Huayna Hike a Mountain?

[Apologies for the delay in posting. Lot to unpack yesterday, and I decide to split it into two parts, if only because the original post would've made Tolstoy look succinct. Below is Machu Picchu Part Uno, in which Machu Picchu is barely mentioned but Ellen's griping about stairs is.]

Wednesday, December 17th - Part 1

Today's the day! The sun is shining, our lunches packed, and we only over slept our 5am alarm by 45 minutes. Which, in Ellen-years, is like 5 minutes.

Bussing up the Mountain

There are two ways to get up to Machu Picchu: via government run bus shuttles or on your own two feet, because, dammit, the Inca didn't have no baby-coddling lazy ass machinery to help them make the trek. They had to earn their way up the mountain.

We took the bus.

So far so good, weather's holding up, and only a temporary detour when we realized we were standing in line for the local school bus. My pre-coffee brain was having a hard time processing the oddity that everyone heading to Machu Picchu today seemed to be seven years old and in matching outfits. 

One long, windy, not-full-of-school-children bus ride later, we make it to the gates of MACHU PICCHU, where I am immediately impressed with how polite and non confrontational the guide-hawkers are. Either that, or JA and I have sufficiently degraded in appearance to Full Fledged Bum rivaling that of The Dude, an option I am not discounting.

(I may or may not be wearing an identical sweater.)

Attire

I'm going to take a moment real quick to set the stage so you have a complete mental picture. Ever since I arrived here, I have been in love with these multicolored tablecloths women are using as back-satchels to carry large items. Now, one cannot simply buy a tablecloth and wrap it around one's neck in a multicultural insult/Nacho Libre-esque homage, so since day one I have been on the hunt for a large item of which I could carry, be a random baby, a bushel of corn, or a large Incan clay pot artifact I am trying to smuggle out of the country.

(No sir, nothing to declare.)

Finally, today, upon realizing I had no suitable day hiking bag for water, snacks, and drug smuggling, I finally had to opportunity to attempt the blanket bag. Alas, I had no blanket but that's why pashminas are god's gift to traveling women. What else can double as a blanket, pillow, bag, umbrella, head scarf, tent, and even towel if one hypothetically, say, were to forget to bring one?

(Going native.)

Ready to hit the trail, improvised bag and all.

Huayna Picchu

It's a little past 7am at this point, and we have a mission. Run through the Machu Picchu ruins as fast as we can to get to Huayna Picchu, the overlooking mountain directly adjacent the ruins which has a max capacity of 400 visitors a day and limited entrance times. All because they're trying to "preserve their heritage" and "protect the ancient trail." Pshh, lame.

Not for the faint of heart, this towering peak rises an extra 1,000 feet above Machu Picchu and offers some of the best views of the surrounding valley, as well as the opportunity to get the default profile picture that everyone posts post-Peru trip that simultaneously shows your adventurous travel affinity, your non-Western cultural awareness, and laid-back but mild-risk-taking side, hitting the trifecta of desired profile pic traits.

(Bonus points if it includes native children you're saving.)

Experiencing only minor traffic jams, we made it in time!

(Stand right, walk left, buddy.)

The Hike

TripAdvisor, Lonely Planet, et al describe this hike as for the physically fit but enjoyable, offering unsurmountable views of the Machu Picchu and the surrounding areas. What they failed to describe was the excruciating pain that burns throughout your entire body, as you immediately regret the cheese-coated sandwich you indulged in the night before, as well as every morning for the last 6 years that you hit snooze on your alarm, lying to yourself again and again by promising "Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll go to the gym."

(I'm storing up energy.)

Oftentimes climbing hand over foot, pure pride pushes me onwards, using the burning feeling of unjustified superiority as fuel every time I overtook the passed out bodies of the more physically fit hikers that littered the ascent. 

(Suckers.)

Well, pride and the occasional clucking noise JA would make whenever he thought I was chickening out and slowing down. After sweating out the equivalent of Fat Tony taking a poly, we finally summit--surpassed by no one I might add--to the breathtaking view of Machu Picchu and the surrounding valley.

(Okay, got the pic, now we can go home.)

Rocky theme music ensues.

The People

One of the coolest parts of this hike, beyond the no small fact that I CONQUERED THE MOUNTAIN, was hearing the wealth of languages spoken on the trail. Spanish, French, Arabic, Russian, Estonian, Portuguese, German, Hungarian (I think?), Chinese, Japanese, maybe Hebrew, English (UK, Aussie and US versions), as well as several others I couldn't immediately identify. And in true Tower of Babel style, we were all milling up and down the mountain in a general state of camaraderie and mindless confusion before dispersing on our separate ways.

In general though, people were very nice. There's nothing quite like the common bond of sheer exhaustion and mutual accomplishment to transcend all language barriers. That, and mutual hatred for the guy who sat on the peak of the tallest point of the mountain for 30+ minutes, telling everyone else to perform explicit sexual activities to themselves should anyone else try to join him on the point. Luckily, miming pushing someone off a mountain translates universally in all sign language.

(As does actually playing it out, surprisingly.)

We'll end today's post here, and I'll pick up the rest of the adventure in the next post. Stay tuned for Ellen Forgets That Climbing Down Means Climbing Up, Ellen Finally Describes Machu Picchu, and Ellen After Many Pitfalls Finally Gets to Eat Alpaca.

(But not you. You're cute.)