Cusco. Once the capital of the Incan Empire, now a bustling city spread over the surrounding hills. Many people had recommended Cusco as a destination, so we were settling here for a little over two weeks. Jerry found us an Airbnb apartment for a whopping NZ$25 a night, which is an impressive feat, even for him.
Being a tourist hub, Cusco was the best destination so far for souvenir shopping, with endless artisanal markets of textiles and tchotchkes, including alpaca jumpers stacked high (the actual quantity of alpaca wool was questionable and likely variable, but the acrylic jumpers were adorable regardless). I now have so many jumpers. I have more jumpers than t-shirts, which is a flaw in my packing list, and is making it slightly difficult to shut my bag.
Cusco is also a central hub for those hoping to explore the region, which includes Machu Picchu and the Sacred Valley, Rainbow Mountain, and a range of other beautiful natural sites in its surroundings. Because it is such a destination for day trips, Cusco reminded us of Chiang Mai, Thailand, and Goreme, Turkiye, as early every morning, the streets are teeming with minivans, picking up tourists from hotels before heading out on tours.
A hotel pick up is a blessing and a curse. It is mostly a blessing. Getting picked up, right from your doorstep? That’s a luxury we are rarely afforded back home. You do enter the “pick up time lottery”. If you’re one of the first pick ups, it’s often in the wee hours of the morning, and then you spend an hour looping the area to pick up everyone else. However, the main reason it is a curse is that Jerry then suffers his number one pet peeve, which is waiting for people who are not ready at the meeting spot at their designated time. Every time, at 5am, as we sit in a van outside someone’s hotel, waiting for 20 minutes because they slept through their alarm, I can see steam starting to billow out of Jerry’s ears. I kind of wish Jerry was a tour guide, because he always mentions that it says “be ready at your designated time, or the bus will leave without you!” and then inevitably, because they need your patronage, the bus never does leave without them. If he was a tour guide, he says he would change that. I wonder if he’d be as cutthroat as he seems.
We went on several tours during our time in Cusco, including a trip to Palccoyo, which is a quieter alternative to Rainbow Mountain. We felt particularly thankful for our acclimatisation to altitude here, as many people had recently flown from sea level, and were therefore gasping for air on the gentle walk at the 4900m elevation. That could never be us (please disregard any information from the blog of my altitude-related dramatics in weeks 36 & 37). We breezed through, so got to spend extra time taking photos with the stylishly dressed alpacas along the way.
Jerry even squeezed one final day hike right at the end of our time in Cusco, tackling a mammoth 16 hour day out at the seven lagoons surrounding Ausangate. I was well past any more hiking, and instead took sanctuary in cafes, researching the best massage spots in town. My research paid off, as we enjoyed not one, but two NZ$16 hour long massages in our final days there.
Jerry's collection of GoPro selfies from his solo trip
We also went on a day tour through the Sacred Valley. You’ve got to hand it to the Incas, they built some pretty cool places. Jerry booked with a smaller company, and we were the only group members who predominantly spoke English, so after explaining to 12 people in Spanish, with me mostly following along (as long as you don’t test me on it…), Jerry then sheepishly smiled as the guide looked right to him and gave him his own personalised tour.
Booking a one day tour meant we could see all four of the big ruins in the valley, as well as the Mara salt mines, but it was more rushed and crowded than we would have liked. If we had given Cusco the planning time it deserved, we probably would have stayed in Ollantaytambo for a few days, and explored the ruins ourselves. However, this section of the trip suffered from being 9 months into the trip, and therefore being in a bit of a blindspot regarding planning. If you’re visiting, the Pisac ruins are an epic spot for a long wander-y explore, and as they’re the closest to Cusco, you can take a collectivo, which takes about an hour. That way, you aren’t moving in a swarm with the other tours.
The next day was Jerry’s birthday, and we were keen to reclaim our sense of intrepid exploration. We took the public bus out to Tambomachay, and explored the Northern ruins on our own, with Jerry acting as guide, as he shared information from the internet he’d pre-saved about each spot. Sacsayhuaman was a particular favourite.
I was a bit behind on the Instagram stories (when am I not), which meant those following along thought I was the WORST wife in the world, subjecting Jerry to a 14 hour bus from hell as his birthday present. Jerry was particularly happy about this, as he received copious amounts of birthday well wishes from around the world, AND an equal number of sympathetic commiserations.
We continued Jerry’s birthday celebrations that evening at Kion, a Peruvian Chinese restaurant in Cusco. We ordered as if we were a family of four, and delighted in Peking duck, pork and ginger wontons, pork belly bao, and more. I may have mentioned that a birthday was being celebrated, so I was expecting a bit of singing come dessert. I wasn’t expecting the entire waitstaff to come over and enthusiastically break into a three-verse version of feliz cumpleaños, but I thoroughly enjoyed it as Jerry became the centre of attention of the entire restaurant.
Then came time for Jerry’s birthday gift (that I conveniently get as well), our jewel in Cusco’s crown. The Salkantay trek to Machu Picchu. Five days of hiking, past Humantay lagoon, over the Salkantay pass, then descending into the jungle for a couple of days, before a final ascent up to Machu Picchu. Some people would say that 75km of hiking at altitude, over some quite difficult terrain, might be considered a punishment rather than a gift. I had my reservations, but I figured it would either be a life-affirming, cornerstone experience of the trip, or it would be a funny story when I eventually recovered.
THE SALKANTAY TREK
DAY 1:
We were blessed with another 4:30am pick up time, having lost the lottery and therefore being picked up first. Thankfully, we were in the front of the van; saved from the worst of the motion sickness as we then went hooning into the mountains. I can only be thankful that it was still dark, as it meant I couldn’t see the precarious drop-offs out the window, as our driver tried to beat the land speed record. Jerry was green tinged on arrival to breakfast, two hours later. I think we were all excited to get out of the van and start walking, just for some fresh air.
Walking, drinking, and breathing proved to be too many simultaneous activities for oxygen deprived brains as we adjusted to exercise at altitude, so we made a lot of stops during that first stretch. We were rewarded with glorious weather at Humantay lake. As you climbed higher, the water became an ever increasingly vibrant blue. It was a perfect stop, with gorgeous views. We were thrilled by the start of the hike, until a member of our group decided that she’d arrive 20 minutes late to our allotted meeting time, with absolutely no concern for being so late and keeping everyone from their lunch. Cue Jerry’s ear steam re-emerging. Thankfully, she soon joined a different group who better fit her vibe, and Jerry breathed a sigh of relief.
The last section of the day was a leisurely downhill and flat section, before we arrived at camp. This campsite was nestled midway up the valley, looking right at Salkantay mountain. This camp had a mixture of A frame cabins and glass domes. A dome is not a guarantee, due to there only being a small number, so we felt absolutely euphoric when we were allocated one.
We spent our afternoon lounging in the sunny dome, watching clouds drift across the base of Salkantay. As the sun dipped below the surrounding mountains, and the snow turned pink in the sunset, it was time to head up to the shared cabin for happy hour.
Happy hour would probably have been better named ‘tea time’, although it did make me very happy. It involved delightful cups of hot chocolate, and the chance to socialise with the group (without the mandatory pauses to disguise my deep gulps of air while trying to seem nonchalant as we chat while hiking.) A reflection from our multi-day experiences on this leg is that it is lovely to get beyond the “getting to know you” icebreaker stage, and spend consecutive days with new people. We had a wonderful group, which made such a positive difference to the experience. Our group slightly overindulged in the hot chocolate, which came back to bite us in the ass later when we had none left for day two, but it was blissful.
After happy hour hot choccies and dinner, it was well dark and the sky was clear and filled with stars. All of us took turns in the very limited bathroom facilities, then Jerry and I cosied up to stargaze from our sleeping bags. It was recommended that we leave our door open overnight, to stop the dome from fogging up with condensation and dripping on us all night. This meant we both wore two pairs of socks, plenty of woollen layers, and beanies to bed. We stayed up far later than we should have, watching countless shooting stars and the Milky Way directly overhead.
DAY 2:
A glass dome is probably not the place for a sleep in, but we did not have to worry about that, as we were woken up well before the sun had considered rising. This awakening was softened by having steaming cups of coca tea delivered to us right in our dome from the cooking crew, which was a lovely touch.
We had been well warned about day two. The prior evening, both guides had warned the groups that the day would be very challenging. Since the weather on the pass is changeable, there was the risk that it would be near freezing and blowing a gale. Since the group needed to wait at the pass until the final people reached it before continuing on, anyone who might lag behind should seriously consider taking one of the mules up, lest they leave their group members to freeze in the mountains. With that ominous recommendation, I began to seriously worry that I would be the single cause for our entire group ending up with frostbite. However, riding a mule up didn’t fit with my visions either, so we soldiered on, chewing on coca leaves.
Despite my body’s initial faltering at altitude in La Paz, I have since acclimatised well. I think because my body is used to being mistreated by inadequate blood pressure and/or hydration, it didn’t see the limited oxygen at 5000m as quite as much of an insult as Jerry’s body did. I therefore gassed him on the incline, and we both made it to the pass comfortably in the middle of the pack.
SALKANTAY PASS
Everyone mentioned the three-hour hike uphill, but no one was concerned with the SIX HOURS walking downhill. We descended slowly from rocky sparse terrain into the cloud forest.
Jerry stayed patiently with me as my hips and knees became increasingly creaky, until the last two hours, where I sent him scampering off ahead, to burn off some steam. I think he may have overdone it, as he arrived first into camp alongside the kitchen team. I rocked up at least half an hour later, plodding slowly. We were rewarded for our hard work with a cold shower. This shower was, more accurately, a pipe coming out of the wall in a small, corrugated iron shack with no lighting. It won’t go down in my personal history as a highlight shower, but after two days of hiking along dusty paths, it was not something to turn your nose up at either.
We spent this evening in an A frame cabin, overlooking the waterfall at Chaullay. It was a cute spot, although not particularly sealed. This became evident the next day, when we discovered a mouse had managed to get into Jerry’s zipped-up duffel bag, and eat through both the dry bag and a ziploc bag to get to some food.
Tucked in for safety against any creepy crawlies that entered the cabin overnight
DAY 3:
This day was a rest day, as we only had five hours of hiking. Not what I usually do on my rest days, but I digress. We continued down through the cloud forest, with an increasing diversity of plants. This also meant there were significantly more bugs. Jerry and I had a can of bug spray, which we were churning through thanks to the copious amounts of sandflies/mosquitoes/some type of small biting bug. We were lucky, as the bugs were appropriately deterred by our poisonous DEET-y spray, but others weren’t so lucky. When we arrived at the campsite for lunch, many people had been eaten alive and were covered in angry red spots.
Swinging out over the canyon in a slightly questionable pulley system
Jerry was pleased to have other coffee lovers in our group, as they showed the appropriate excitement for a coffee farm tour and tasting, and also went back for multiple cups. I was less enthusiastic thanks to a spate of dizziness, meaning I needed to sit on the ground for a decent chunk of the tour.
In the afternoon, there was the option to go to hot pools. I was a starter, even though I have been informed that they could more aptly be named “warm pools”. This was probably for the best, due to my dizzy spells earlier. Jerry decided to stay back at camp, for a number of reasons. He, Lou, and Mimi embarked on some unanticipated adventures of their own, first keeping watch on a wildfire that broke out on the other side of the valley, and then attempting to waterproof the disintegrating tents when a downpour began (thankfully quelling most of the wildfire risk).
While Jerry, Lou, and Mimi saved the camp, the rest of us luxuriated in the hot pools doing not much at all. When we hopped out, we were accosted by a horrendous number of mosquitoes/sandflies. I sadly sprayed half a can of bug spray over my body, and went back to being sticky. Again. We were provided with pisco and tequila shots, and played cards during the happiest of happy hours. The happiness continued in the van, where our driver cameoed as an aspiring DJ, and we party-bussed our way back to camp, completely unconcerned by the rain coming down outside.
Jerry’s creative rainproofing of our group’s tents had saved most of our belongings from the rain. His use of sticks as tent pegs was a favourite of mine). However, I will always be a fairweather camper, and the rain definitely put a damper on anyone’s plans to rave late into the night. Our guide seemed to be in agreement, as he gave us a brief overview of the next day, but missed a fair few key details in his haste to head off to bed. If we thought our early bedtime would provide us with a good rest, we were sadly mistaken…
DAY 4:
This day was our last full day of hiking. And it was long. So long. Our day officially started at the 5:30am breakfast, but it actually started at 3am, when the resident rooster decided the sun was rising. It continued to serve us false alarms of an imminent sunrise for two and a half hours, until the sun actually rose. Do roosters actually crow at dawn? From my experience, they seem to crow whenever they please. This rooster was an asshole. I particularly enjoyed my chicken at lunchtime, just to spite it.
We had a long way to go to Aguas Calientes, including more than 12km along the railway tracks from Hidroelectrica. The experience was softened by the increasingly exotic flora and fauna, including an incredible amount of butterflies. We also thoroughly enjoyed the trains that chugged past us at regular intervals, reminding us why they tell you not to walk on the tracks themselves. However, this day was particularly mentally challenging, as you’re pushing a body that has already walked for three days, and the final stretch begins to feel like endless monotony. Jerry and I listened to a history podcast in the last few kilometres, to pass the time and keep ourselves going.
We stumbled into Aguas Calientes for the final walk up the hill through the town centre. I was possessed. No, Jerry, there was NOT time to stop and take a photo of the “welcome to Machu Picchu” sign. The shower that evening was so luxurious. Hot water. An actual showerhead. A real towel, that isn’t my tea towel sized travel option. This shower might go down in my personal history as a highlight of all showering experiences.
DAY 5
The final step. Or, more accurately, the final 1600 steps. Our last stretch was to follow the Hiram Bingham road, and hike up a stone staircase carved into the hillside.
Our Machu Picchu tickets were for opening at 6am, which meant the sleep-in would have to wait one more day. At 4:30am, we set off to make the climb. Despite taking a wrong turn in the dark, we managed to redirect and make it to the top.
Machu Picchu is one of the seven modern wonders of the world. It’s on an endless number of people’s bucket lists, and is one of the most recognisable sites. When something is that famous, it's easy for its reputation to far outgrow its reality. “Paris syndrome” is the name for the very real culture shock some people experience when they visit Paris, and the reality fails to live up to lofty expectations. Because of this, we were prepared that Machu Picchu might not live up to the hype.
As the sun climbed over the surrounding mountains and cast the hazy ruins in a soft yellow glow, there was something otherworldly about it. The feeling of accomplishment added to the experience. Was that really the feeling of accomplishment, or just the protesting of my muscles, after climbing all those stairs? I’m not really sure. We were on circuit two, which offered both the overview of Machu Picchu from above, and the chance to walk in amongst the ruins.
After we finished exploring the site, it was time to head down. Despite our game plan to walk back down, my legs had independently made the decision that enough was enough. I hopped in the bus, leaving Jerry to walk down on his own. What can I say, at this point it was every man for himself, and Jerry seemed to have more energy than when we started the hike.
That afternoon, it was time to take the Inca Rail, and make our way back to Cusco. We felt a wee bit too grimy for the glamorous train, but the views through the Sacred Valley were beautiful, and made for a wonderful relaxing trundle to Ollantaytambo.
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