking a micro-brewery amber ale, served to us by a bro from California. What a head spinner. Life in the big city.

Speaking of life in big cities, one of the big draws to La Paz is the shopping. Known for it’s buzzing markets, everyday is market day in La Paz. The streets are bursting with colours and endless fabrics. Whatever you want or need, big or small, from q-tips to plasma screens, it’s for sale on the streets of La Paz. The big ticket item here for gringos is Alpaca wool and the infinite forms it can be spun and woven, from socks to sweaters to guitar cases. And at Bolivian prices (alpaca sweaters for 10-15 bucks), it’s hard not to succumb. Amy grits her teeth every time I remind her that we can’t carry anything, so don’t even go there. But she has to, and continues to torture herself by browsing every step of the way. One of the downsides to long-term cycle touring is that you can’t really take on more stuff, so market opportunities like these, to people like Amy, are like waving a hot dog in front of a dog’s nose. It’s painful to watch. Funny, we both talk about someday being on a normal trip where we could splurge on the markets to our hearts content. Next trip!

So we’re taking a few days to soak in the big-city vibe, including some tasty micro-brewery ales, hot showers with real pressure, high-speed internet, and all the other trappings of civilization. From here we climb out of La Paz and continue our quest south into the “real’ Bolivia and towards the Argentine border. As always, more on that soon. Hasta la proxima. 

 

Feliz Navidad from the birthplace of the sun

Bolivians don’t seem to get as excited about Christmas as we do. While there’s the odd little fake Christmas tree around (although we did see a tree strapped to a car roof – Canadian-style), and the odd tacky electronic device spitting out pseudo Christmas carols (think jingle bells coming from your watch), there’s not much Feliz going on. I don’t think they do the mall Santa arriving via helicopter or on a fire engine. In fact, Santa doesn’t seem to be part of the picture here at all. If you’re a Christmas keener – i.e., Christmas isn’t Christmas without the decorations, Christmas sweaters, mulled wine, and the Michael Buble Christmas CD – do not come to Bolivia for Christmas. Although, that’s kind of self-evident isn’t it J

So we’ve been kickin’ back the past few days here in Copa, enjoying daily trips to the market, and a side trip to Isla del Sol. As mentioned last post, we’re milking our relatively luxurious accom set-up so that we spend Christmas here, instead of taking a chance with La Paz (big city of). Contrary to what we were expecting from the weather, it’s been surprisingly good. Mostly sunny skies and 15 to 20-degree days. Pleasant surprise given the middle of the rainy season. You know, it’s funny. This is the umpteenth time the weather isn’t what it’s “supposed to be”. Our first encounter with that was in Columbia, pretty much right out of the gates and our first night on the road. Hernan, our Columbian host was overcome by frustration trying to explain the Columbian Caribbean seasons to us. “Well, it’s supposed to be our wet season, but it hasn’t rained in 6 weeks...things are changing.” That seems to be the bottom line: things are changing.

One of the bigger draws to Copa is access to the infamous Isla del Sol, which, true to its name was indeed the island of sun for our 3-day village-to-village trek. A 2-hr barco (boat; why it’s a barco here and a lancha in Puno?) ride took us to the north end of the island where we found a basic bed for the night (basic = 4 walls, a roof, and a bed; you want what?...toilet paper?!). And, interestingly, a white-sand beach right out of the Caribbean, complete with two Euro chicks in bikinis. Uhh, where did we just beam in from? G-strings in Bolivia. Not sure who was more surprised, us, or the little old Quechua ladies sweeping their dirt floors. Things are changing.

The pre-Inca Arymara inhabitants called the island Titi (puma) Kala (rock), which is the namesake of the lake. The Inca considered the island to be the birthplace of the sun and several other important entities. In turn, the contemporary indigenous people of Peru and Bolivia regard these legends as their version of creation. No surprise then, this is one important island around here!

A semi-arid, pseudo-Mediterranean chunk of rock about 70 km² large, Isla del Sol boasts some of the most beautiful and striking scenery in the region. Here again, no roads, no combustion engines. All transport is by foot or donkey. The island is riddled with Inca and pre-Inca ruins, including a magnificent Inca “road” running down the spine of the island from north to south. The weather was bluebird for our traverse of the island, and an absolutely stunning hike along the Inca pavement. Views from the ridge tops were second to none. The south end of the island hosts more of what we call civilization including an array of hostels and pizza restaurants. We graciously accepted a cliff-edge table overlooking the universe to enjoy a sunset pizza and a not-too-bad bottle of 3-dollar Bolivian wine. Wine is getting better and cheaper as the distance between us and the Argentine border gets smaller. On another side note, it’s fascinating how pizza has become the default gringo-travel-food all over the world. No complaints...it’s my favourite food group!

So Christmas in Copa. Our plan is to trade up to a place with a kitchen for the 24^th and 25^th. Amy wants a Christmas feast (again, no complaints here!). I agree that it would be difficult to prepare a turkey dinner on our MSR camp stove (which has however been providing delicious one-pot meals for us lately). Although, finding a turkey could be an impossible task. We actually have no idea what the locals do on the big day. Again, not much hype on the streets so far. The town cathedral – another fine example and bastion of Spanish colonialism – should be an interesting place for us to visit; midnight mass maybe? Pass the egg nog.

From the birthplace of the sun, Merry Christmas Everyone! Feliz Navidad! Joyeux Noel!

 

 

 

Adios Peru...Hola Bolivia!

(note: fibre-optic internet does not seem to have made it to Bolivia yet, and has a very hard time dealing with photos -- reduced photo sets into the foreseeable future)

Another day, another border crossing. Despite all the on-line hype about the dreaded border crossings, we sailed through another one. This one was actually one of the easiest. No line-ups, no gringos, just like clockwork. Once you understand the Latin American border system, which requires one to have an exit stamp from the country you’re leaving, then followed by a dated entrance stamp from the country you’re entering, you’re laughing. Where the actual “border” resides is actually irrelevant. No one is standing on the road checking people going by. It’s all about the passport stamps and finding the right guy in the right building with the right stamp. Our panniers could be loaded top to bottom with cocaine, and no one would know or care (but that would be rather stupid).

So Peru. In retrospect, a good place, no regrets. Despite that fact that we literally flew over a gigantic piece of it, what we saw and did – the best parts we think – were worthy missions. In total we spent 37 nights in Peru. Ironically, the majority of that was spent off the bikes, either soaking up sand and surf, hiking in the mountains, or island-hopping in a boat. Kind of speaks to the fun and adventure to be had in this land of the Inca (we didn’t even scratch the surface).

OK, Peru trip stats and Amy and Rob’s top pros/cons on Peru...drum roll please:

Total kms on bikes: 939
Number of riding days: 13
Average kms per riding day: 72
Cheapest accom*: $7
Most expensive accom*: $30
Average cost per night accom*: $21
Highlights: Beaches of the north, high Andes of the south (do I need to say Machu Picchu?)
Highest elevation: 4610 m (Salkantay Pass)
Lowest elevation: 0 m (Mancora)
Rob’s fav street food: salteñas (going to be hard to beat)
Amy’s least fav local beverage: Pisco
(*accom = private room)

 Amy’s top pros/cons on Peru:

 

         +                                                                         —

Salkantay Trek/Machu Picchu            heavy horse blankets piled 6 thick on a bed
Highland grazing farm animals          vehicle horns
South America on steroids                  getting gringoed

Rob’s top pros/cons on Peru:

 

         +                                                                       —

great food                                                 insane drivers

big snowy mountains                              incomprehensible Spanish
wine is getting better and cheaper      general lack of street food**

 **Note: salteñas could be the best street food item on the planet, however, they only appeared at the end of our sojourn through Peru, and only in one town (Puno). In general, food on the streets was lacking.  

The 2-day ride from Puno (Peru) carried us across into Bolivia and to the resort town of Copacabana (aka Copa). As mentioned previously, not the infamous Copa, Brazil (the subject of Barry Manilow fame), but Copa, Bolivia – population 6000, elevation 3800 m, and nestled on the south shore of Lake Titicaca upon South America’s altiplano (Peru and Bolivia share Lake Titicaca). The site of Bolivia’s only public beach, Copa appears to be popular with vacationing Bolivians (La Paz, Bolivia’s capital, is only a 2-hr drive away). Although, who would venture into the 10-degree water is beyond us (haven`t seen any swimmers yet). But the scenery is stunning and there is plenty to keep a gringo traveller busy.

The ride from Puno has confirmed our fears: Bolivia is cold. Amy is pretty much done with it already. Of course writing to a predominantly Canadian audience, “cold” is a relative term. It’s not winter-in-Canada cold, but not what one thinks of when cycling for fun either. Our timing is perfect for their rainy season, which means we can expect a lot of cold rain (5 to 10^oC). Nights are down-jacket weather. We have officially unearthed all of our cold-weather clothing that has been buried in our panniers for the past 4 months, including my very sexy wool tights J And, we are in the process of supplementing our stores. Amy picked up a smashing pair of tights (20% wool, 20%spandex, 60%rabbitfur) for the outrageous sum of 4 dollars. I’m on the lookout for a pair of gloves to beef up my rather girly pair of Swix cross-country ski gloves, which just aren’t going to cut it around here. However, when the sun is out, it’s hot, so there is hope! Here’s to el sol...please show us your power and have pity on two silly Canadians trying to cross the altiplano on bikes.

On a high note, Amy’s on-line accommodation sleuthing skills have become second to none (new talent...who knew?). As such, we have landed what could be our best accom situation thus far. A lovely Inca-motif suite with private garden and view of Lake Titicaca. With the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, one would be forgiven to think vacation home in Tuscany (Amy is in absolute heaven). Given our current surroundings, described as “enchanting” and “charming” by Lonely Planet, and the proximity to Christmas, we have decided to milk our stay here in Copa so that it overlaps with 25 December – in other words, Christmas in Copa! The alternative is to make our way to the big smoke of La Paz, a crime-ridden city of 1.4 million, and spend Christmas in the midst of the urban chaos. But that would be wrong.

So we’re digging in and going to stay put for a while. The area has a lot to offer, including another island called Isla del Sol (sun island), which sounds intriguing. It’s also a good chance to clean the bikes, gear up for the cooler weather, and hey, just get used to being in Bolivia. So that’s the plan. More on Isla del Sol and Copa in the days ahead.  Adios.

 

 

 

 

Lake Titicaca

Birthplace of the sun, and indeed civilization itself – as believed by the Inca and pre-Inca inhabitants – Lake Titicaca is South America’s largest lake and epicentre of highland culture in this part of the world. At 3800 m elevation and 8400 km² (21 times bigger than Kootenay Lake), it is the highest navigable body of water on earth.

The main draw to Lake Titicaca for us gringos is the numerous inhabited islands where indigenous life continues, for the most part, unchanged for generations. Our three-nights-three-islands mission started with a lancha (boat) out of Puno. First stop was the infamous floating “islands” of Uros. Inhabited by the Uro – an indigenous pre-Inca people who speak a language called Ayamara – the Uro originally began their floating existence to escape their enemies, namely the Inca, and just stayed. The “floating” part of it comes from the construction of “platforms” (or islands) made from a locally abundant, and of course buoyant, large bulrush sedge called totora. Hard to believe, but families dispersed among 74 floating platforms and amounting to about 2000 people have been living for generations upon platforms constructed entirely from totora. About a metre or two thick and with the consistency of a rigid sponge, the platforms need regular reinforcement as they rot out from the bottom. Along with the “islands” themselves, totora is also the raw construction material for everything from housing to bed mats to watercraft. Sleeping in a reed hut on a floating mat of bulrush in the middle of an ancient Andean lake could be the most unique experience we have encountered thus far – surreal at the very least.

A 3-hr lancha ride the next day brought us to Isla Amantani. Inhabited by about 4000 Quechua-speaking residents, the island allows no cars, no machines, and no dogs. All agriculture and construction is done by hand. Silence at last! One of the highlights is that islanders organize homestays for gringos making the overnight journey. A homestay means you stay with a family in their home and get a room with meals for the night. While basic and rustic accom (sometimes a tad too much), it’s an incredible peek into traditional life. Sometimes, pretty much right out of a UNICEF ad campaign (unfortunately).

Sopa de quinoa (quinoa soap) is the local specialty. Yum! After heading out to explore the various pre-Inca ruins and getting caught in a downpour complete with ball-bearing size hail, the sopa was muy rico! In an ironic twist, given all the languages we’re dealing with on these islands, Spanish is the common denominator and everyone’s second language. Makes for interesting dinner conversations trying to convey in our broken Spanish what Canada is like to an indigenous Quechua-speaker from a remote island in a lake at the top of the world. Our phrase book doesn’t cover that.

Day three, and another lancha to another island called Isla Taquile. Same kind of story here in terms of no roads, no cars, no machines, no dogs. Another silent night...not a blaring TV in earshot! Although inhabited again by Quechua-speakers, the islanders have a distinct look and culture. Everyone dons traditional clothing , and is involved in making handicrafts resulting in, according to UNESCO, some of the best handmade garments in the world. In an intriguing twist, knitting is exclusively performed by men – one can only surmise that without cars to fix or lawns to mow, it’s the only job left! J Women on the other hand exclusively spin the yarn and weave. Seems to work for them, and the men proudly go about town knitting their wares.

Day four, back on the lancha and another 3-hr ride back to our base in Puno. And we’ve only seen a small part of the lake! So ya, back to base to regroup for a couple nights. Here in Puno we may have uncovered the single BEST STREET FOOD IN THE UNIVERSE: Saltenas, basically a chicken-pot-pie baked in the form of a turn-over. At 40 cents a pop, I could live on these. They have been my go-to lunch every day. It would also be breakfast and dinner, but Amy doesn’t get as excited as I do over these kinds of things :-)

 

Tomorrow we’re back on the bikes and heading south along Lake Titicaca to the Bolivian border. It’s a bit daunting because we’re steamrolling into the rainy season around here, which at 4000 m or so, means cold and wet. We’ll see how we make out. First Bolivian stop is the town of Copacabana on the south end of Lake Titicaca. No, not the Copacabana near Rio, Brazil...but go on, start singing: “at the Copa, Copacabana...music and passion were always the fashion at the Copa...”. Now just try to get that out of your head. After about a week in the area, we can’t. OK, getting ahead of ourselves here. More on crossing into Bolivia and Copa soon. Chau chicos.

 

Cuzco to Puno: onto the Altiplano

We rolled into Puno yesterday...tired, hungry, wind-blasted, and sunburnt. It was a rather rigorous 6 days of riding. From Cuzco, which is in Peru’s central highlands, the route climbs up and over Abra La Raya, the 4338-m pass marking the beginning of South America’s Altiplano. The Altiplano (literally “high plain”), hovering around 3800 m, is the second highest and most expansive high-elevation plateau in the world – the highest and biggest being the Tibetan Plateau.

The initial ride out of Cuzco, and staying in the small towns of the central highlands, was great exposure to the indigenous elements of central Peru. The women especially seem to be outdoing themselves in the fashion department. Quechua women’s dress is a fusion of Inca, pre-Inca, and Spanish-colonial traditions. Technically, each region or village has a unique style, but more and more women are simply wearing other traditional clothing that they fancy, regardless if it pertains to their region. The hats are especially wild and crazy. Sitting drinking a coffee in the market brings on a whole new meaning to “people-watching”...hours of entertainment. The challenge though is taking pictures without getting a slap in the forehead (they really don’t like having their picture taken).

The 1300-m (vertical) approach to the pass climbs gradually, making it not-so-bad from an elevation-gain perspective. The real kicker though is the oxygen depravation. I was definitely sucking air and couldn’t get to the top soon enough. Fortunately for me I carry the camera, and could therefore use the “taking pictures” excuse for stopping every 5 minutes. Sherpa Amy on the other hand, appears to have the altitude gene and charged the pass like a Llama in disguise. No issues there.

To break up the climb we decided to (more like “had to”) take advantage of a funky aguas calientes (hot springs) in a place called Occobamba. It’s a local community-run operation, not intended for gringo tourists, and consequently is a bit rough around the edges. But hey, hot steamy water in the middle of the Andes, and a bed for the night (7 bucks)...couldn’t pass that up. Once all the Peruvians left at the end of the day, including a rambunctious high-school soccer (or should we say futbol) team who did not understand the “no splashing” rule of hot springs, we had the pools to ourselves and watched the stars come out over the mountains. Not a bad way to spend an evening.

Next morning we awoke to crisp mountain air and fresh snow in the mountains. Yikes! But morning sun and lifting clouds made for stunning views up to the pass. The pace was slow, so we had lots of time to enjoy! At the pass, looming black clouds turned to a cold rain so we layered up and cruised down, officially celebrating our arrival onto the Altiplano.

While stunningly beautiful, and surrounded by the immensity of it all (this is big-sky country!), the key part of Altiplano is plano, or plain. That is, flat straight terrain that goes off into infinity. Combined with a seemingly constant headwind, looming storms in every direction, and fierce UV rays (the sun’s UV rays are more intense with increased elevation), riding isn’t the picnic it should be. Amy’s 3 tubes of Burt’s Bees lip balm may not be enough!

Of looming storms, it seems that the daily pattern is one of nice sunny mornings followed by unpredictable mixed-bag afternoons.  We learned the hard way how a nice sunny morning can quickly devolve into an explosion of nature’s fury. Being on a bicycle in the middle of a treeless expanse, limits one’s options in a storm (thank god for gortex). On the one storm day we survived, as dark clouds turned to gail-force wind which turned to driving rain, we both instinctively came to a stop beside the only structure higher than the grass as far as we could see in every direction: a guard post beside a gate entrance to some kind of facility in the distance.  Not initially sure how that would help, we wasted no time when the gate attendant gave us the “come on over and get inside” signal. The hail was doing its best to destroy our panniers as we wheeled into the tiny hut. Any port in a storm as they say. After an hour or so, and reaching the limit of our broken Spanish skills, we left our little security bubble and rode out the rest of the day in a cold rain (down jackets covered by gortex just did the job). Lesson learned: start early, end early, watch the storms roll in from a hotel window.

So Puno: elevation 3830 m, population 120,000. Its claim-to-fame is being on the shores of the infamous Lake Titicaca – the highest navigable body of water in the world. We can’t say much about it at this point since as of yesterday’s arrival we have yet to venture more than 100 m from our hostel. Resting and recuperating is the only goal at this point and enjoying the complimentary breakfasts and all-day coffee and tea (and of course coca tea...careful!). The main attraction here is venturing out onto the lake to visit the numerous islands and the unique indigenous tribes that live on them. So that’s our plan...eventually. First we’ll try to replenish our liquids and mend our blistered lips. More on Puno and the islands of Lake Titicaca soon. Hasta luego.

 

Salkantay Trek to Machu Picchu: Part 2

Part Two: Machu Picchu

It’s a rite of passage for any traveller to Peru. You must go to Machu Picchu whether you want to or not. The challenge is to do it without getting trampled and then buried under a pile of cameras.

It all starts at Aguas Calientes. 99% of Machu Picchu (the name means "old mountain" in Quechua) pilgrims arrive on the tourist train from Cuzco, the rest walk in (Inca Trail people walk straight into Machu Picchu, everyone else walks through Aguas). Once in Aguas Calientes, the choice is to take the tourist bus up to the gate, or again, hike up. Being pseudo-purists, we figured we should hike up before dawn and therefore realize some sort of advantage over the masses arriving by the bus load. Problema: the first buses in the morning arrive at pretty much exactly the same time the hikers do. So there we were, hot, sweaty, and exhausted after the 300-m climb, in line at the gate with every other showered and fresh-as-a-daisy tourist sporting their finest khaki safari-travelling outfits.

Despite the humanity, once inside, Machu Picchu lives up to the hype. It is a marvel unlike any other. Even the most anti-gong-show person (i.e., me) cannot help but be impressed with an ancient stone city balancing on a sharply defined ridgetop deep in the middle of the most rugged and impressive mountain terrain imaginable.

Unearthed in 1911 by an American explorer named Hiram Bingham, it remained unknown and camouflaged in jungle foliage throughout the entirety of the 500-year Spanish invasion and occupation of South America. In other words, the Spanish never found it. It therefore escaped the default ransacking and pillaging bestowed on other Inca sites. It is this small and somewhat random fact that makes it what it is. It is simply one of the best (if not the best) and most preserved examples of Inca civilization on the planet. Being perched on a high ridge in the insanely mountainous jungles of interior Peru give it the “WOW!! ” factor.

The more you read about it, the more you learn that no one really knows why it was built and what it was used for. The Incas didn’t have a written form of language, and given that the Spanish didn’t know about it, there is no historical documentation of the city. Theories are plentiful, with the leading recent theory appearing to be that the city was a summer palace for one of the Incas (the word Inka is Quechua for “ruler”, meaning that the ruler or emperor of the empire was the “Inca”). Others say that it was probably an important administrative, religious, and political center. Regardless of its purpose or use, no one disputes its significance. It was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983.

One of the most striking features that no one misses, is the intricate stone work. Incas were masters of stone architecture. Stone walls, buildings, and roads were built and fit together without mortar in a way that would be impressive even if done today with modern equipment and power tools. Like the statues of Easter Island, how exactly humans without modern tools and equipment were able to cut and lay individual stones weighing several tons, each fitted precisely to the next so that not even a knife blade can be inserted in between the joints, is unknown. Again theories are plentiful, but no one knows for sure.

Another big feature of Inca architecture is that nothing is random. Everything seems to be aligned with the stars, the heavens, cardinal directions, the winter solstice, the summer solstice, and every other pagan symbol of importance. Around every corner we turned there was a tour-guide explaining in infinite detail to a group of camera-ready tourists how this wall, or this stone, or this corner was somehow aligned with the universe.  They were also big sacrificers, as in human. The stone alters where such events took place, along with other religious ceremonies, are also prominently placed. Apparently a lot of blood was spilled to please the gods back in the day.

After a good look around the place, we took yet another hike up to the top of Cerro Machu Picchu  – a peak overlooking the city and the rest of the world. While we had reservations about the exhausting nature of such an activity (another 600 m climb), it was a fantastic experience. First it is only climbed by a small number of people, since most hikers opt for the opposite peak Huayna Picchu (the iconic peak in the background of every picture you have ever seen of Machu Picchu, including ours). Huayna Picchu however, has also succumbed to the permit system and requires advanced planning and reservations which we didn't have. We therefore opted for the higher and more difficult peak requiring no advanced planning of any kind J

While views along the climb are outrageously stunning and reveal the insanely vertical nature of the terrain (unbelievably rugged), the cooliest thing about the route is that it follows an original Inca road. Cerro Machu Picchu was used by the Inca as a lookout and therefore a permanent and well-built Inca road leads to the summit. It’s obvious to anyone that the Inca were serious about their endeavours and built things to last forever. Provided the Spanish don’t invade again, that trail will be there forever. Very cool.

So back to Aguas by mid-afternoon for a well-deserved cerveza, and of course, more pizza followed by happy-hour drinkie-poos. We said good-bye to the area the next day and opted for the tourist train back to Cuzco (we could have hiked out...but enough is enough). While outrageously expensive (by local standards), the train was exceptionally relaxing and enjoyable. It was fun to be brushing shoulders with the rich tourists for a couple of hours. The route back is through the “Sacred Valley of the Incas”, which made for good perspective and views.
All in all, a highly successful mission. Machu Picchu: done.

So now, back in our Cuzco base, we’re taking a few days to regroup, repack, and contemplate reality. Next mission: cycling up the altiplano to Lake Titicaca and onto Bolivia! But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. More on that soon. Adios.