We arrived at the office at 20 minutes early the check in for our trip, we didn’t have a whole load of information on what the plan was and we were surprised to discover that we were the only ones here.
Having confirmed that we were present and correct, we decided that we had time to grab a quick coffee before we had to get on our bus (train? Car? Plane?). As usual, we quickly discovered that we did not have time. We haven’t been in London for nearly five months by this point and we still don’t seem to have grasped that nowhere in the world moves as fast. 15 minutes to “grab a coffee” was never going to be enough here. By the time we had our beverages in hand, we were already running five minutes late.
We were collected from the tour office and ushered into a classic minibus, the likes of which we had been on countless times throughout our South America trip. We didn’t realise quite how far away the train station was however, so the two hour trip took us by surprise. The roads left a lot to be desired and we were thrown around for almost the entire journey. By the time we reached the train station, we were thankful to be getting off the bus and dreading our return journey. We had just enough time to grab some train snacks and some train beers before our chariot arrived.
The train journey was beautiful and slightly uneventful. Sadly, we were sitting on the wrong side of the train to benefit from the absolute best views but we still enjoyed looking up at the avatar-esque landscapes that honestly looked like the belonged more on a film than in real life. We had opted for the absolute cheapest option and therefore didn’t get any fun train shows or snacks, but we still had a carriage that had windows in the ceiling allowing us to really get soaked up in the magic of the valley.
When we arrived, we jumped off the train and found a man with a notice board and something that looked vaguely like our names scrawled on it. He walked us five minutes down the road to our hotel. We checked in and half marvelled at, half dreaded the idea of sleeping with the raging torrent of a river that we could see and here just outside our window.
The town we had arrived at was called Aguas Calliente (hot waters for those non Spanish speaking noobs). As one might imagine, there were some hot springs available for the tourists who were not currently at Machu Picchu to wallow in. We had a quick location search and found that these hot springs were a mere fifteen minutes away (although there were two restaurants called “Hot Springs” and “Hot Springs 2” within a three minute walk from us). The reviews were not glowing, but we are not the kind of people who travel for four hours to reach a town called Hot Waters and not at least take a dip.
The walk up to the springs was all uphill and took us past endless amounts of restaurants and shops, all of whom were desperate for our custom during this very quiet season. We politely declined what felt like over a hundred times and kept trudging up the hill towards the glorious warm water bath we knew we deserved. Part of the issue is that, where we had been at over 3500m above sea level for the past three weeks, we were used to the cold. We hadn’t felt truly warm since we had left Santiago earlier in the month and therefore, our desire for hot springs was based on this. Aguas Callientes, however is a mere 2000m above sea level and therefore is significantly warmer. The hot springs would not be appreciated in the same way by our now very warm bodies.
When we finally reached the entrance, we were pretty impressed by how grand it was. Clearly playing on the Incan history of the area, there were large depictions of ancient Incan Kings and cities carved into the rocks and the surrounding area was made up of beautiful and mysterious jungle. We paid our 20 Soles (about £5) and wandered up. Our first misgivings came when we reached the cloakroom. It was located up some stairs when the changing room was downstairs. So you had to go down, get into your costume, walk back up into the lobby area in said costume to hand in your bag (and repeat this whilst soaking wet after your dip). I know it’s not a big deal but it just wasn’t a good start, you know?
As it turns out, the pools were grim. There was seemingly no end to the amount of tickets they would sell, despite the fact that there were only five small pools. There were no rules about long hair needing to be tied up, no rules about showering before you entered the pools and there was also a very frequent bar service which lead me to believe that the pools we were currently stewing in were at least 20% booze, 10% pee and 37% hair. There was also a distinct smell of metal, which I’m fairly sure was more contributed to by the pipework of the place than the supposed “healing minerals”. Needless to say, we didn’t last very long. We spent as long as we could stomach in the lukewarm waters before desperately showering off the filth (to top it off, there was a used razor on the floor of the showers which I very nearly stepped on).
Feeling slightly less clean than when we entered the pools, we headed back to the hotel to meet our guide for the next day and to get a briefing and find out what to expect. As seems to be par for the course in this part of the world, he was running about half an hour late so we entertained ourselves playing some cards. When he eventually arrived, the whole conversation took about five minutes.
We were to meet in the square at six the next morning and bring all our tickets (bloody hell this is a boring paragraph, sorry I put you through that). After that it was off to a quick dinner and then an early bed.
The next day, we left the hotel on time to meet our guide in the main square, packed breakfast in had. Of course, our guide did not leave his house on time and showed up a good fifteen minutes late. This gave us a chance to have a quick look around the square and fight off the multitude of dogs sniffing around our breakfasts.
We jumped in the queue for the bus to take us up the hill to the ancient city of Machu Picchu. As the attendants made their way along the queue, preemptively checking tickets to minimise delays as thousands of people use these buses everyday. It quickly became clear that all was not well within our group. The German couple behind us seem to be having quite a heated discussion with the attendants. As it turns out, their tour operator had either not booked them bus tickets, or not given them the tickets they needed to reach the citadel. Luckily, the bus ticket office was open and handily, right next to where we were in the queue. They were able to run in and purchase two tickets before we made our way to the front of the queue.
When we arrived at the complex, we popped to the loo, stashed our bags in the cloakroom and shoved our breakfast into our faces. As it turns out, food is not allowed in the citadel and there are no toilets inside. We suspect this is to prevent people from spending the entire day inside as there are heavy restrictions on how many people are allowed in at once.
After much faffing and dawdling, we were finally allowed inside. The first thing we encountered was a lot of stairs. Apparently this mountain top city was up a bloody mountain, who knew? We trudged up the stairs and listened to our guide’s tales about the history of the city, as well as an overview of the local flora and fauna. Apparently there are bears that live in the surrounding mountains and occasionally roam the citadel at night.
After the climb we were treated to our first view of the area; all we could see were clouds. We were insured that this is very common for this to happen as we had arrived so early in the morning. We were all slightly disappointed but, after waiting for a minute or two some of the wispy clouds started to clear and we could finally catch a glimpse.
Our guide decided that, because of the weather, we would make our way out to the Incan bridge; this involved a cliff edge trail to an ancient bridge that has supposedly been there since Incan times and was actually used by the Incans. We set off on this trail and were slightly perplexed to find that we had to sign in and out of the trail, supposedly to alert the guards of people who have not returned (it felt a bit gimmicky but added to the excitement). We then walked the trail, which was about half an hour each way and was, in truth, quite dicey. When we finally arrived at the Incan Bridge, it was a little, teensy bit of a let down. I don’t know what we had been expecting though, to be honest.
Next it was time to go and see the terraces. These are the places where most photos you will see of Machu Picchu are taken from. The fog had cleared and the view was glorious.
The whole citadel was absolutely breath-taking and far cooler than any photo can do justice to. It was hard to believe how ancient this place was and how recently it was rediscovered. Whilst walking around to the various viewpoints, we watched a couple get engaged in front of all their family and friends, I can see why he chose here, this place is truly something special.
Our final stop with the guide was down to the city itself, she ushered us into the courtyard and gave us the final piece of the history puzzle. She informed us that only nobility had lived in this city and this helped to explain the grandeur. She then left to go and meet her next tour and left us to wander around the area by ourselves for a while.
Having spent as long as we could seeing every inch of the city, we decided it was time to start making our way out. We were also getting pretty hungry. As we slowly started ambling towards the exit when we heard some screams. We turned a corner and flattened ourselves against the wall as three girls ran straight past us shrieking as if they were scared for their lives. Not knowing what on earth was going on, we turned around slowly and found ourselves face to face with a six foot llama! As cute as these guys are from afar, up close and unexpected, they can actually be pretty alarming! She seemed pretty intent on chasing the screaming girls so started towards us, giving us the urge to run too.
A groundskeeper came running round the corner. He told people to stop screaming and ensured us the llama was safe, as it turns out they are just very curious creatures and she probably thought the girls running was some kind of game and she wanted to get involved. As she round the corner and entered a courtyard, she encountered a hell of a lot of people on their tours and taking pictures. She wandered around the courtyard and photobombed as many pictures as she could manage before she got bored and started munching the weeds growing from the walls.
After this last bit of excitement, it really was time for lunch. We headed out of the exit, challenging our knees with every step down the mountain. The very moment we reached the Jungle Café at the exit, the heavens opened and anyone who was not undercover was instantly drenched. Feeling pretty smug we ordered some food to share, treating ourselves as we had been looking forward to this day for almost a year. We sat at the edge of the café, overlooking the jungle, watching the rain, eating our Peruvian food and drinking Peruvian beer. We were tired, and very content. It’s a simple moment that will stay with me for a long time.
For some reason I have been struggling for inspiration lately, maybe it was the stressful ending to our trip, the fact that I don’t feel like we got finish it. Maybe it’s the Covid-19 lockdown; everyone always says a thousand things they would do if they had the time, but as soon as you have the time all you really want to do is relax. Either way, logging in today and finding out that my laptop turned Autosave off and that I have lost 2 hours of work from last week isn’t putting me in the best mood. Having said that, today is sunny, I have a banana milkshake with rum in my hand and the garden is looking lovely. It’s enough to get anyone’s creative juices running. So lets get this over with.
When we arrived back into town, we headed straight for a cute little coffee shop overlooking the station and the river, this way we would get to be train spotters and occasionally gaze out over the insanely fast flowing river and feel very zen. We ordered a cake and some icecream and a coffee each and began to make a plan for the rest of the day; we still had 9 hours until our train. In classic fashion, the cake which looked insanely good behind the protective glass of the counter, was ludicrously disappointing. It was an Oreo cheesecake but sopmehow managed to taste like stale chocolate jelly. The ice-cream and coffee were good though, so we couldn’t complain too much.
With a destination in mind we set off in search of the tarin tracks that we would follow to a beautiful park full of waterfalls, fireflys and fantastic rainforest plants, according to Los Jardines de Mandor’s TripAdvisor reviews. The walk itself was to be as interesting as the destination as it was along the train tracks that link Aguas Caliente to the other town which usually feeds into Machu Picchu (currently closed off to tourists due to the landslides that had devastated the area), Hidroelectrica.
As usual with us, we soon realised that we were woefully underprepared for the endeavour we had set out on. This was a 10km trek that we had set out on without any water, heading into the deep jungle with absolutely zero protective equipment or real awareness of what was out there that could cause us harm. We quickly started to walk very carefully so as not to step on any snakes that may have popped out of the jungle for a bit of a lie down, and our eyes kept darting back to the treeline every time we heard a rustle as we were keen to avoid any unexpected bear attacks.
After about forty minutes of walking we realised something two things, the first was that it was about to chuck it down and the second was that we only had an hour of daylight left, and we were still twenty minutes from our destination. After a quick discussion we decided that we were “in for a penny, in for a pound” and so we trudged on. Less than ten minutes later, our prediction came true and the heavens opened. Luckily we were afforded some light protectin by our fancy puffer jackets that we had bought in New Zealand, but they could definitely be described as water resistant and not downpour-proof.
When we finally got to the park, I think you can guess what happened. It was closed. Yes, we had just walked an hour, risked death by poisonous or viscious animal and decided to sacrifice the sunlight for the sake of an attraction that wasn’t even open.
Not too discouraged by the whole experience, the walk was pretty spectacular and we had nothing else to be doing anyway (at least this had been free), we headed back into town. We had successfully killed about two and a half hours and, more importantly, had thoroughly earned our pisco sours. The walk back took a little longer due to the rain making everything slippery and miserable but every minute we spent out and about was a bonus.
We finally made it back into town and chose the first restaurant we could fine to hunker down in. by this point it was pitch black and we were soaked through. Amazingly, this restaurant had a pizza oven in the seating area and the waiters wasted no time taking out wet things and draping them over the toasty warm surfaces for us. This would turn out to be one of the highlights of the night.
We stayed here for a few hours, drinking pisco sours, playing cards and, eventually, ordering some dinner. By the time we were due to leave to catch our train, our bellies were full and warm, and we were ready to snooze all the way home.
After a quick look through the market for some Machu Picchu themed memorabilia, we went into the train station and joined the fray. With it being pitch black, there wasn’t anything stay awake for on the train home so we both let our heads drop the table to get a little rest. We weren’t really sure what awaited us on the other side, but what we met was pandemonium. There were hundreds of mini cabs, minibuses and luxury cab drivers waiting at the train station all vying for our attention and our business.
We knew we had a minibus booked, what we did not know was how we would find it. Given how our names had been misspelled when we arrived in Aguas Caliente just added to our trepidation of trying to locate our driver. Eventually we heard the dulcet tones of someone yelling “MARTIN!” at the top of their lungs and decided that had to be our guy.
The journey back was terrifying, two hours of dirt roads taken at 75mph with insanely harsh braking chucked in every ten minutes for speed bumps or swerving around stray animals made for the one of the least relaxing journeys I have ever taken. The fact that there were 5 more people on the bus than there was space for jump amplified the whole experience.
We eventually arrived back in Cusco and essentially crawled back up the hill to our hostel. Realised that we didn’t actually know which room rould be ours, panicked a bit (it was nearly 2am by this point). We eventually realised that the room number was actually printed on the key (5th floor!), crawled up the stairs and threw ourselves into bed.