At 6am the owners of the hostal decided that they needed to rearrange some furniture. Having fallen into a moderate coma after my night-shift on the bike I don´t appreciate it but this seems to be the norm throughout South America. Regardless of how much the room cost, there is a free-for-all of noise come dawn.

After half an hour I can peel myself up and thankfully the promised hot water is more than the standard trickle. I clean and bandage my knee and we hop into a coillective taxi-van to catch a ride the half hour to a hydroelectric station which marks the end of the road. I was going to take the bike but unsure of the security situation for a lone motorcycle I leave it in the hostel. From the hydroelectric station I can catch the half hour ride for $8 or walk up to the town of Aguas Calientes along the railway track. We make for the railway tracks and a simple track through the forest. There is one benefit of this route, one train track in low use means the jungle is relatively untouched and meandering along the river is very nice. The foliage is a strange mix of semi-jungle with some tall trees and very green shrubs but also some altiplano style tussocks and cacti.

Two and a half hours later I make it to Aguas Calientes. I don´t like the place. The simple means of existence here is tourism, signs are in english and restaurants charge service which is a misnomer indeed in Peru. From here the site is a half-hour climb by bus or presumably a walk of several hours. I cave and fork out $6.50 for the bus. Air-conditioned, modern Mercedes Benz machinery, these buses need to be transported in to Aguas Calientes by the train. It´s a reminder that I am heading to one of the premiere sites of world tourism.

I always find anticipated tourist zones a bit of an anti-climax. Well-publicised, with all the best photos on ready display, it seems you can read about the best parts. I must give Macchu Picchu its due however- it is genuinely a marvel of the ancient world. The quality of construction, ability of the Incas to incorporate drainage, use of terracing to make cultivation possible and ability to place large rocks with precision is impressive, but I was most struck by the surrounding countryside. The jewel of the Inca empire, this great city has been perched on top of a mountain flanked by a gorge at least 600 metres below with treacherous access through Inca trails. The surrounding mountains are simply incredible, giant rocks that continue climbing into the clouds. The very inaccessability of the site and the grandeur of the construction just goes to show what men will do to demonstrate their superiority.

By mid day I´m tired and listen to a few passing guides´ explanations of the archeological significance to the city. I don´t find the tours particularly interesting but do wish I had read up on the site before coming here. By 3pm we are ready to leave and start walking down the hill. About 3.30pm it rains heavily. There´s no shelter and the buses won´t stop to give us a lift down the hill so we get wet. It is not cold, being so close to the equator, but nor is it warm and I am worried about getting back to the hydroelectric station before nighfall. Already tired, having walked all day, I now just want to get food and some rest. The descent takes a full hour before we are back at the train track and we have a race to make it to the station. Teresa´s sand shoes aren´t up to the job and she hurts her foot about an hour from the station. Darkness falls just as we reach the end of the line, cold and hungry.

We arrive but there are no transports available for Santa Teresa. There are no phones either. This is not good. We ask the security guard at the gate to the power station. ¨No, there is no one here after 3.30pm. On Sundays there is a night train at 10.30pm, sometimes the vans come then, but it is not certain.¨ Hmmm, not good. This cheap route to Macchu Picchu looks to have some serious drawbacks. With the sun gone, it is cold and I have no more than my jacket and a tshirt, not enough. We ask around the sparse stores and ascertain that yes, there is a night train and there are always transports back to Santa Teresa. We will just have to wait 3 and a half hours. The walk is 2 hours but Teresa isn´t able to walk that far, having pulled up lame some half hour ago. There are two restaurants and we go to the friendliest. They lend Teresa a blanket and cook us up a meal of thin steak, with typical rice, french fries and a token slice of tomato. It´s delicious and I demolish it in no time. How much was that señora? 4 soles, or $1.30. So we order a second each and are entertained by the couple´s young daughter who likes to sit and stare at us. The television is on and I watch Peru get eliminated from the Copa de America (the Americas Cup that most of America cares about) by Argentina. I can´t sleep on the plastic seats and am cold and, moderately miserable. Still, not bad considering our circumstances.

Eventually the vans come, and we get to Santa Teresa about 11.30. Exhausted we knock on the door but the owners live elsewhere we discover. Thankfully a traveller is up and opens the door. Unfortunately our beds have been let out in our absence. At this point I am about ready to cry. Thankfully there are some Italian backpackers who have a spare bed in their room and I collapse into it and don´t move until my next 6am wake-up committee.

Posted on Sunday, July 15th, 2007 at 4:04 pm in Josh's Journal.
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