Machu Picchu Camino Inca Trail Cuzco Peru 1996
In the failing sunlight, we strolled down to the control point to meet Salous and the others. On arrival, he informed us that the road to Aguas Calientes had been blocked at seven points by a massive landslide. As he announced it, the inky sky burst open in a violent storm, and rucksacks rustled as we rummaged inside for our waterproofs. The group dispersed into stone shelters, while other tourists scurried around in outrageously coloured sou'westers searching for cover. We strolled across to the restaurant, where we were thrown out an hour later having drained several expensive cups of coffee. At least during the storm they cancelled the helicopter rides.
Under a wretched sky we waited by the veranda of the restaurant, partially sheltered from the swirling wind and rain. Salous instructed us to be ready at two o' clock as the police were due to reopen the path down after specialists had prescribed a course of high explosive. The descent started as scheduled and the muddy path down was as treacherous as any I had seen. The mountainside wound down through grey limestone with tight hairpin bends of mud and clay. After five minutes exertion, my brow was dripping and the vein in the side of my forehead pulsated wildly. The steam was rising from the forest floor and we remarked that we could all but touch the air we breathed. The twisting and turning path with its slippery outlook was of great bearing. Already Tony had fallen heavily and needed assistance in coming down. Nobody knew how many more casualties the day would claim.
The road below was still closed while they worked at clearing the landslide. From mid-way, however, it was possible to catch a bus to Aguas Calientes and a small party selected this sensible option. Salous led us into a capacious but dimly-lit restaurant which bulged at the seams as travel-weary, soil-stained travellers slumped into their seats and struggled to read the menu in the half-light. After an extended delay where we were beseiged by children selling the usual bric-à-brac, lunch was excellent; the group was keen on rice, fish and chicken, not that there were many alternatives in that extraordinary little town.
From Aguas Calientes, we planned to catch the train back towards Cuzco, and during lunch Salous described the nuances of Peruvian commuter etiquette. First of all, the train had only four carriages, and for reasons of proximity, he would prefer it if we all shared the same one. The second instruction, rather like a referee to a boxer was to protect ourselves at all times, and not to worry too much if we were to injure a fellow journeyman. Thirdly, if and when we got on the train, we should be careful with our belongings as professional thieves make an excellent living, living off the backs of careless tourists.
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