Sarah Too

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We leisurely awoke on Friday morning (THANK goodness!!) and made our way downstairs to a complimentary breakfast of bread, butter, jam, scrambled eggs with ham, tea, juice, and fresh fruit. And by "we," I mean Amanda, Tami, and me. The boys couldn't be bothered with breakfast. Check out wasn't until 11, so we took our sweet time getting organized, packed, and showered. For me, I wanted to take time to enjoy my last shower for the next two days...

At check-out, we stored our bags and went shopping for a last minute souvenirs. On our way down the hill from the fair trade store, where some of us hit the souvenir payload, we passed by a festival of children (or as some would think, a market where children were for sale)...





The kids were dancing and had no clue as to the steps. They all had that blank stare of "What the hell are these adults making us do?" You had to admit that the traditional dress and their faces were captivating.

Around 2, the taxi for the Juliaca airport picked us all up from the hostal. For Ryan and me, this was the start of our goodbye to Peru. On our way to the airport, we passed another fabulous contributor to the area's impeccable air quality:



Turns out that was my last photo in Peru, but fortunately, not my last impression.

Our flight to Lima lasted all of an hour and a half. Everyone got their bags upon arrival. Ryan and I hugged Amanda, Larry, and Tami goodbye. We wouldn't see them again until they returned to the States. After Ryan and I saw off the others, we did some reconnaissance of the Lima airport. It was 6 PM on Friday and our first of 3 flights home didn't take off until 5:35 AM the next morning. We were in for a long night...Where would we like to set up camp?

There is no carpeting and there are no quiet corners in the Lima airport. It is tile, open spaces, and major thoroughfares. Ryan didn't go for my suggestion of camping out in the chapel. What?? Its a legitimate suggestion in my eyes!! Its quiet, set out of the way, and there is no fluorescent lighting...Its got a soothing ambiance - perfect for sleeping!!

After scoping out some food, which for some reason my stomach wasn't interested in more than crackers, Ryan and I sat down on the bridge leading from the second floor of the airport to the airport hotel. We weren't alone - there were two other travelers already camped out - and the area would gather a crowd as the night went on.

I tried to sleep laying on the floor with my head propped on my bag. I was partially successful. I would sleep for about 45 minutes at a time, despite the flight announcements going off over the loud speaker every 15 minutes. "Ding dong. TACA flight number two, six, five to Bogota is now boarding in departure lounge number 18." I also found moments of sleep through the sounds of pipes dropping, hand saws, and other plumbing construction going on mere feet from where we lay. Other sounds filling the airport: babies crying, crowds yammering, and people walking by. However, by midnight, I was cold and uncomfortable on the tile floor, and hungry. The myriad sounds were hammering into my head and I couldn't shut them out. So, I got up and went to Starbucks. Even in Lima, there is Stabucks. I find that a little nauseating, but man, they make a mean hot chocolate (I did say the floor made me cold). Plus, I was able to get a muffin de manzana with cinnamon. They warmed that up for me without me even having to ask!

As I ate my muffin and drank my hot chocolate, I watched all the people waiting on the bridge (I think they were waiting to pick up passengers arriving on flights). I would also stare down the people walking past that stared at Ryan and me like we were on display. Yeah, we're sleeping in the airport...What of it, foo'?

It was amazing that this airport NEVER quieted down. Flights continued to arrive past midnight, past 1 AM. And the construction on the pipes continued past 1 AM. Ryan was able to sleep through the din a little longer than me - how? I don't know...

I finished my fluff paperpack, which I started on the flight to Peru, but didn't crack open since I arrived. ["The Undomestic Goddess," by Sophie Kinsella. Ladies, I recommend this as a great beach read.] Around 3 AM, Ryan and I noticed a line of people down near the Copa Airlines counter and we figured that was our flight. We scuttled downstairs to hurry up and wait. No less than two Copa Airlines employees asked us if we needed tags for our luggage. I had three tags on my bag. Simple observation would let you know that I'm good to go, but hey, maybe that's just me...

We checked in. Then we paid our departure tax of 100 soles. It makes you slightly glad that the US folds all those fees and taxes into the final cost of your airfare. Notice I only said "slightly" glad...Then, we sat at the terminal. I shopped at duty free and bought the perfume I'd been wanting for years: L'eau d'Issey Miake. Our gate would not open until boarding time. I was slightly confused when I went through customs, then noticed that our gate was on the OTHER side of customs. This airport is weird...

I think I slept on the flight to Panama City. I also remember feeling nauseous. I'm not really sure what my body was trying to tell me. I am going home already!! Panama City airport was warm and muggy. Already I felt happy about returning to a place where I didn't have to figure out how many layers I needed to wear for the day. I felt better on the flight to Miami and for a lack of anything better to do, I watched the in-flight film, "Definitely, Maybe," for the second time. I already watched it on the Panama City flight en route to Lima almost 2 weeks before. Maybe I watched it for nostalgia's sake...or I was bored and not sleepy.

We landed in Miami and my nausea was gone. Maybe my intestines were celebrating my return to my homeland? Regardless, I was so excited to be so close to home. It was 1:45 PM. Lima is an hour behind Eastern Daylight Savings Time. We had been in transit for nearly 24 hours. Ryan and I miraculously breezed through baggage and customs. YAY! I checked into our flight to Tampa, we grabbed some food, and we headed down to our commuter terminal on the ground floor of the Miami airport.

Ryan and I had minor heart attacks when it was announced that our scheduled 4 PM flight was delayed for 2 hours, but the desk agent offered up 2 seats on the flight preceeding that one (Allelujah!! Can I get a witness??? Can I get a witness??...). We would leave almost immediately...at 4 PM. ??? I guess some thunderstorms were mucking up all the works for scheduled small aircraft flights.

I nearly ran onto our puddle jumper. In an hour, through gathering stormclouds, we arrived at my favorite airport - Tampa International. Get me in a cab and get me HOME!! Bags? Check! Cab? Check check. Crossing the bridge from Tampa to St. Pete never felt so good, or so exhausting. My shower and my bed felt closer than ever. What hour of transit were we on? 27??

The cab dropped us off at Ryan's car, which was parked in a friend's driveway. Then Ryan dropped me off at my doorstep. I unlocked my apartment door and gratefully stepped over the threshold. I was home. I just had the adventure of a lifetime and now, I could rest...until the next one.

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Thursday morning, we all awoke early once more. [Honestly, I wonder...Who goes on vacation, only to wake up early a majority of the days?? Don't most people go on vacation to relax and sleep in? I really think I need to re-examine my time-off priorities or get my head examined....] Amanda, Tami, and I faced the ice cold toilet seat of our private bath and struggled into fresh clothes before heading down to the lobby with the boys, where we waited for All Ways Travel to pick us up.

An All Ways Travel van picked us up, but we weren't the last stop on the way down to the docks. The driver picked up some remaining members of our tour group before dropping us at the docks, where we would meet our boat and tour guide. When we exited the van, for the umpteenth time during our time in Peru, we were accosted by local women trying to sell us everything from water, to chullos, to pencils and pens. We were past the point of even saying "No, gracias." We simply continued on toward the docks.

[Another note, too, about all these bloody early mornings....I'm doing all this without any COFFEE!!! Nada!! Not even cafe con leche. There's no little coffee maker in our rooms and I'm not giving up any precious minutes of sleep to go find a cafe. Plus, when I was on the mountain, I wasn't going to mix up any more of the instant crap...Now on with our tour of the islands of Lake Titicaca...(did you SAY it???)]

Our tour guide informs us, when we are underway, that our tour group is called, "Cusi," which means "spider" in the native language (not Spanish). When he calls for Cusi group, we know to follow him. (This is a slightly better version of the umbrella that most of my elementary teachers had me follow when we went on field trips.) In about 25 minutes, we land on the floating reed mat islands of Uros. Seriously, people constructed the islands not out of dredge spoil, but out of reeds. They chopped the roots of the reed plants out of the lake bed to form the base. Picture floating blocks of peet, if you will. They lash these blocks together with rope, then lay reeds down on top in a criss-cross pattern. Then, they anchor the floating mass to the lake bed. On top of the reeds, they build their homes. Up to 15 or so families could live on one reed island. It takes about a year of dedicated work to build the island. Without regular maintenance (i.e., removing rotted reeds), the island would fall apart within a year. With maintenance, though, the island can last up to 50 years!!

When you step on the reed island, your feet squish down, but it is dry. It is like stepping on a mat of extremely squishy foam. And its sturdy. You won't punch a whole through the bottom or something. And again, people live here!! But their whole existence is based on tourism now. I didn't take any photos of the people or the island structures because I felt weird. Like a voyeur. Yet, tourism has brought many good things to these people. The profits from tourism have built a school. Have afforded them access to clean water. Have allowed them to sustain their traditional way of life. It is still strange and the people go through the motions of shepherding turistas through their homes and around their islands. We paid 5 soles each for a ride in the reed boat that took us across to another of the 32 or so reed islands within the sheltered bay of Puno.



After spending some time fending off the women selling local handicrafts (e.g., mobiles made from reeds, embroidered pillowcases and wallhangings, etc.), it was time to board our tour boat and head towards Taquile.

Taquile is 3 hours, by boat, from Puno. We were up so early in the morning that most of us neglected breakfast. There comes a point, for me, where I am so hungry I am sick. Thus, I slept most of the way to Taquile and when I awoke, I felt nauseous. It's that feeling you get when you've been in a moving vehicle for too long. You want fresh air and a walk.

Well, we got fresh air and a walk. We got to walk UP a steep hill....AGAIN. Peru, I'm sorry, but I am OVER the following: (a) altitude, (b) headaches, (c) beggars, (d) ROCKS, and (e) STEEP HILLS. Eff you and your hellacious topography!!! I now know there is a reason I live at sea level...

Anywho, the walk up to lunch was beautiful. The island is rather large and there are no vehicles (no DIESEL!!), other than the tour boats. The houses are made of mud bricks and rock-lined footpaths are definitely gentler than the Inca Trail.







We even took time to stop and smell the roses:



Lunch was a delicious spread of quinwa soup and fresh pan-fried trucha with rice and papas fritas (french fries). After eating and a rest, I felt a million times better than I did on the boat. Tami, however, was fighting off a new ailment, despite beating the effects of altitude while at Machu Picchu. Tami's intestinal tract was rebelling and, how you say? Exploding? Pepto was no longer an efficient remedy and she skipped lunch to rest on a sunny rock wall...The good news? Larry moved down the pain scale to a 3 or 4 (with 10 being the worst he felt while battling altitude on the Inca Trail) and he ate lunch. If Simon were here, he wouldn't be getting seconds...Hey, baby steps, right?

After lunch, our group made our way down 533 rock steps to our waiting tour boat.



ARRRRGGH!!!! MORE steps!!! I do wonder if I cracked my head without knowing it -- why else would I PAY for this kind of activity....In the end, the way down to the docks was enjoyable, scenic, and easy. The boat ride home offered a little time to sleep, and by the time we got back to port, time to wonder if we had gotten carbon monoxide poisoning. The cabin air was stale and tinged with diesel, but outside was no better because the engine door was open in order to keep it cool. We were towing another tour boat behind us and the engine belched out exhaust, leaving fresh air in low slow supply. By the time we disembarked, we all had headaches and were tired from the 8 hour journey. Good thing we were returning to our favorite restaurant in Puno, Balcones de Puno, for a second night of music, dancing, and delicious food.

The next day we would be packing, purchasing last minute souvenirs, then riding off to the Juliaca airport to catch our afternoon flight to Lima. It would be the start of the journey home for Ryan and me....

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Amanda asked the agent at All Ways Travel which place, if she left this country having to see only one thing in or around Puno, to see, which would it be...He replied, of course, the islands of Lake TI-TI-CA-CA (I hope you said it with me, just for fun) and the Inca fertility temple of Chucuito (Chew-kwee-toe). So, on Wednesday afternoon, after a leisurely wake-up (FINALLY) and a lunch of chocolate panqueques (for me), Amanda, Larry, Ryan, and I leave Tami in Puno (so she can take it easy) and take a taxi 11 miles southwest of Puno to Chucuito.



Again, the open windows of the Toyota Corolla wagon (without shocks) let in the fantanstically scented air of Puno. Diesel really does smell delicious at any hour of the day...at altitude...when you already aren't getting enough oxygen...[As a side note, Amanda does look like one of the prettiest and most friendly of all terrorists, doesn't she?]

We arrived in the main square of Chucuito and there should have been crickets chirping and perhaps a tumbleweed rolling through. It was one sleepy little town and blessedly devoid of turistas. It was such a relief to be away from the madding crowds. And I felt like we were a little closer to seeing how the residents of this area really live.

Off the main square is a beautiful church.



Inside there are some seriously scary and gaudy statues depicting the stations of the cross. I declined photographing them. Within minutes of arriving, too, schoolchildren began following us.



The view from the church is amazing, too. It overlooks the main square and (say it with me!) Lake Titicaca:



After perusing the church and the cemetery, we all began wandering the streets. The quiet streets, with only school children following us or staring at us as we went by. Over the next half hour or so, every now and again some animals would look up to check out the turistas walking by:





The sheep could not care less, though:



After feeling as if we had seen all there was to see in sleepy Chucuito,we started wondering where this infamous Inca fertility temple resided. Fortunately, the 10-year-old that duped Amanda into buying some knitted finger puppets...



...knew EXACTLY where to find the fertility temple. In fact, she and her friend had a whole schpeal memorized. So, for 2 soles each, these two girls showed us around the small garden of stone penises that is the Chucuito fertility temple.



Cocoa leaves are offered and placed at the base of the statue and chicha (a local juice-like drink) is poured on the top of the statue. That's most of what I gleaned from the girls' Spanish monologue about the offering ceremony. Good thing the girls speak slowly and I speak....English.

But the wonders of the Inca temple do NOT stop there!! No no, there is also the stone of positive energy:



and (not pictured) the stone with 8 angles; and, the curved cornerstone (also not pictured) that protects the temple from crumbling when there is a sismo (earthquake). Again, snippets gleaned from a tour spoken in Spanish. I was duely impressed by the two little girls, though. They had memorized the tour and didn't miss a beat (not that I would really know if they had...).

Visting Chuciuto was one of my favorite parts of the entire trip. I didn't feel like we were somewhere that EVERY turista went. It was fun to feel like the locals thought WE were the curiosity, instead of us walking around looking at the locals that way. This was just a town where folks took the collectivo into Puno for supplies. Tourism wasn't necessarily their main source of economic gain. And the escape from all that was a nice reprieve....

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Puno is at 12,421 feet - about 2,000 feet higher than Cusco and about 1,300 feet lower than Dead Woman's Pass on the Inca Trail. This is the highest that we'll spend any significant amount of time. Puno has far fewer
turistas than bustling Cusco, but it is much louder. The drivers here honk at ANYTHING that moves. The diesel in the air makes me cough.

Our first order of business upon arrival is checking into the hostal, then we must find food and book our tour of Lake Titicaca. People don't really come all this way to see Puno. They come to see Lake Titicaca. Now everyone, say it with me (because you know you LOVE it): LAKE TI-TI-CA-CA!!

We all decide upon a sleepy cafe called something related to "tulip." Seriously, I need to write these things down and I did try, but I guess not hard enough. Anyway, I think the altitude suppressed all of our appetites as most of us ordered light. I had tomato soup and potato puree. Those potatoes - you could drink them they were so pureed!! Look at all of us at the lunch table:



After lunch, Amanda, Tami, Ryan, and I head over to All Ways Travel to book our tour of Lake Titicaca. There are options to stay overnight on a couple of the islands with local host families, but I can tell you that I wasn't feeling like spending a cold night out an island after 4 days on the mountain. Ryan wasn't much in the mood for a home stay, and before Larry left for more sleep at the hostal, he stated is preference for no overnights. Tami was on the fence and Amanda definitely wanted the full cultural experience. In the end, we decided for the US$15 full day tour of both Uros and Taquile islands, the day after next. We wanted a full day in Puno to relax, recuperate, and explore, before jumping on a boat.

Hotel El Buho ("The Owl") doesn't block out all the noise of this city, but we ladies have our own room with our own beds and our own PRIVATE bathroom with 24/7 HOT water. Now, access to hot water wasn't a serious problem on this trip, but after days on the trail and a somewhat inconsistent level of preferred hotness at Pirwa, this place is the bees knees in comparison. I spend about 20 minutes in the shower, which gives me enough time to chop down the forest growing on my legs. Smooth legs are a wonderful reward for making it this far....

For dinner, we head over to El Buho Pizzeria. There are pizzerias EVERYWHERE in this town. Everywhere. All wood fired. Because this place is COLD when the sun goes down and the warmth of a wood stove feels fantastic. The wood stove nicely adds to already fantastic air quality of Puno, too. Amanda, Tami, and I order a nice gooey pizza with veggies on top, and its a nice cap to the end of long day of travel.

At night, I don't even pull out the sleeping bag with all the wool blankets piled on top of our beds. Our room is much colder than the boys' room (see Amanda's sleeping attire below), but at least we girls each have our own bed. The boys refuse to share the one full-sized bed in their room. Ryan opts to sleep on the floor while Larry continues to recuperate from the trail in the bed.

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A morning sleep-in after the Inca Trail WOULD have been nice; however, we busy people have places to go and people to see. We hailed a taxi to take us to one of the many Cusco bus stations at 7 AM. Six soles and 15 minutes later, ta dah! We're there. Check us all out as we hang at the bus station:




The Tour Peru bus that took us to Puno had to be the nicest bus I have ever been on in my life. The seat nearly fully reclined and there was a pull down leg rest, in addition to a foot rest. The windows were huge and when our showing of "The Motocycle Diaries" was over, I was able to snap a few shots of the scenery passing us by as we hurtled down the somewhat mottled highway.









Passing through Juliaca, out of where we would fly at the end of our stay in Puno, was like passing through a half-assed constructed shithole. Rebar stuck out of the half-finished concrete walls of nearly every building in view. The streets were dusty and littered. Diesel hung thick in the air. Drivers fluidly drive in both lanes and honked their horns at pedestrians. Good thing Puno, which is only slightly cleaner and less degraded, offers you a welcoming view like this:

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Tami and I decended down from Machu Picchu around 12:30 PM and arrived at the SAS Travel Hostal Viajeros around 1. We took a moment to drop our packs and drink some water. I took another moment to change into flip flops and clean out my rented pack. All my belongings went into a huge rice bag. I was happy to see that pack go, as it meant I was that much closer to seeing my travel backpack in Cusco. Tami and I rested at the hostal after stopping at an ATM and waited for the rest of group to roll in. The rest of them had decided to climb Winaypicchu, the peak that overlooks Machu Picchu city. The trail up the peak is extremely steep with continuous cliff edges and is not for the faint of heart (or weak of knees). I'm glad I skipped out of that ascent, as I laid on the chairs at the lunch table...

There is not much I can say about Aguas Calientes, as I wasn't there long enough to have more than a first impression of the place. It definitely caters to tourists and it has all of the same wares for sale as Cusco. Again, every shop sells the same things and there is a shop everywhere you turn. The highlight of our time in AC was our dip in the hot (warm) springs at the top of yet another hill. Tami and I slowly made our way up the hill to the hot springs. 10 soles (approx. US$3) gets you admitted. Tami and I soaked our broken bodies for over an hour. The pool could have been hotter, but hey, it was still pretty warm and just what the doctor ordered....Plus, we met a retired couple from North Carolina that had been sailing around the world for the past 6 and half years. They made me feel like a weak loser when they said they finished the Inca Trail the day before and they climbed Winaypicchu.

When we left the springs, it was time to head to the train back to Cusco, along with the second SAS Travel group. What would have been a restful, sleepy ride through the dark back to Cusco, was actually a loud, raucous ABBA sing-a-long - courtesy of the rude and drunk second SAS Travel group. Maybe I am just getting old and lame. What's wrong with a few beers after hiking for 4 days? What's wrong with blaring your iPod speakers while other ill, tired, and sore travelers are trying to sleep? And seriously, who has a problem with ABBA?? I'm raising my hand over here because there IS a time and a place for ABBA. The 6 PM train back to Cusco after 4 days on a steep rocky trail is NEITHER. Now, a 70s-themed birthday party at a roller rink....YES.

The bus ride from the train station at Ollytaytambo was blissfully less noisy, as we wet blankets took over the back of the bus and the rowdy bunch sat up near the guides. Sleeping was the name of that game. Wearily, Larry, Tami, and I disembarked and hoofed our way back to Pirwa, where Ryan and Amanda greeted us. I missed them on the trail!! We animatedly debriefed each other on our travels to and from Machu Picchu while Larry slept - maybe for the first time since leaving the coast and arriving in the mountains. In the morning, we were all headed off to Puno, the gateway to Lake Titicaca...

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I don't know that words or photos can really capture the wonder that this place induces. We arrived at Machu Picchu at 7:45 AM and I'm so tired and sore (such a broken record I am) that there is not quite the impact I expect upon arrival at this place.





The sight of more (MORE???) stairs leading to the official entry point makes me grumpy, but as Tami put it, "I waited my whole life to see this place, there is no way I am not going to see it now." Unfortunately, Larry did not share her sentiments...He had enough of the trail and the stairs and his body - he went down to the hostal in Aguas Calientes with Washington and skipped the two hour tour of the city with Hilbert.

I am in a haze as we tour Machu Picchu with Hilbert. Somebody get me some cheese with my whine, because my knee hurts. I am amazed by the stonework. Pre-industrial revolution humans built this place out of the side of a mountain. Were they smoking the cocoa leaves?? Who DOES that?? Who sees the mountain peaks and says, "Let us build a sprawling sacred city HERE!" Yes, Machu Picchu gives views of all the other sacred glaciers ("apus"), but does that mean you haul rocks, by hand, up and down steep mountain slopes?? CRA-ZY!!

From here, I'll let the camera do the talking:
















------------------
TRIP STATS (thusfar)
Number of soles paid to go to the bathroom at Machu Picchu: 1
Where I was on the 10-point happiness scale when I peed in a toilet with a seat: 11+
Number of tears shed on the trail: ZERO (eat THAT, mountain!)
Number of rocky stairs climbed: Ugh, too many!

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Orientation the night before hitting the trail did not do much to prepare me for this trek through the rugged Andes. Yeah, yeah, we got it...altitude sickness...take it easy...Blah blah blah. Let's get hiking. Of course, it would have helped a whole lot if the morning of the trek did NOT start with me sleeping through my wristwatch alarm. I spent from 2 AM to 4 AM fighting off a severe headache while resting my head on a pillow that felt no softer than a rock. So, when at 5:25 AM I woke with a start and whisper-screamed "Shit!! It's 5:25. We gotta go guys!" I felt stressed AND nervous. I shoved my sleeping bag into its compression sack, hastily dressed, and bungied my sleeping mat and bag to my pack as quickly (and as irritably as I could). I wasn't the only one who slept poorly, either. Tami spent the night going to the bathroom. Regardless, Larry, Tami, and I blearily hustled the 2 blocks down to the 5:45 AM bus, where, once boarded, Tami downed an early morning cocktail of Pepto and Dramamine. I really wish I could say our troubles ended there...

Day 1 - Our group of 16 travellers plus 2 guides ride the bus from Cusco to a breakfast stop in Ollytaytambo. While I want to sleep on the bus ride, I can't. The scenery of the mountains in the early morning light is too breathtaking. The sky is so blue and the mountains are indescribable. It won't be the first time I think, "My camera and my words will never capture this view." Plus, I'm nervous about what to expect from the trail, myself, and my guides.

In Ollytaytambo, we turistas can buy wooden walking sticks, overpriced snacks, and Agua de Florida for the trail. Allegedly, Agua de Florida is "magic water" containing eucalyptus and some other methol-like herbage that when inhaled, opens up your lungs, easing breathing in the thin mountain air. Really, the stuff smells like Grandpa's aftershave and, like the cocoa leaves, I can't vouch for the validity of the guides' claims. After breakfast, we continue onto KM82 (2380 meters above sea level), where we check in to the trail and start hiking.



Our hiking is stalled by the Australians efforts to iron out a small, yet annoying, paperwork snafu with the trail authorities. Every hiker, porter, and guide MUST be permitted on the Inca Trail to limit the number of trekkers each year. Once they get through, though, we are on our way...up, and up, and UP. The rocky trail and the stairs start now. I will curse them both by the end of it. Larry and Tami would begin to feel the burn of altitude sickness, as well.


By the end of Day 1, we are sweaty, huffing, puffing, tired, and positive that we will hire porters to carry our packs on Day 2, which is listed as "Challenge" in the SAS Travel brochure. Fortunately, the amazing porters provided by SAS Travel carry the food, our sleeping tents, the dining and kitchen tents, and all other necessary supplies on their backs. They make light work of the rocky, steep terrain and always have camp set up before we weary Gringos arrive for lunch or the night. I feel like a schlep in comparison to these wiry men that traverse these mountains with such seeming ease and quickness. Most of them, when not working the trail, are farmers in these mountains. Many porters die by falling off the edge of the rocky trail each year. When the porters are introduced, many have between 2 and 4 children. The youngest among them is 20, and the oldest is 60! We learn the marital status of each one, as that seems to be an important statistic in this country - I've had to fill out my status on every hostel registration card so far. Single and PROUD, Peru!

Day 2 - Uh, change the SAS Travel word "Challenge" to "Effing Bitch of a Time." This was by far, the hardest day, even without our packs. Larry, Tami, and I each paid 80 soles (approx. US$20-30) for a porter to carry our packs for the day. I am awed and annoyed by the veteran trekkers in our group that suck it up and carry their own packs, while still maintaining the lead. Larry, Tami, and I continue our trend of coming in last at every rest stop.

Never flat, the day was either steeply headed up or steeply headed down as we made our way through two passes. The first was Dead Woman's Pass, at a maximum height of 4200 meters. As we rested at the top of the pass, I huffed and puffed (again). Larry and Tami fought off nausea, headaches, and stinging lungs. Yes, Altitude, we feel you, we know you, now leave us alone!!! I barely took photos at the time, and I think these are photos of the top:

If you look closely at the photo above, you can see the trail sloping away in the bottom third of the photo, and heading down the mountain towards the valley half-way down the left side of the photo. The trail is one small tiny sliver, snaking its way through the Andes and none of my photos capture the steepness of it...

This photo is the other side of Dead Woman's Pass - in the direction we continued to trek - toward Machu Picchu. We would be heading straight down - basically dropping out of the bottom of the photo frame...

If I thought going up sucked, going down a mountain just might blow even bigger llama chunks. Stairs, stairs, and more effing stairs. When I think about them, I get mad. I spent so much time looking down and holding my balance that I missed so much of the beautiful scenery. My toes are throttled into the front of my shoes with each step, which I noticed at the end of Day 1 were separating from the rubber soles (check out the right shoe near the toe):



By the time I reached the lunch stop, I was at the end of my rope and ready to cry. I was exhausted and barely hungry. I ate what I could, but I felt spent and wondered how I would make it up through another pass. I was one grumpy trekker, but I was still upright. Kathy (a fellow St. Pete resident that happened to be in our group!), Larry, and Tami were all laid out on a tarp and they all skipped lunch. Altitude, seriously, leave us alone!! One person that kept the humor in the situation was Simon, the gregarious Australian. He was so excited that Larry was skipping out on lunch because that meant more chocolate pudding for him for dessert!!

I have to say Simon and every one of the other trekkers in our group made this arduous task enjoyable and bearable. Never once did I feel like we stragglers were holding up the group. Everyone's buoyant and adventurous spirit kept us all laughing and plugging along, every small step of the way up and down the trail. Check out some of our fellow travelers tales here and here.

After lunch, we headed down for a bit, then....right. back. UP. Uuuuuuggggghhh!!! Are you KIDDING me?!?!? This SUCKS!! And I PAID for this!!! HA!!! By the time we made it through Runkuraqay Pass (approx. 3900 meters), and down, down, down to camp, we were spent. We skipped the tour of the Runkuraqay Inca remains. Hilbert (our lead guide) could tell us another day. Tami crashed in our tent as soon as she arrived at camp and never woke up. She fell asleep with her tea in her hand and barely moved when I later hit the sack. Larry skipped another meal, leaving Simon to inhale the extras while having yet ANOTHER conversation about cricket with the Brits. And, as a reward for all our hard work that day, the squat toilets at this camp were miraculously free of any excrement outside the porcelain bowl in the ground. Unfortunately, they were not free of the disgusting stench. Plus, you wondered whether that was really mud on the floors....

Day 3 - We all groaned awake at 5:15 AM, but finally noticed the incredible view from camp.



Well, the hike is easier than Day 2, but not by much. Fortunately, the views are amazing:





I have my pack back and the 2 hours of stairs leading down to the night's camp made me tear up as my right knee could no longer support my weight on its own. I was depending on my left leg to lower me down each step of the way. I gasped each time my right knee tweaked or my blisters (that's right, my huge effing blisters on both heels) rubbed the wrong way in my shitty ass shoes. Agony made me hate my shoes, my feet, my body, the mountain, and the stupid idiots that built this damn trail. I thought of Tami and Larry, too, that suffered even greater bodily strains, as the altitude sucked the life out of them. Tami, too, had her right knee Ace bandaged the day before and was experiencing the pain of each step. Both of us wanted to cry, but too many people were around. (We aren't SISSIES!!)

We reached Winaywayna (2700 meters) for lunch and I was so flippin' grumpy. Before lunch, we would head over the Inca remains, just a short walk from the base camp lodge. This was our last camp before seeing Machu Picchu the following day. The walk to the remains made my body scream and then, the drizzle started as we toured the remains with our second guide, Washington.





Some folks went further down the stairs than I did, but I kept thinking about the climb back up the stairs. As expected, the walk back to camp from the remains was uncomfortable. I was looking forward to lunch, flip flops, and to the hot showers offered at the lodge for 5 soles. 8 minutes of warmth and cleanliness!! Larry, after a brief reprieve from the symptoms of altitude, again felt nauseous. Simon was slightly deflated come extra servings of dessert, which happened to be his least favorite dish: Jell-O. HA!! I LOVE Jell-O and there is ALWAYS room for it.... After showers, Tami and I relaxed in our tents as the afternoon drizzle continued. People napped and read. What a wonderful break from the demanding trail!! What a wonderful rest before our 3:45 AM wake up call the next day...

Day 4 - RISE and SHINE, trekkers!! My first words: "F**K Machu Picchu." (Sorry, Mom) Seriously, my blisters didn't want to squeeze into my shoes. My body didn't want to eek out of my warm cocoon and my eyes didn't want to peer through the dark pre-dawn air. After a quick breakfast, an huge mass of hikers went to hurry up and wait on the trail. We had another checkpoint to go through, before hiking to the Sun Gate, where we would get our first glimpse of one of the 7 Wonders of the World. One by one, the headlamps clicked off in the darkness as the different tour groups waited to start down the trail. I don't know what time we passed through the checkpoint, but I had my headlamp on, even while the morning broke over the mountain peaks. The trail was much more even, and much less severe than the previous two days, but there were still some really doozy points: the Gringo Killer (steep steps that seemed like climbing a ladder) and the steps leading down to Machu Picchu. It was not helpful that some especially rude and fast hikers nearly plowed us slowpokes off the trail, without saying excuse me - in any language. Again, it was so hard to see the beauty of the trail when I was focused on each step and my body was tired, tight, and sore. Regardless of how my body felt, I hiked all this way (49 KM; approx. 25 miles) and I was going to see all of Machu Picchu....

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