A Harrowing Climb and a Sneak Peak at Machu Picchu

I left Cuzco for Machu Picchu with regret over the fact that I would once again be cameraless in the midst of incredible scenery. The scenery itself offered some consulation, and the sense of wonder that the mountains and ruins instilled in me took my mind off the shutter withdrawal.
Ben, Max and I had had a five AM wake-up in Cuzco so that we would have time to catch a cab for the train. The scenery along the train-ride ran the gamut, from pleasing pastures filled with tranquil sheep and llamas up to the unbelievable peaks looming over the land. A rough and tumble river of wild foam crashed down through a field of boulders. The tracks descended with the river, until the highlands gave way to a semi jungle which had dinner-plate sized flowers, big leafy trees with other plants growing out of their branches.
Through the glass-ceiling of our cabin, we could view the mountains with their sharp spines of rock, the glaciers and the clouds. Most of the peaks we were looking at were taller than anything in the 48 states. They were brutal and uncompromising gods, doubtless they had killed their fair share of adventurers over the years. One snowcapped wonder, Veronica, looks like the Matterhorn, only much higher and far more badass.

Aguas Calientes is the small town, roughly two-thousand feet below Machu Picchu that waits at the end of the tracks for the incoming tourists--the final waypoint along our journey. A woman from the hostel stood outside with a sign for Ben who had booked it and led our group up to the night's lodging. We dropped our bags there and then marched back down into town so that we could buy tickets for Machu Picchu. I ended up paying 60 instead of 120 soles because I had had the foresight to bring my expired student ID card along. Getting money was a bit complicated for some of our group because the ATM machine in town only took Visa cards. It was curious that a town whose livelihood revolved around taking money from the gringos wouldn't have things set up to keep their wallets packed.

It was only noon at this point, still plenty of time for an adventure. Max was feeling off, perhaps from some kind of food poisoning; Ben and I were down for some exploring. We decoded to go on a hike/run up a local peak that offered a view of Machu Picchu. We got a hardcore start to our adventure by running along the tracks through town, dodging through fruitstands and past porters unloading luggage from trains. In a few hundred meters, we came to the trailhead where the going turned to more difficult rocks and roots. We kept running at a cautious pace and then passed some French tourists. One of them shouted something to us. They wanted to know if we knew anything about a landslide further up, one that had supposedly made the trail impassible. This had been an extremely rainy year in the area, so rainy in fact that landslides over the roads and train tracks had stranded tourists in Aguas Calientes. Machu Picchu was closed until the end of February. We hadn't known about the damage to the trail, but having come this far, we were at least going to check it out and decide for ourselves if we would go further or not.
We rounded a corner and found that there were indeed rocks and dirt piled across the trail, but it was no great difficulty to climb over and across it. Then I realized that we weren't supposed to cross anything here, we were supposed to go up. Oh.

Above our heads, someone had conveniently placed a series of wooden ladders to climb up the steep, eroded pitch. Inconveniently, those ladders had been partly ripped from the soil and many of the rungs were broken. There was a single steel cable going up for perhaps a hundred feet, the only thing in the arrangement that looked like it could be reliable.

We looked at it for a while, while reservations went through my head. Cost-benefit analysis: going up something high, scary and maybe not so safe vs. going back, feeling like a wimp. Ben said he was going to do it. Finally, thinking that it might be good preparation for whatever future uncomfortable moments I would have in the Andes, I decided that I would come too.
The climb was one of the most nerve-racking experiences of my life. We relied heavily on the cable to ascend and used what footholds we could find on the ladders and rocks. Ben lead and helped point out the footholds that were secure, guiding through the chaos. Of course a slip up, a betrayed foothold or a misplaced trust in a rung could have meant a bloody, likely fatal tumble down the rocks and into the jungle below. The whole affair took us about twenty minutes before we were able to stand on secure ground again. When we we were halfway up, the French people we'd gone by reached the bottom of the cable and shouted up. They looked like miniature figurines below us.
"Is that hard?"
I waited a second to think of an appropriate, reply and then shouted back. "It's not easy."
After that obstacle, there were no great perils along the trail, but the ascent was steep. Running was out of the picture, not the least because I had no intention of going down what we had just come up with a sprained ankle.

Amazingly, we saw some stoned out looking guy with dreads go by us on the trail grinning broadly and laughing strangely as we went past. I don't know how the hell he got down.
As we went up and some of the trees fell away we got some sunning views of the mountains which looked like they belonged in a Chinese watercolor. Stark rock faces, narrow lines of vegetation clinging to ciff-faces. Most of the taller summits were obscured by the blanket of white cloud floating overhead. Also. there were crepuscular rays--Ben's fancy term for the visible beams of sunlight that got past the cloud cover and shone over the mountains. Crepuscular rays.

"Fuck yeah!"

That seemed like an appropriate exclamation for reaching the top of the mountain and, holy shit, right across the valley from us, there was the city of Machu Picchu. Somehow, it was even more awesome than I had imagined. Because of our efforts and the dangers we had braved, we got a unique view of the site in side-profile. The whole thing was perched atop a high and narrow ridge, clinging to the mountain slope, a knife's edge above the great gulfs of jungle on either side. The city was flanked by two mountains, Huayna Machu Picchu (the pinnacle you see in the background of most photographs) and the taller Montaña Machu Picchu looming behind it.

If the Spanish Conquistadores had ever found this place, they would have had their work cut out for them. The climb up to the main walls would have been challenge enough and would have left them vulnerable to ambush.

Modern conquerors have it a bit easier. Tour busses, like lines of ants, went along the zig-zag access road below, ferrying their tourist cargo up and down from the site.

Where Ben and I stood however, there were no others, and we had the mountaintop for ourselves. I guess that the busted ladders had kept the crowds down.

As much as I enjoyed the view, the knowledge that I would have to descend the way I had came up weighed on me a bit. "Don't look down" wouldn't even apply here; actually looking down was going to be kind of a requirement if we were going to put our feet in the right places. We left the summit with some foreboding about this inevitable appointment. To keep things light, I sang a couple of lines from "The End" by the Beatles.

"Shit!"

Not the encouraging words I had hoped to hear from Ben. I looked over the precipice and agreed heartily. This was going to be a lot harder than going up. Amazingly, it looked as though there might be some other people stupid enough to make the climb. At least one guy (or gal--hard to tell from up here) was starting up the cable. The rest of the gang wasn't having any of it though, and the brave solitary figure made it's retreat.

Now or never. As in going up, I allowed Ben, who was better at this sort of thing, to go first. I watched him for a while and then began the slow, dangerous descent. As I said, the way required that we look down at our feet. As Ben went, he gave me complicated instructions.

"Grab on to that bar and put your foot down on the rock. The next section is missing two rungs."

As uneasy as the whole thing made me, I could at least count on the security of the cable. As long as it stayed anchored and I kept my grip on it, I would not fall. After the half hour descent, my hands felt cramped and were marked with rust and small cuts. I was glad that my tetanus shots were current. Back on solid ground, I could feel good that I had done it and scored the view of the day.

Ben and I capped our expedition with about 30 minutes of running--down the tracks and then up the service road to Machu Picchu. We got back to the hostel and with its warm showers and then went with Max to get dinner at one of the local rip-off restaurants.