The road to Machu Picchu part two: Elvis legs
Yogic mountainside breathing and a taste of how sophisticated people holiday
Hello, me again! I hope you don’t mind me cluttering up your inbox for the second time in a week, but there’s just so much to tell you. First, some good news: Dave woke up to an email from Airbnb this morning and I think we are off the hook for Showergate, woohoo! Cancel the Go Fund Me page.
It’s been a strange and quite stressful process. In short, Dave was billed £562.10 after a badly-fitted shower screen fell on him, reduced inexplicably to £488 once the Airbnb conflict team got involved. Airbnb initially rejected our appeal against this. Dave sent another email with some “I will talk to my lawyer!” guff and their reply was basically “sorry not sorry”. But then this morning, after a third auto-request to pay up, our case was dropped.
Our learnings, in case useful for someone else one day, are these: where there is damage, Airbnb will request payment three times from the guests if they are deemed at fault. As a guest you can reject the request and appeal the decision. Airbnb will ultimately reimburse the host through their insurance policy, AirCover, which is what we had hoped might happen from the beginning, especially given the shower screen was faulty and Dave was injured.
Dave will still appeal the final judgement from Airbnb to clear his innocent name. But in the meantime, there is a note against his conduct on his Airbnb profile that apparently only Airbnb administrators can see – presumably so that if something like this happens again in future, they will be less sympathetic and mark us down as wrong-uns. It feels unfair, but I’m hardly surprised. Airbnb has had a lot of slack recently in the news for being meanies. As someone who has listed my flat on Airbnb in the past it’s good to know they do ultimately reimburse hosts, but it’s clearly not straightforward and of course Airbnb want to avoid paying through the insurance policy as much as possible.
Anyway, where were we. Ollantaytambo was unexpectedly beautiful. I was ready for Machu Picchu to knock it out the park when it came to big views, but this neighbouring village was a destination in itself – a very twee main square surrounded by mountain peaks dotted with Inca ruins, lots of excellent restaurants and cafés, with boutique shops and an artisanal market across a little stream.
As mentioned in Part One, our accommodation was somewhat basic, and we arrived to find a rather mottled llama skin on our bed in lieu of a blanket, but we did manage to get our laundry done and brave some more cold showers – which was tough in the early mornings. While it’s hot in the sunshine in these parts, it gets very cold at night because of the altitude – once the sun dips behind those enormous peaks it’s a quick switch from shorts and t-shirts to warm trousers and jackets.
Dave and I got our eye in for Machu Picchu by visiting the Ollantaytambo ruins. This particular Inca site includes some enormous layered terraces (used for growing different kinds of food at different altitudes and temperatures – genius), a temple to the sun and an impressive grain store that looks a bit like a cathedral. They were built around the mid-15th century as part of the emperor Pachacuti’s personal estate and are still in pretty good condition, despite the Spanish coming along later to create havoc.
We had our first taste of alpaca at Mawic restaurant, and our second at La Serranita (both ordered by Dave but I did enjoy a few bites). We’re yet to try guinea pig… I wouldn’t turn it down if it was put in front of me but I don’t want to be the one to order it because it would feel like such a betrayal of Milly, the guinea pig I adopted as a teenager (RIP). I realise it’s a slippery argument, ethically, and I’m in danger of turning into my mother who only eats chicken because every other animal is deemed too cute. For the record, the vegetable grill at La Serranita was superb.
Here’s an embarrassing confession: I got a dodgy pedicure while in Lima the other week. The woman stabbed and pulled at my cuticles so much that I developed an infection in my fourth right toe. By the time we got to Ollantaytambo, my toe was so swollen and sore I could hardly walk on it and was hobbling around mostly in flip flops. I kept it quiet because I didn’t want to freak anyone out before our Big Hike, but at the 11th hour realised I needed to do something about it if I was going to make it up the mountain at all.
Luckily, one can simply walk into a pharmacy on a bank holiday in Peru and be given antibiotics over the counter, no questions asked. I did offer to show the pharmacist my toe, but she wasn’t too fussed either way. Like some kind of witchcraft, I started to feel better almost immediately (isn’t basic medicine amazing?) and with relief found I could fit my foot into my hiking shoe once again.
On Thursday, we left for Machu Picchu: a Big Day. Possibly the most anticipated day of our trip so far, partly because it is the only thing we had booked so far in advance, and partly because – well, it’s Machu Picchu! I just hoped my little toe wouldn’t let me down.
Dave and I woke up at 5.30 to meet Zlata and Greg at Ollantaytambo train station. From here on, we can take zero credit for all of the organisation – Zlata and Greg planned it all for us through their tour agency, Enigma – which explains why every step went so smoothly and involved zero excrement-ridden buses.
The four of us took a train – a first for me and D on this trip! – through the Sacred Valley to Chachabamba, the starting point for our hike up to the Machu Picchu citadel. The plan was for us to stay overnight in Aguas Calientes (the town nearest to Machu Picchu), and so, in a very exciting move, our big rucksacks were taken from us and sent on to our hotel in Cusco (the first of many little tastes of how sophisticated people holiday).
It’s possible to hike the full 39km Inca Trail over four days and camp along the way, but we opted for two days of hiking with a stopover in a very bougie hotel in Aguas Calientes with flushing toilets (as I told you: sophisticated). The hike we did on the first day up to the citadel was 13km at altitude (from 2,250m to 2,700m high) and took us around five hours with a lunch stop (very good going, according to Nilo, our guide!). That felt like plenty of activity for the four of us, especially when we saw the bar and natural hot spring baths back at the hotel. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The hike was challenging, but not the worst – I think I found it much more difficult at certain points walking around Rio de Janeiro, or hiking over the small hill in Ilha Grande in the heat and humidity. It was definitely hot in the sun, and we were all completely overdressed because we’d been told to prepare for the cold at this high altitude. But the air was really fresh and the jungle provided plenty of shade up the mountain. Every corner presented another incredible view and our spirits were very high, while our egos grew every time we overtook another group of hikers.
When we reached the famous Sun Gate (“Intipunku”), the imposing stone gateway that serves as the main entrance to Machu Picchu, it took us a couple of minutes to realise the significance, because we’d had so many little pauses along the route to admire the view. But then we spotted our first glimpse of the Machu Picchu citadel, a truly spectacular sight thanks to clear skies and bright sunshine. High on endorphins and trail mix, we flew the last 1.5km down to the site to meet the resident llamas and pose for “all the classical photos” as choreographed by Nilo, for whom this was no first rodeo.
A moment for Nilo, our Quechua guide: what a hero. Nilo has climbed this particular route more than 200 times and goes exploring unchartered territory in the region during his spare time. Last year, he and his brother discovered a previously unknown Inca site just while out hiking. Oh, and as he frequently told us, his five-year-old son completed the Machu Picchu hike in much less time than us.
Dinner and drinks back at the hotel in Aguas Calientes were pure heaven. Although to be honest, just having a hot shower and flushing toilet was luxury enough for me and Dave after the past few weeks. The four of us celebrated our achievements with some pisco sours (Nilo included) before lolling around in the pool and hot springs in the hotel grounds. I ate the most amazing trout and squid ink ravioli for dinner, and then for some reason we decided to continue the party with a second bottle of wine in the hotel bar.
Suffice to say, the second day’s hike was difficult.
I woke up at around 3am to the sound of torrential rain and the busy river under our window. For six hours, the rain didn’t stop. As Nilo told us, lots of people do the four day hike to Machu Picchu only to get to the Sun Gate and be engulfed in cloud. Today was one of those days, and we realised just how lucky we had been to have so much sunshine and blue sky the previous day.
The day two hike was a shorter but much steeper climb up Machu Picchu mountain itself – involving 2,470 original Inca steps designed to kill your calves on the way down. Nilo arrived dressed for the theatre in a pressed white shirt and cream chinos, as if he didn’t need to tell us just how easy he found all this running up and down mountains. As the rain dried up, the four of us quickly shed ponchos and layers and set to climbing 661m over 3km – to an altitude of 3,067m (ie, steep) – and back again,
Unlike the trail the day before, these steps were slippery and wound tightly around the mountain, sometimes with sheer drops either side that made my stomach lurch. I’m not sure if the mist made it better or worse, not being able to see what, if anything, would break my fall. At one point, we turned a corner and I lost myself for just a second. Until that point I’d been looking up at the path ahead, but now, looking down, I was frozen to the spot, suffering from what my South African mountaineering friend Steph likes to call “Elvis legs”.
Like a flash, Nilo, who I suspect might live for moments like this, was at my side commanding me to sit down and “do some yogic breathing”, before leading me up to the top arm in arm – me grabbing on to whatever I could to hold on to, him completely unfazed by the drop and checking his phone. What a guy. The views from the top were minimal, given the cloud, but it did still feel magical to be so high up in the cloud forest with not a hint of wind or noise from down below.
Friday night and the journey back to Cusco required another train – but not just any train, the Hiram Bingham service with a three course dinner and open bar. I can’t tell you how long the journey was, but I do have video evidence of the champagne-induced dancing in the live music carriage. I believe I led the charge, motivated to get away from a conversation with a lovely but very drunk woman from North Carolina who was telling me all about her fears of flying and insects.
By the time we rolled into Cusco we had to be herded off the train and gathered up like a bag of cats into our taxi for the ride on to the next fabulous hotel. For a millisecond I felt ashamed, but then we saw Nilo waiting for us – armed with a video of his own, showing him pouring shots and dancing on the train bar with friends. The night continued in La Chupiteria bar, where manager Walter invited us all to drink rainbow striped shots off a ski (?!) and we danced to Coldplay and other terrible things like basic gringos into the early hours.
By the time Saturday’s city tour rolled around, we were all feeling very fragile. Nilo was a trooper, taking us around the old city walls of Cusco to learn about Inca architecture and how the silly Spanish tried and failed to tear down their stone walls, only to end up rebuilding them much less skilfully. We visited the Qorikancha temple, which once had gold walls and floors before the Spanish got to them. We visited a lady with lots of different coloured ears of corn. And then we went for well-earned fresh juices at the San Pedro market in an attempt to reboot our systems.
Dinner that night was at Pachapapa in the old town. I wish I could say we learned our lesson on the drinking, but the following day was Zlata and Greg’s final one, and it ended in Molly’s Irish bar at closing time, before the aforementioned sobbing goodbyes in front of the Catedral del Cusco and the worst hangover of my trip so far.
It’s a strange feeling to have so many amazing experiences in the space of week with friends, on the other side of the world – it’s even stranger to suddenly wake up one morning and realise they’ve gone again, the holiday within the holiday over. I got so used to having Z&G around – and following their itinerary, not having to think too much about anything – that I almost fooled myself into thinking this was normal life. But that’s the bittersweet thing about having friends and family come to visit during this long tour. The memories are fantastic but the comedown is real.
For the meantime, Dave and I are slowing things down a notch and hanging out in Cusco a while longer – catching up on sleep and weaning ourselves off those hotel breakfasts and hot showers. We will be steering clear of the ski shots at least.
Travel bits and tips from this week
In Ollantaytambo, Dave and I ate at Mawick and La Serranita, but you’re really spoiled for choice for nice places to eat.
We also had a very decent £2 menu del dia lunch with awesome views at Inka’s Tower, although it did appear to be run entirely by one seven-year-old girl.
In Ollantaytambo we stayed at Paqocha Bed & Breakfast. As I mentioned before, it was cheap, right next to an archaeological site, and came with free breakfast. However: cold shower, dead llama on the bed, and they forgot to give us breakfast.
Our luck changed dramatically the following night when we stayed at the beautiful Inkaterra Machu Picchu Pueblo Hotel.
We took the Hiram Bingham train back to Cusco from Machu Picchu (Aguas Calientes) and oh my goodness.
Drinks were taken at La Chupiteria and Molly’s Irish Bar and probably other places, too.
We had two good meals at Pachapapa (outdoors, big clay oven, trout and alpaca and pork and veg) and Organika (lots of organic veg, as the name suggests, plus fish and steaks and all the usual fare, just with a slightly snobbier attitude).
We visited the Qorikancha temple, and also the regional historical museum of Cusco, where Dave discovered his 16th century doppelganger. See for yourself.
Loved this, R. I lolled, I snorted and I froze in sympathy at the sight of those Inca steps of hell