As our flight to Cusco from Lima took off, we were immediately rewarded with a breathtaking view of the Andes. Stark brown with mauve shadows in the clefts, the Andes looked strong yet strangely vulnerable. Now and then, a snow-covered peak stood in the distance—pristine and white among the dark slopes. I felt the magic of the mighty mountains stretching from Venezuela in the north to Chile in the south.
Our Peruvian adventure was primarily triggered by our desire to visit Machu Picchu, one of the world's seven wonders. But upon researching, we discovered that the country offered a variety of possibilities—from a stroll down Lima's aloof shoreline overlooking the Pacific to Huachachina—the American oasis—from the two-thousand-year-old Inca citadel of Cusco to the unbelievably colourful Rainbow Mountains. So, we selected what seemed manageable and landed in Lima.
Lima, the capital of Peru, had lots to offer, but through it all, the skies remained overcast. So, it was with slightly dampened spirits that we started for Cusco.
Our mood changed with the aforesaid ringside view of the Andes, where this travelogue started—because that was the point from which everything became bright and happy. The seat belt sign came on about an hour and a half later, and the aircraft zoomed closer to the ground. From above, I spotted an azure lake guarded by the mountains, and we landed at the quaint airport in Cusco.
When we saw videos of Cusco, tourists complained of shortness of breath while walking out of the airport, so we were wary, even after starting precautionary medicines. But our respiration seemed to be regular. Happy with relief, we stepped out. Cusco, with brilliant blue skies and crisp cold air, which comes with high altitude, worked on us and acted like a tonic, making all seem well. One could sense the reason the Inca worshipped the Sun.
Our guide, Alvira, started our initiation on the way to the hotel. Cusco was the capital of the Inca empire, the largest in America from the 12th to the 16th century till the Spanish conquest. It has become a major tourist destination, hosting over 2 million visitors annually. This was triggered after the scientific discovery of Machu Picchu by Hiram Bingham in 1911. It is now the jumping-off point for discovering many Incan sites and natural marvels.
The buildings were mostly made of rose-coloured stone and looked surreal against blue skies. The Sun was dazzling. That is all we could have hoped for and more.
Alvira made the Machu Picchu trip sound like a mission. "Tomorrow, you have to be ready at dawn. The coach will leave at 5.15 am. Do not have a heavy dinner. It makes the stomach require more oxygen, leaving less for your lungs. The shortness of breath due to the high altitude is a common problem with tourists," she cautioned us.
We were advised to sip Cacao Tea. It helps with the breathing. Cacao is different from Cocoa, which is used in making chocolates. The Cacao tree grows in the Andean highlands and has been used by the Inca people for centuries to help with respiration.
Our hotel was built on the ruins of an old convent called the Ruinas, and down the street stood the Santa Catalina Monastery. Despite the warnings to not exert ourselves and Alvira's sermon about our forthcoming trip, the evening was too fine to stay indoors. So, we headed out of the hotel by the Avenue Santa Catalina to the Plaza De Armas, which was the main square presided by the Cathedral of the Virgin of Assumption. However, it was wider and better proportioned than most other European cities because it was built over an Incan square where religious rites and festivals were conducted.
The vibe at the Square was lively, with snatches of music playing and lights twinkling at a distance in the hills that surround Cusco. People lounged in the park at the plaza's centre to enjoy the cold evening. Under the star-studded sky, we mingled with locals to make the most of the cool winter evening in mid-July.
The next morning, we were up before the first light for our coach to Machu Picchu that arrived sharp on time."Try to get some sleep, as it will take almost two hours to reach Ollayanta Tambo, from where we will take the train to the foothills of Machu Picchu," Paulo, our guide for the day, told us at the onset of our journey.
But sleep was out of the question. As our coach headed out of Cusco, the scenery changed. We ascended a mountainous road with beautifully preserved cottages and alpine farms. The path only went higher, finally opening up to the horizon. We had finally in the Andean highlands, where the wilderness of the Andes surrounded us until many miles. And bathed in the sun's saffron light, the mighty peak casted its gargantuan shadow on the fields. At a distance, higher peaks remained shrouded in mist and mystery.
The road ended at Ollyanta Tambo station. There are two train lines that cater to the foothills of Machu Picchu—Inca Rail and Peru Rail. We chose the Peru Rail. The train had a vista dome, allowing a 360-degree view of the beautiful valley through which it winds. In places, we had the sheer mountain wall on one side and a river flowing over the smooth stones polished over the centuries on the other. Having been amazed by the Amazon since childhood, seeing the forested slopes as the train made its way to the picture-perfect station of Aguas Calientes was a thrill in itself.
The actual ascent to the Lost City of the Incas begins from a quaint Peruvian hamlet. We went to the small village square, where an imposing statue of Pachachutek, the Inca Chieftain who had commissioned the building of Machu Picchu, stands. There was also a small Church at one end. Once again, I was struck by how the people here had assimilated both religions so simply.
The square, which doubled up as a waiting area, was milling with tourists jubilantly taking photos of the statue before embarking on their journey. After strolling around, we decided to wait by the Urubamba River for our local bus, which trailed the Andean Slopes and all the way to the gateway of Machu Picchu.
The river flowed through a deep gorge which divided the town. I was happy to spot a number of avocado trees in fruition, moistened by the river, oblivious to the masses of adventure seekers from all over the world.
After more than an hour-long wait, during which the authorities checked our passports and tickets, a dark green local bus trundled up. Running along the Urubamba, the bus set on the winding roads, and we reached the Santuario. From there, we moved on to Ruta Circuita 2, after getting our identities checked. This was the route that led to the mountain ledge from where one can see the postcard-image of the Machu Picchu.
With roughly hewn stones on the mountainside, the climb was more fit for trekkers than tourists. Now and then, I stopped—on the pretext of taking photographs to save me the embarrassment, but our guide stayed with me as I was lagging; I guessed the real reason: he had probably seen too many tourists do the same."Look, you can see the terraces now," he told me kindly as I stopped for one more time. But the view made me go on.
As I climbed the final cliff, the whole vista opened up to white limestone buildings on the emerald green grass below, with terraces climbing down in neat layers, and dark brooding forested peaks all around. The sight was surreal.
Paulo pointed out to Machu Picchu—this was a much taller peak behind us far away to the left. We could see the stone Inca trails on the sides of the peak, which looked like a zig-zag line cutting through the foliage.
Machu Picchu means “Old Mountain.” Photographs of Machu Picchu show a dark mountain peak standing guard, which I assumed was called by the same name. But Paulo corrected me, saying this peak was Wayne Picchu, which translates to "Young Mountain" in Quechua.
It is a strange story of lost and found. American explorer Hiram Bingham was searching for Vilcabamba, the last capital of the Neo Inca state in the 16th century, after the fall of Cusco to the Spanish. Francis Pizarro and his band of 170 Spanish conquistadors conquered the mighty 70000 strong Inca army through superior weapons, cunning and smallpox. Inca people were not exposed to the disease and lacked immunity to this deadly scourge. Later, this last bastion of the Incas also fell to the conquistadors; it was abandoned and its location forgotten. However, the city Hiram Bingham stumbled upon had no known name, so Hiram Bingham called it Machu Picchu after the peak had dominated the area. Bingham's chance discovery made Machu Picchu famous as the Lost City of the Inca Empire.
Imbibing all this, we gazed at the surrounding dark green slopes covered by the Amazon forest—some blue in the distance, while the remnants of the city lay at our feet, guarded by Wayna Picchu. It was a fantastic sight—with sights of terraces for cultivation and a neat citadel made of enormous dry stones atop a mountain miles away from everywhere, guarded by forested peaks. How the Inca people got these heavy stones atop these steep slopes in the 15th century is a mystery.
We moved among the old walls and temples as Paulo told us about the probable uses of the structures. Probable, because the Inca had no written language—Quechua has been handed down generations as spoken.
The site was commissioned as a summer residence of the royal family in the 15th century. We saw the famous Temple of Three Windows and the Altar of the Condor, where human sacrifices were made, probably of the retainers to accompany the deceased nobles in the afterlife.
One of our fellow tourists mentioned the mystery of the majority of the skeletons unearthed from this site being of women. "That is another myth," Paulo refuted promptly. "The skeletons were so small that, initially, it was thought that they were of women. But the Inca were small-built. And later carbon dating proved that the skeletal remains were of men and women alike," he explained.
We wandered through the ruins of temples and royal quarters. It was a unique feeling to watch them in-person. Despite of the other tourists, guides, and travel videos we had watched earlier, being there was an otherworldly experience. Taking a final look, we descended from the site and headed back on a bus. The Urubamba flowing along, as if bidding goodbye.
Back at Aguas Calientes, the vibe was happy but quieter than the morning. The tourists had completed the ascent and were happy, but most were lost in their memories. Four people in our group could not reach the top due to respiratory issues and were waiting for us to hear their stories. We did this over a late lunch of pumpkin soup, a salad of red beans and potatoes, pasta, and bread dipped in olive oil.
Our hearts were full of the sights and stories of the day as we boarded the train journey back to Cusco. The tall peaks and jungles were lost in the gathering dusk. The Peru Rail staff made the ride memorable by organising an impromptu party for us in their luxurious saloon car. The performers danced to a live band, with a fashion show thrown in. The train rushed through the dark Amazon night with memories of the city lost for over a thousand years.