Machu Picchu Camino Inca Trail Cuzco Peru 1996
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A short drive through high-hedged fields of maize brought us to two concrete shacks and a narrow, wooden foot bridge - the start of the Inca Trail. We unloaded our rucksacks from the roof-rack and carefully prepared ourselves for the assault on Machu Picchu. Hats, sunglasses and sun-block were checked before last minute alterations to rucksacks, sleeping bags and climbing boots. Expectation filled the air as we milled around the paddock like race horses before the Grand National. Leaning against a gatepost was SJ, the breeze ruffled through her short blonde hair. Her left knee was trussed in a white surgical brace, her face a picture of apprehension. "Will you be OK in that contraption?" I enquired. She didn't answer out loud, but reading her lips, I thought she said, "Shut up." |
Under the shade of his floppy sun hat, our multi-lingual Cuzqueno guide Salous addressed us with cheeky and confident ease: "What a way to start the new year boys and girls. A four day trek to Machu Picchu, a city lost in the mountains and jungles of southern Peru for over four hundred years. Since its discovery in 1911 by American archaeologist Hiram Bingham, many have speculated about the purpose of this remarkable Inca site. Even now after 85 years of study, there are no definitive answers - but seeing, at least is believing. I'm sure this event will be the highlight of your journey. Only a four day trek separates you from a vision of ancient civilisation and the experience of a lifetime. We are currently in the Urubamba valley - the sacred valley of the Incas. For centuries this river has provided water via a complex system of terraces and irrigation channels.....
Lead by Salous, we set off along a rocky trail as the sun peaked in a clear blue sky. Salous had already sent his young porters off ahead to make a start at preparing lunch. The boys were like peas from a pod - pinched faces, bandy-legged, slightly framed and all had stooping shoulders. They ran the treacherous paths either barefoot or in sandals, each carrying a load of tents, food, primus stoves, cooking pots and utensils. The gear was tied in the traditional lliclla, a rectangular cotton cloth patterned with Inca designs. Some of the boys had worked in the valley since the age of seven. "How often do they get injured?" I asked Salous. Emphatically, albeit with raised eyebrows, he replied "Never!" and I refused to believe him. The answer was too easily found and too easily dismissed as he stood there in a brand new pair of Gore-tex boots. Unemployment ran high like the mountains, and the job of porter was a necessary and honourable occupation where each boy earned every penny.
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The welfare of the porters aside, my main concern was finding sufficient quantities of fresh water along the trail, but my fear was soon allayed when hungry-looking toddlers appeared from nowhere, carrying bottles of orange juice, Sprite and mineral water. They had cheerful, chap-cheeked faces and made good trade with the passing tourists. |
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