Salkantay Trek to Machu Picchu: Part 1

OK, a lot of ground to cover here. I’m going to split the past week up into two parts: the Salkantay and then Machu Picchu.

Part One: Salkantay Trek

There are no roads to Machu Picchu. That leaves 3 ways to get there (in the remote case you don’t know what Machu Picchu is, perhaps read part two first): (1) take the tourist train, (2) walk the 4-day Inca Trail, or (3) walk in via another trail. We wanted to walk in. The classic “Inca Trail” however, as touched on previously, has evolved into a gringo Mecca that must be booked months/years in advance, and must be done under the auspices of an expensive guiding outfit (i.e., no independent travel). With no reservations or desire for a guided package tour, that left us with option 3: walk in via another trail.

Interestingly, and relatively unknown, is that the classic “Inca Trail” is only one trail that leads to Machu Picchu. Admittedly, it’s probably the most direct and most aesthetic in terms of following a route the Inca used. But, others exist, including a route travelling through the Salkantay Pass southwest of Machu Picchu. The bonus of such “other routes” is that they are unregulated and do not require any permits, reservations, or guiding companies. And so it was, a natural choice for us to do the Salkantay.

Our original plan was to be fully self-sufficient and haul all our camping gear and food for the 5-day hike. But we were presented with an offer we couldn’t refuse. For a reasonable fee, we were offered rustic accommodation and food at each overnight location along the way. All organized by one extended family based out of Mollepata, the start of the route. That meant we could forgo the burden and logistics of carrying camping gear and food for 5 days, and included the added bonus of living and eating with local families. The result was a guesthouse to guesthouse trek very much like trekking in Nepal.

The route started out BIG, as in big mountain scenery. The Andes up close and personal. First night was a place called Soraypampa – pampa  is a Quechua (an indigenous language of the Andes, and was the language of the Incas) word meaning grassy plain. We slept in a “cabin” in the huge meadow (or should I say pampa) at the base of a monstrous 5910-m peak – Nevado Tucarhuay (nevado = snow-capped mountain). Flor, our Peruvian host, kept the tea and crackers flowing, which was good because at 3900 m, it was a chilly star-filled night. Amy slept like a log in the down sleeping bag she brought. I slept like a log underneath 6 or so woollen horse blankets, each weighing more than sack of bricks.

The next day was the crux and the highlight of the route: Salkantay Pass. Topping out at just over 4600 m, we won the weather lottery again, and had spectacular views of the 6264-m Nevado Salkantay. Although, the word “view” doesn’t do justice. The glaciated southwest face of Salkantay towers over you and is in your face all day. It's as if you could stick your tongue out and lick it. Rated as one of the top-25 hikes in the world by National Geographic Adventure magazine, it did not disappoint. We both agreed it was one of the best days of hiking either of us had ever experienced.

From Salkantay Pass it was down down down (and accompanied by 3 puppies that were also enjoying the route with us). Being at a tropical latitude (the equator skims northern Peru), going down means fast and furious changes in vegetation and ecology. Basically going from alpine rock and ice to tropical jungle in a day.  It also means going from down jackets to shorts and tank tops. The next overnight was the funky village of Chuallay, perched on a bench surrounded by the vertical walls of the Andes. Entertained by our hosts’ snotty-nosed toddlers, we enjoyed having a comfy bed and fresh trout for dinner.

The next couple days were an interesting (sometimes more than others) mix of hiking and collectivos (the local public transport system consisting primarily of Toyota Corolla station wagons getting absolutely hammered on roads that can be perfectly described as similar to bad logging roads). Collectivos are an ingenious system whereby the driver simply waits until the vehicle is full, or he figures there are enough passengers to make the trip worthwhile, then fires it up and away you go – usually for next to nothing in terms of fares.  

After a nice hike and descent along the Rio Santa Teresa and followed by a short collectivo ride, we ended up at the town of Santa Teresa, just west of Machu Picchu. The town itself is unremarkable, but is home to what could be the best public hot springs we have ever been to. After a few showerless days, the hot springs were a real treat, if for nothing else than to sooth the dozens of bug bites we had accumulated on our bodies at these jungle elevations.

Continuing the charge, the final approach day started with another short collectivo ride followed by a surprisingly beautiful hike along the train tracks to the town of Aguas Calientes – the final destination and launch pad for a visit to Machu Picchu. Aguas Calientes – population 1000, elevation 2040 m – is a bizarre place sitting at the base of the mountain upon which Machu Picchu is perched. As mentioned, it is only accessible by train, or on foot. It’s only reason for existence is to play host to the zillions of tourists making the pilgrimage to Machu Picchu. The best comparison would be Banff, with a developing-world theme. Pizza and 4-for-1 pisco sours rule the streets.

And so ended our pilgrimage. We had arrived, relatively unscathed, at the launch pad with nothing left to do but eat pizza, enjoy the happy hour deals, and get ready for our 4-am wake-up call to hike up the steps to Machu Picchu.