Salkantay no worries

So last time we blogged there wasn´t much to say. We had spent a few shiftless days in Cuzco doing next to nothing. Well, the past few days have been extremely busy and awesome, and this blog post will be a long one. So...

Day 1
We woke up Monday morning around 430 and managed to crawl over to the SAS travel building in San Francisco Plaza. We boarded a bus and off we go. We´re headed to attempt the Salkantay trek, a 35 (ish) mile walk that ascends about 4000 vertical feet before plunging downward almost two vertical miles. We had our hands full. After our bus breaks down about 30 seconds out of town and we wait for half an hour, we catch another bus and head to the foot of a trail. Because of the wait, we hop in a truck that takes us farther up the trail than we otherwise would have gone. This is bad news, because this is literally a small truck, with 16 people and their bags packed into the back. I managed to snag a spot on top of the bags, and was relatively comfortable the entire time. Stretta was next to me, but in a long limbed feat of awkwardness managed to shove his right leg under about 300 pounds of luggage. Dave faired worst, standing in the back of the truck dodging low lying limbs and the occasional cactus. Finally, however, we arrive at the beginning of our trek. We get out, hoist our bags to our backs, and walk. The first day is relatively light. We cover about 6 miles of mostly mild uphill and stop for lunch before arriving at our campsite for dinner. We arrive around 3, with tea planned for 5 and dinner for 630. Here´s where stupidity sets in. We´re camping high, around 13500 ft, but are nonetheless in a valley. To our left is a hill that starts with grass and what seems to be about 200 yards up there are rocks and snow. It´s at about 45 degrees, and looks like a mild climb. We´ve had a mild day, so we decide to hike up to the snow. Bad move. 45 minutes later we are wheezing like asthmatics in an airport smoking lounge. I´ve been walking uphill at about 70 degrees incline for what must have been miles, and as my vision narrows to a tunnel the size of a paper towel roll and my stomach seriously considers disgorging its contents, I look up to see the snow in the exact same damn place it was when we started. It´s like being on a treadmill from some frozen hellscape. Well, being the manly if incredibly out of shape men we are, we soldier on and eventually crawl to a stop at the snow. We sit there long enough to regain feeling in our extremities, and make a controlled fall that ends with us at the campsite only slightly worse for the wear. The night is short, and we crawl into bed around 8.

Day 2
This is the hell day, the day we had feared. Weighing in at a little below 12 miles, the hike starts with steep switchbacks that take us to the feet of the awe-inspiring Mount Salkantay, for which our trek is named. At this point we are at the highest point on the trek, and the highest above sea level any of us have been. The views are extraordinary. In every direction we can see mountains of a scale unheard of outside the himalayas, and a fog rolls over the valley just distantly visible far past our feet. The air is thin and whips by us, and there seems to be about 30 degrees difference between sunlight and shade. Our guide, an effervescent and exaspiratingly indefatigable man by the name of Carlos, tells us stories of the Inca, or Quichua as they are properly called, and their penchant for human sacrifice. Our other guide, Javier, doesn´t speak English so well, so he merely sits by and chain smokes cigarettes. At 15000 ft. With 9 miles left to walk. Anyways, after a lengthy stay at this pass, we head down, and down, and down. We walk down switchbacks, steep direct descents, and the occasional mild decline or slight incline. We walk down to the shrub layer, pass through it, walk down to the tree layer, pass through it, down into the jungle, and end our journey in a valley with a river raging through it that is at about 8000 ft elevation. For the math challenged, we just descended around 7000 vertical feet. Throughout this ordeal our thighs and calves are burning, and our knees are creeking like an arthritic´s on a trampoline. The lungs are at first a problem, but by the bottom the air is soup thick. Once again, the views stay phenomenal. At the top we are treated to different perspectives on Mt. Salkantay, but as we descend the views turn first into gorgeous vistas of other mountains, and finally into scenes of tree covered mountains ascending and ascending from lush valleys carved by whitewater rapids. It truly is a wonderful thing. We make camp, and play Euchre with a nice couple out of Chicago. Dave´s midwestern origins are discussed and verified, and I´m left wondering how anyone could enjoy Euchre for more than three minutes. That night we camp in one of these valleys, and are treated to an all night cacophony consisting of donkeys, chickens, horses, and other assorted creatures intent on keeping the gringos awake.

Day 3
We awake, and while I can´t speak for the others, the words that come to mind by this point are sore and gross. My body is aching pretty much everywhere from the waste down, and the lack of any sort of hygienic experience is beginning to evidence itself. Barn animals have started to make room for me. However, I gamely hoist my pack over my head (causing all downwind to feel a bit light headed) and get ready for the day. Today´s trek is milder than the last day´s, but more difficult than the first day´s. We head to the other side of the river we had been following through the valley, and essentially retrace our steps, only on the other side. While doing a giant U turn isn´t the most pleasant thing, psychologically speaking, the views stay great. While 24 hours ago the cold was vicious, our problem at this point is the heat and the bugs. We´re very much in a jungle, and when not directly next to the river, the heat and humidity are pretty unbearable. Furthermore, experienced sojourners that we rapidly have become, we are often at the front of the pack, and thus often have to wait for our less fleet of foot friends. This gives the mosquitos all the opportunity they need to feast. These beast-insects are massive. They are each around the size of a praying mantis, and travel in swarms that blot out the sun. I may exaggerate, but, for the parents, look at your sons´necks, backs, arms, and legs when they get home, and then tell me I´m lying. We got torn up. Despite these difficulties, watching the water all day was mesmerizing, and we crossed over somewhere between 5 and 10 beautiful waterfalls, some of which were huge. At the end of the day, around 3, we arrived at La Playa, so named because it is near the water. This was to be our campsite. However, one of our group had heard that there was a hot springs near by, and so we convinced our guide to take us there. We travelled an hour by bus, and arrived at Saint Theresa, home to this fabled hot spring. Until this point no one questioned the wisdom of going to a giant hot tub when we had spent most of the day pouring sweat and wishing for anything, literally anything but heat. Luckily, it cooled down at night, and there was a cold waterfall at the St. Theresa hot spring. We had a blast playing monkey in the middle with our frisbee, to the delight of local children, who I´m convinced thought they were witnessing alien technology every time we threw the thing. After the hot spring we head to an alternate campsite, very tired and ready to go to sleep. But... Carlos explains to us that since we will be waking up at 330 in the morning the next and final night, tonight is party night. Hooray? Yes. We manage to find some energy, drink a homemade mixed drink provided by the cooks, and have a birthday celebration for one of our number, complete with delicious cake. Later that night we go out to a bar in St. Theresa. The bar is completely empty, and is the seediest, dingiest, grossest bar I´ve ever seen. We have an absolute blast. We stay out until the heady hour of 1030, and end the night repeatedly toasting our crew, since they speak no english and that is all we can do.

Day 4
We awake the next morning at 630, shake off the cobwebs and stumble outside to a wonderful surprise. Due to anticipated hangovers (did you notice we stayed out until almost 11) our bags are to be carried by the truck today, and we just have to haul our own carcasses. We manage to refrain from kissing Javier and Carlos, and we begin our trek. Because of our last minute change of scenery for the hot springs, the path is a bit dull this morning. Mostly dirt road with little in the way of sightseeing. We lunch at a train station and hydroelectric dam. We are tired. Two of our number have aquired a stomach bug. Moral is a bit low. Not to worry, we´re only 2 hours away. Well, we set off, and eventually realize that their idea of two hours means (with all the waiting and various breaks) around 3 hours and change. Stiff upper lip and all, so we press on. We´re walking on railroad tracks and it is burning hot. Slowly some clouds roll in, providing release from the heat. Then it starts to dribble. This too, is refreshing. Then it starts to storm. Then the hail comes. All of a sudden I´m expecting an Incan Armageddon as we´re being pelted with various forms of H2O. We hole up in a shelter on the side of a railroad and man, we´re soaked and morale is really low. The storm passes over and we stagger into Aguas Caliendes, the end of the line and the site of the hostel we will be staying the night in. At this point we (particularly me) are almost radioactive with filth. I smell like Pigpen would if he was a garbage collector and moonlighted cleaning sewage lines. We wearily slump into our room and discover that reports of hot water showers are greatly exaggerated. It´s frigid. We sponge bathe as best we can and I pass out around 8. The universal hope is that the rain will not pick back up tomorrow, when we are at...

Day 5 - Maccu Picchu

We awake at 340 in the morning, a time when no human should ever have to wake up. We stumble downstairs, eat breakfast, and get in line for the buses. The whole reason we get up this early is that we intend to be first in line for tickets to climb Huayna Picchu, a mountain that overlooks Maccu Picchu. They only allow 400 people a day to climb, and the plan is for us to get tickets, have our guided tour, then climb the mountain. When we get in line for the bus, it looks good. However, some tourists have the idea that they only have to send one of their party to stand in line, and that belatedly 30 to 40 friends will role up and, after shaking the sleep out of their eyes around 5, will slip into line ahead of by now furious Salkantay trekkers who smell like fermented curry and are doing they´re best to burn holes in the backs of heads. This view is particularly popular with a near albino set of scandinavian monsters who are of the opinion that it is normal for men to wear scarves and dolce and gabbana eyewear and that the rules of queuing don´t apply to them. Seriously, were parents not reading this, much stronger language would be in order. We end up making it up to the line for Huayna Picchu about 50 people too late. No matter, after mentally entreating Obama to nuke Finland we head over to begin our tour of Maccu Picchu. It is simply remarkable. To keep it concise, ancient Quechua people figured out when the fall and spring equinoxes were, knew their latitude, made rocks whose four corners pointed in the exact compass rose, and, oh yeah, built an enormous stone city at the top of a mountain using - get this - no mortar. None. They just fit rocks together. I was utterly amazed. This is what people were capable of before modern television programming. After our tour Dave, Stretta, and I went first to the Sun Gate. The Sun Gate is a niche naturally carved out of the mountain line so named because, on the Spring Equinox, the sun rises directly through it and is visible through one of the two windows in the temple of the Sun in Maccu Picchu. (The other window comes into play - you guessed it - the day of the Fall Equinox. What an amazing people). The views are incredible, but I´m sure by this point you know that. Next we head to the Inca Bridge. This is a partial version of the Inca trail that is closed now because it has become overgrown and is suicidally dangerous. However, part of it is still open and we journey to this part now. It travels across the most sheer and massive cliff face I have ever seen. I´m no wimp about heights and I am a bit nervous. We snap pictures of us in front of neverending drops into valleys made hazy by distance and get the hell out of there. Thus ends our 5 day sojourn through the amazing Andes mountains. These have been the most beautiful sights and experiences of my life.

I know by now it must be frustrating to hear about these things but not see them. I promise pictures are forthcoming. We get home Sunday morning, and I´m sure that the vast majority of those reading this will see us shortly thereafter. We´ve loved our time here but miss so much about America (ice cubes, things actually working, english, prompt service, etc.) Thanks for reading along, and, except for pictures and possibly an addendum by Stretta or Dave, this will be our last blog post. Once again, hope to see many of you soon. For those of you who joined us in Chile, it is my sincere hope that we can figure out a way to stay in touch. Hopefully that will include trips to watch Georgia beat the tar out of various other football teams.

Matt Bailey