So now you're probably wondering how I got lost. Well, to tell you the truth, I'm really not sure how it happened and until Brent found me, I didn't realize I was lost. Sure, I knew it had been awhile since I'd seen any of the 15 other people in my group but I was making all kinds of friends on the trail so I didn't feel all that lonely.
Anyway, back to the story...we were on our second day of hiking which just happened to be the toughest day, up and over Dead Woman's Pass. (Maybe someone did get lost before me after all. :o)) We had started walking at 6:30 that morning and had already had one little break and I was told then that the next stop would be in a little over an hour. And, just like any good hiker, I checked my watch, and headed off into the high jungle. At that point, I was thinking, "I've got an hour; then look for the little SAS guy with the flag..." It was a good thought.
At one point, I walked by an area where it looked like most every group had stopped to take a break and I looked around a bit but didn't see a SAS flag and I checked my handy-dandy wristwatch and it said I still had 30 minutes to go, so I continued on up the path. When my hour of walking came and went with no sign of a flag or anyone in my group I though, "Gee, I must be walking really slow today, how did everyone pass me?" So, I continued up the mountain, taking my time to stop and look around and stare in awe of the beautiful scenery, to take pictures, sip some water, and to chat with my fellow hikers. I was having a good day.
It wasn't until I reached the top of Dead Woman's Pass that I started thinking something was wrong. There were people around and I even saw some friendly faces. When you're traveling, you often are on the same tours and since I'd already done a city tour and a Sacred Valley tour I had already made several friends in the Cusco area. At one point, I looked down the path which led down the other side of the mountain and thought, "Maybe I'm not going the right direction but no, there are only two...the way I came from and this way, so this has to be it." But there weren't any people on the trail and from where I was standing; I could see a long, long, long way down the valley.
But still, there weren't any people. 200 hundred tourists walk the Inca trail every day and 300 porters. That's a lot of people on one trail or in my case, the direction in which I was looking...and still, no people. Strange. So, I ended up going back to the very top of the mountain and looking around some more trying to look like I knew what I was doing. But it was really windy and getting cold so I thought, "What the heck! They must have gotten way ahead of me somehow." So, I turned to go down the mountain.
I had only gotten about 20 or 30 feet down one of the steepest parts of the trail when I heard "Katie!!!" And I turned around to see my Australian friend and tent-mate, Brent. I quickly returned to the top and was about to ask him where everyone was when he asked "Where in the heck have you been? I've been practically running up the mountain looking for you!" "Oh! Holy heck!" was the only thing I could think to say. He then radioed back to Carlos and Alvaro to tell them that he had found me. Of course, when everyone else who was chilling at the top heard him say "I found her." That got everyone's attention. (A little like the time when the boy followed me out of the bathroom saying "You DO realize that you were in the BOYS bathroom, right?!?" Yes, thank you...I think I've got it now. --For the record, I didn't see a sign and there wasn't a soul in the bathroom when I went in.)
After being told by Carlos to make sure not to blow the next stop (in both Spanish and English), Brent and I headed off down the mountain in search of camp site #17 which was supposed to be an hour and a half hike down to the valley. Needless to say, we arrived much earlier than everyone else...almost two hours earlier. The one good thing about arriving early was that we got dibs on the tent for the night...J3 - not sure what the J stood for but the 3 was definitely for 3rd wheel which is how Brent and I referred to each other as we were the only two without a friend or significant other. By the way, J3 was perfect for us not just because of the name...it also didn't leak. We were blessed with four days of gorgeous sunshine and two nights of very heavy rain. Some of our group members weren't so lucky and all their belongings got soaked. Needless to say, we didn't give out our number and were on the verge of saying that our tent did leak so no one would try to steal it from us. Leakless tents are a hot commodity on rainy nights.
Of course, there is a reason why Machu Picchu is one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It's because it really is this amazing, mystical, and spiritual place. The entire journey is that way really, Machu Picchu is just like the icing on the cake. The clouds that morning, just like the other other days, moved in and out mysteriously. It really is a test of patience because if you wait long enough the clouds will disappear leaving you with this spectacular view and just as quickly would hide what you had hiked almost 50 km to see, all in a matter of seconds.
We arrived at the Sun Gate early in the morning after hiking a little over 7 km through a dense rain forest. I know one thing, the people who take those amazing, 'I look like I'm a model' photos in front of Machu Picchu, didn't hike the 7 km to get there that morning. It was absolutely hot and humid and I looked nothing close to pretty. And in fact, no one did, and even worse, everyone stunk. Some worse than others (okay, a LOT worse than others) but I'm sure there wasn't one person who's going to look at that picture and say, "Gee, I was lookin' good that day."
After a three hour tour around Machu Picchu several of us took off for Wayna Picchu, the mountain that you always see in the famous photos. Maybe I should re-phrase that...it's the steep mountain that you always see in the famous photos. It was worth the 40 minute hike to the top though. What a view! On the way up, a guy said that you haven't actually experienced Wayna Picchu until you've been stung by a wasp, to which I though..."Ugh! That doesn't sound like fun at all." When we got to the top, I understood what he meant. There were hundreds of wasps, black ones. Brent and I did stay long enough to take some pictures and eat a Twix. And I'm happy to report that neither of us suffered anything other than sore muscles.
On the way down, we saw a guy who was clinging onto the mountain for dear life, body completely against the side of the mountain, body trembling, while his friends were trying to coax him down by saying "Only three more steps, you're almost there." The thing they forgot to tell him was that that was only to the next terrace. He still had who knows how many steps left to get to the bottom, as he was probably only 10 meters from the top. I have no idea how that guy (or if) he made it down on his own. It was incredibly steep, the entire way, up and down, with a narrow path and even narrower steps. But the view...it was definitely worth the trip.
A gentleman on the train back to Ollaytaytamba asked me if I would do it again. My answer, there are some things that you just shouldn't do again because they were so perfect the first time. And doing it again would probably ruin it. The weather was perfect, the people in my group (all Americans and Australians) were amazing people, the food was incredible, our guides were friendly, knowledgeable, and fun, and as I said, the entire place is absolutely mystical. So, no. I don't need to do it again, it couldn't have been more perfect just the way it was.
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