Day One of the Inca Trail





About to Embark on a Dream Journey!

 As we sat in our orientation session the night before our big trek, I heard something that jarred my very soul. "Meet at 4:30am in the square". Ummm.. pardon?! Does that time even exist?! But sure enough, our group of 6 trekkers was instructed to meet at the ungodly hour of 4:30 am to begin our trek. After an exhausting day touring the Sacred Valley, my Dad and I hurried home to get packed and catch some shut eye before our early morning meeting time. We had every intention of getting into bed early... except we didn't. After maybe an hour of sleep, we dragged our tired butts to the square to meet our equally sleepy trek mates. All six of us piled into a van filled with less than pleasant smelling porters. Eager to catch up on some sleep on our two hour bus ride to Ollantaytambo where we'd stop for breakfast, we pulled down our hats and snuggled in for the ride. All hopes of a nap were dashed when the porters decided to engage in an outrageously loud and animated conversation and play reggaeton at a volume that could only be considered illegal for that time of the morning. After stopping off in Ollantaytambo for a quick breakfast, the bus dropped us off to km 82, the start of the Inca Trail, or Camino Inka en Espanol.



Our sleepiness soon turned to pure excitement as the fact that we were finally on the Inca Trail registered in our still foggy brains. As the day progressed, however, those smiles soon turned to brows furrowed in determination and the occasional barely audible swear word. My Dad and I had decided not to spend the extra $120 per person to have our bags carried. Biggest mistake EVER! Carrying my 40-50lb bag uphill and downhill for hours was the most treacherous thing I've ever done, my pack weighing me down and bruising my hip bones with each step I took. The halfway resting point where we'd stop for lunch and a quick siesta was like a carrot dangling in front of us. "It's only two hours away", the guide encouraged us. Well let me tell you, it was the longest two hours of life. That campsite MUST HAVE kept moving further and further away with each step we took. That’s the only logical explanation. On route, two of our fellow trekkers came running back to us, clearly alarmed. Turns out, there was a stray bull on the road and they were terrified to walk past it. It was especially funny because one of them was wearing red! Erring on the side of caution, we climbed up the bank and waited for it to pass. Along the way, we also encountered a snake (dead, thank God!) and what appeared to be semi-domesticated horses with no owners. We yielded to the wild animals in an attempt to avoid becoming road kill before even seeing Machu Picchu.



As I walked, all I could focus on was making it to lunch. One foot in front of the other. I couldn't even take in the breathtaking scenery for fear of plowing through the mini mountains of llama/donkey/horse poo that lined the trail. Finally, when I literally couldn't take another step, we arrived at the campsite to a chorus of cheers and high fives from our porters. They had gone up ahead to cook lunch and set everything up. Although I could barely stay awake and my feet felt like they'd be stabbed 1000 times with rusted razors, I quite enjoyed the lunch. It was amazing what they could put together with a camp stove and supplies that they brought on their backs. We had an avocado appetizer, soup, fish and vegetables. Everything was well prepared and beautifully presented. After lunch, we had precious little time for a siesta. Not caring about anything but the pain and exhaustion, I lay down on a tarp on the ground and feel into a deep slumber. What felt like moments later, it was time to go again. I managed to hire a porter on the spot who would take my bag for the rest of the trek. Thank God! I wouldn't have been able to make it with that bag. It felt like I was carrying an elephant on my back. Dad, on the other hand, kept his bag despite an injured knee. I don't know how he did it!



The toilets on the trail made the public toilets in Peru seem like a dream, and trust me, that takes A LOT! These toilets were basically just toilet bowls embedded into the ground. I had no idea what to do when I walked into one for the first time. Let's just say it's not a part of the Inca Trail that I will look back on fondly!

As we continued on the trek, our guide repeatedly told us that today was the easy day and the next day would be the hardest one of the trek. Today was easy?! For who?? The Incas maybe! The next day we'd be headed up the steepest ascent: 4200m above sea level to Warmiwanusca, also known as Dead Woman's Pass. Now there's a comforting name!

 When we finally arrived at our campsite after about 6 hours of trekking, it felt like I had reached heaven itself. After our "happy hour" consisting of hot tea and snacks, we debated staying awake to bring in the New Year, but couldn't fathom the thought of keeping our eyes open any longer. As I cuddled into my sleeping bag, I wondered what the heck had possessed me to walk this trail instead of taking the comfortable train. I tried to psych myself up for the next day, telling myself that I had been dreaming of this moment for years. Then it truly dawned on me just where I was- in a tent in the Andes, traveling along the trail that Incas had travelled so many years before. This was my dream, and here I was actually doing it! By 8pm on News Year Eve 2011, after approximately 16 kms of trekking, we were all fast asleep, snug in our tents, 3800m above sea level.