Machu Picchu

So we arrived in La Paz on the Thursday afternoon and a group of us booked to cycle the 63 kms of the Worlds Most Dangerous Road the following morning. We met with our guides, from Gravity Assisted, at 7am the following morning, hopped on a bus and were off.

After a couple of hours driving we stopped at an altutude of approx 4000 metres, where simply getting on the bike was a huge task. We were kitted out with bikes (obviously), crash helmets, gloves and tunics. We then gave thanks and toasted Pachamama (the "Goddess" of Mother Earth), who we hoped would smile down on us and stop us from getting mashed. The toast is made with 96 percent alcohol made from sugar cane. I took a swig, poured a little on the Earth (as is the custom) and fell off my bike. We were not even out of the car park. Well, I had never ridden on of those new fangled mountain bike thingys. What ever happened to Sturmey Archer 3 speeds??? It had suspension and everything.

Machu Picchu

The great thing about the Bike ride is that it is mostly downhill, because when it is not it is absolutely torturous. The first part of the journey is now on tarmac roads. We were spaced out and travelling at 30-40mph with cars hurtling past, honking their horns OBVIOUSLY, at anything up to 60mph on the incredibly dangerous twisting road. You then have to endure a 5km climb on gravel road. My lungs were bursting, fighting to inhale the almost non-existent oxygen at that level.

At one point our guide, Matt, assured us that if we were to take maximum speed through the next series of downhill corners that our speed would carry us past the petrol station at the bottom of the hill and half way up the 2km incline on the other side. I peddled like crazy, forced my way to the front of our group and watched triumphantly as my momentum carried me...... 3 feet past the petrol station. It was a tough 1.999km uphill from there.

After 30 kms we left the paved surface and joined the original road. This basically was a gravel track, about 10 feet wide at best, with 2 narrow worn tracks to cycle in, and loose gravel either side and in the middle, a sheer cliff wall on one side and a drop of anything up to 400 metres on the other. Matt informed us that the rescue teams carried 150 metres of rope so anyone falling deeper than that was left in the canyon. NICE!!!! Oh yeah and just to add a little spice to the occasion it RAINED, just enough to make the surface rocks like glass.

We set off, testosterone pumping through our bodies, daring each other to go faster. At one point I was on Chads' rear wheel, pushing him to speed into a tight corner. As he turned in his front wheel caught a rock and he fell, at speed, 20 feet in front of me. As he skidded closer to the edge I had to try and avoid him. I could not get around him on the wall side so had to try and squeeze between him and the drop. My bike started to skid, the back wheel edging towards the precipice and threatening to catapult me over the side. I took a risk and banked the bike over as far as I dare. The rear wheel dug in and carried me safely around the corner (clearly, as I am not writing this from the bottom of a ravine with 150 metres of rope dangling 250 metres above me). Chad was unhurt bar a few scratches and dented pride, due to the incessant piss taking by the rest of the group. A couple of others were not quite so lucky. One girl took a tumble on one of the corners and took all the skin off her leg and arm, and another guy decided to try the descent on his face with non too pretty results.

I managed 2 other hairy moments, and both happened on the fastest part of the ride and on the final downhill. Matt had warned us that 80% of accidents happened on this stretch due to the testosterone thing. By this point I had gained huge amounts of confidence in my bike. It seemed to know exactly what it was doing even if I did not. I was pushing hard down hill and fast approaching another group who were cycling down "Driving Miss Daisy" style. I called to warn them and the guy at the rear moved over to motion me through. However, the only passing point he left me was straight through the middle of him and his mates, and into the most dangerous part of the loose gravel. As I passed the front guy my back tyre hit a rock causing my whole bike to jump violently sideways. My rear wheel leapt about a foot in the air and struck the guys front tyre, hard. Fortunately this corrected my position on the road, but a glance over my shoulder revealed a pile up of epic proportions behind me. Best, press on I thought.

As we neared the end of the stage I was follwing a guy from another group, at full tilt, as we approached a good size jump in the road. I pushed hard determined to get "good air" ( I know, hark at bloody Evel Kneivel). Unfortunately the guy in front had other ideas and as I hit the ramp and did my best Eddie the Eagle impersonation, he braked hard to talk to his mate. I hit the ground, brakes, and me, screeching, and managed to almost miss him. I say almost because the clip I gave him as I flew past meant that him and his mate quickly became very much more closely aquainted. Amazingly he picked himself up, and apologised TO ME.

At the end of the ride we were presented with our t-shirts, ate a great dinner, drank copious amounts of alcohol and drove back in the bus, along our recently cycled route. Our guide pointed out various vehicles laid in pieces at the bottom of the valley. When he started pointing out the remains of bikes and riders it really brought home just how dangerous the road actually is.

All in all it was a fantastic day. The scenery was breathtaking, with waterfalls and stunning canyons and valleys littering the route. The bikes were sensational and really whetted my appetite for more of the same, so watch out Sheep Wash, the Worlds Most Sheepy Place.

We had muted celebrations in La Paz that night, as 90% of it was shut (Quelle Surprise!!!). We were staying in a converted apartment block and I was sharing a room with Tony, Merrick and Chad. I say a room but we had a lounge, 3 bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom and laundry room. All done out in 70's kitsch.

On the Saturday night a Fancy Dress Party had been organised to celebrate Merrick and Lynns Birthday. The other 3 guys from our room went out and bought football strips, and most of the other costumes had a Halloween theme (I think this was November 1st). I decided to be rather more inventive, and miserly. We arrived at the front door of Karen and Wills' apartment, the boys in their football strips and me resplendent in MY BOXER SHORTS.

I entered the main Party area to gasps of astonishment (and a few admiring/jealous glances, of course).

"What on Earth are you?"

"I am a Premature Ejaculation"

"Huh?"

"I have just come in my undies"

That joke just does not get funnier no matter how I try to write it!!!!!!

We stayed in La Paz, a pretty cool City, until the Tuesday and then headed back to Peru and the main reason I booked the trip....The Inca Trail.

We stayed at the Saphi Hotel in Cusco, a simply fantastic City, and our base for the trek.

We were picked up at 6am on Saturday 10 November and driven for 3 1/2 hours to the head of the Inca Trail. The first days walk is a reasonably gentle stroll through the mountains with no great dramas as far as steep climbs are concerned. There are also some very impressive ruins to enjoy en route. We did have a slight problem with our porters who did not appear until an hour after we set off. All the stories we had heard were of porters charging past you all day on the mountains and having everything set up for you when you reached camp. Unfortunately nobody had bothered to tell out porters this and Chad and I would invariably arrive over an hour ahead of them at every stop.

The second day is a real toughie. You start to climb as soon as you leave camp at 1500 metres (about 5000 feet) and, nearly 5 hours later you reach the highest point on the trail, at 4215 metres (about13500 feet). The climb itself is tough but the altitude, and all that "wind" means it really is an achievement. To sit at the summit and watch the steady stream of hikers, guides and porters filing up the mountainside is a great sight. Then just when you think the worst is over it is downhill for 6km and over 3000 steps, some a metre high. I don't know those Incas were not much on symmetry.

The camp on the second day is in a beautiful site, nestled half way down a valley overlooking a deep canyon and spectacular mountain range. There was also a toilet block with a shower and, as I a little sweaty, I decided it would be a good idea. The jet of freezing cold water that hit me full in the face gave me instant "brain-freeze" (bet you did not think I could get that?), immediately followed by the rest of my body going into a kind of paralysis. I could not even move to turn the bloody tap off, or avoid the torrent.I couldn't even scream, I was only aware of a distant whimper coming from within. It was not a pleasant experience . The block also had a trough for washing clothes which was great because, as you know by now, I have a tendency to perspire. I was busy washing out my t-shirts and shorts when Chad came around the corner. He stopped and stared, a weird look on his face!!! I was trying to make sense of the look when the reason became apparent. A porter came rushing around the corner, pushed past the stunned Chad and proceeded to relieve himself in my wash trough. Then another did likewise. So it was not a wash trough after all!!!!! Bollocks!!!!! Needless to say nobody wanted to trek with me after that, I did get a tad pungent the warmer I got.

The third day is a little easier with a steep climb to begin but then reasonably easy undulations to contend with. The hike is broken up with some great photo opportunities, lovely views and still more Inca ruins.

The excitement and anticipation, at camp on the 3rd night was palpable. Or at least I think it was but, for the third night running, our camp site was stuck out on a limb and we were a 15 minute walk from the bar and all the other groups. Our guides and porters asked if we would like to eat in the "canteen" with all the other groups. "Great idea" said Chad and I, "No lets stay out here on our own" said everybody else. Chad and I wolfed down dinner and went to the bar.

Next morning we were up at 3.53am (I say up because we had been awake since midnight when our porters and guides returned from the bar, crashed out and began snoring in unison). The first thing I did was put sun screen on. It was pitch black! The gate to the trail opens at 5.30am, we started queueing at 4.45am. There were probably 80 people in front of our group

We were only 7kms from the Sun Gate and our first sighting of Machu Picchu. At 5.20am the gatekeeper arrived and at 5.30am prompt groups started filing through and onto the final leg of the Trail. Subconciously I think Chad and I had already decided to make a charge for the Sun Gate and we quickly left the rest of our group behind and started overtaking many of the people in front of us. We probably jogged half the last leg despite the altitude and the vicious climb up to the Gate. When we arrived there were only 5 people there before us. The sun was just rising over the mountains and hitting Machu Picchu. It would have been one of the great moments of my life if the view before me had not been a sea of white cloud. Machu Picchu was invisible, shrouded in the thick morning mist.

Undeterred we hurried on determined to be the first into the City, totally unaware that things have now changed and bus loads of tourists from Agua Calientes, 1000's of feet below, can enter the site (there used to be a situation whereby people coming along the Inca Trail and through the Sun Gate had exclusive use of the site until about 9.30am).

It was no biggie. As we descended the 2kms or so from the Sun Gate the clouds began to retreat and Machu Picchu was revealed in all its incredible splendour. Now I guess I must have seen a thousand photographs of the City over the years, the classic one having Wayna Picchu mountain in the background. The view before me was that exact image I had seen a thousand times, and still it took my breath away. It is truly spellbinding. I could not move for several minutes and stood rooted while I soaked up the magnificence before me (is this just a tad over the top???, well sod it it is true!).

We quickly got over the disappointment of not being first on site and resolved to be the first ones to climb Wayna Picchu, and this we did. We were already exhausted after the charge to get there but adrenalin carried us up the mountain. It was a tortuous climb but the view and the tranquillity at the top ensured it was well worth every painful step. We sat in complete silence for over a hour and luxuriated in the incredible vista before us. Huge, tree-lined mountains, massive vertical drops to rivers, and the Machu Picchu railway thousands of feet below and, of course, the most famous Inca City of all nestling in the valley between the peak on which we were perched and the mountain of the Sun Gate opposite. I wish I could tell you all, in rather more eloquent fashion than I am capable of, just how wonderful it was. I guess you will have to go and look for yourselves!

After an hour or so our tranquillity was dashed by the arrival of other tourists and our viewing platform quickly became a hive of activity. We headed back down the mountain, thought about visiting a cave (a 5 hour round trip) and settled on visiting a the Inca Hanging Bridge, a 45 minute hike uphill from the City. It was there I saw one of the most ridiculous things. As we arrived, at the viewing platform, for what is an incredible feat of engineering, a young Japanese guy came up behind us and asked if I could take his photo. We were standing on a slab of rock with a sheer drop of at least 1000 metres beneath us. This kid walked to the edge of the rock, looked over, spun round and threw his legs over the edge. He held himself in place with one hand, the other waving at the camera, while the rest of his body dangled over the edge of the precipice. I was so shocked I could not take the photo.

After many hours at Machu Picchu we took the bus down to Aqua Calientes and relaxed for a couple of hours in the hot springs. We then caught the train and bus back to Cusco. It was 8.30pm when we got back and we were all shattered but a few of us managed to rally ourselves and went out for a "couple of quiet ones" to celebrate the Trek. We somehow managed to party hard until 5am the next morning. I seem to recall showing Cusco some "real" dancing. Oh dear!!! I know I have said this before but this really was one of the best days ever.

Cusco, by the way, is a fantastic City, full of beautiful architecture, amazing Inca artefacts (the World Famous 12 sided stone, no? I had never heard of it either), and it is a great Party town. Some of the locals markets selling sheep, cow and pig heads can be a bit gross. That reminds me I went into a butchers yesterday and asked "Have you got a sheeps head?" "No" he replied "it's the way I part my hair" (Many thanks to my sis, Gill, for that one. It is the only joke I have heard her tell, and she wheels it out at every possible opportunity).

I think I will leave it at that, although there is much more to tell, so until the next time, when we have mines, salt flats and white water rafting......oh and Argentina.

Be Good

Paul X

Ps. I think I might have found the Worlds Worst Place to Live. We have had the misfortune to visit a town called Juliaca, Peru 3 times now, due to out returning to do the Inca Trail. It has been voted, unanimously, as the ugliest blot on the landscape we have seen this trip. Hope you enjoy the pic. X