15th April 2022

‘It’s 8kg, the limit is 6kg. You’ll have to find another place to put the extra 2kg’, said the lead porter. 

Words I did not want to hear at Km82, aka the starting point of the Inca Trail. 

We’d arrived minutes earlier, just after 9am, with the rest of the group – all 13 trekkers. Sleeping bags, air mattresses and trekking poles were being handed out (to those who had rented from the company), and we all proceeded to pack our duffel bags.

We had been given a strict warning about our luggage – we each had a duffel bag, which would be carried by a porter on the trek, and could weigh max 6kg. ( Due to regulations, porters are only allowed to carry max 25k. The packages are weighed at the start of the trek. In years gone by, they would carry upwards of 40-50kilos! I do not know how). We had been told at orientation, the afternoon before, that the sleeping bag and air mattress weighed 3.5kg, so we had 2.5kg to play with. I clearly hadn’t been paying attention, or my Nigerian packing skills had come into play (you know, adding that one more little thing that I almost definitely…probably…possibly…might.. need on the trek), and I found myself with more kilos than I knew what to do with.

I stared at my selection of snacks – oreos, plantain chips, biscuits, my jumper, my jacket, my sandals, my sleeping bag liner…which of these was expendable? They all seemed pretty indispensable so I began to stuff them into my day bag. (Elias, our second guide, was kind enough to put a couple of items in his bag) However I ended up with a day bag that weighed 4 or 5kg. (Every other sensible trekker’s weighed 2kg or less). Not. A. Good. Start. 

We lined up to go through the checkpoint at the visitors centre-you had to show your passport, walked a few metres past the hall, through a wire fence and gate, and then the views opened up in front of us. It was a perfectly beautiful day, sunny with blue skies and the clouds in sight were brilliant white and only served to make the views more picture perfect.  We stopped to take a picture at the famous trail sign, and began the trek. 

The guides set the pace those first couple of hours, which all of the group kept up with. We all marvelled at the beauty around us, walking along the south bank of the River Urubamba – the river flowing through valleys created by soaring mountains, including the snow-peaked Mount Veronica in the distance; a wide range of vegetation like cacti, and a smattering of Inca ruins along the bank.   Our path was dotted with shops selling refreshments, small villages with collections of houses  that had children playing in front of them or adults sitting and chatting. It was clearly a well used transport route – traders with donkeys laden with goods, and the odd motorcycle went past us. Odi, our head guide, told us this would be the case on the first day but subsequent days we would be limited to seeing mostly only other trekkers. 

I enjoyed those first few hours. I had woken up that morning, raring to go. I think I’d gotten fed up with worrying about the trek/altitude sickness and just wanted to get it started. And actually once we got going, the views, coupled with all the little points of interest along the way meant time flew past really quickly. However, although we were only at 2750m or 9000ft, I did start to feel the impact of the altitude on my breathing – noticing I was breathing much more rapidly than expected for that level of exertion. (Altitude sickness can become present at heights beyond 2500m).

We made frequent stops for breaks. At one of those stops, while posing for pictures, my backpack fell through a gap in the bench…down the mountain!  My heart leapt into my throat, as I had visions of my life (it held my passport, credit cards, all my cash) going down the mountainside. In a stroke of luck, it got caught in a nest of trees and brambles, just out of view. Elias made an attempt to grab it, while leaning over the bench…it moved further downhill, and I could barely catch my breath. More visions of me having to give up on the trek as everything I owned (admittedly a slight exaggeration, but it did feel that acute) flowed down the river. He scaled the bank, and using a pair of trekking poles, was able to grab one of the straps and pull the bag towards him. Oh my goodness, the relief! It was a reminder of how quickly things could change, in the blink of an eye. I really don’t know what I would have done had I lost my backpack. 

We continued on for about 20 minutes and stopped for ‘story time’, our backdrop the delicate lines denoting terraces of another Inca ruin, Llactapata. Odi told us more about the ruins that dot the trail. The Inca kingdom was spread across Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, Bolivia, Argentina and Chile and there were 4 cardinal roads that led to the capital, Cusco, covering about 40000 km.The roads were obviously used to transport people and goods but also for communication. They had runners, incredibly fit young men,  that would relay messages between towns/villages and could cover distances of up to 200km per day. In addition to the villages that dotted the routes, there were also tambos (relay and rest stations) for these runners.

He said that there was nothing inherently special about Macchu Picchu i.e. it was a village like many others (although archaeologists think it may have been constructed as an estate for an emperor)…its fame is down to the media (and more recently the internet and social media). There are other equally preserved Inca ruins that are not as well- known, spread across the region. He named a couple of other ruins, and I have to confess I can’t remember what they were called. We acknowledged that we too had fallen victim to this – none of us would have signed up for the trek were it not for the fame of the Machu Picchu. It was a somewhat sobering thought. (I reflect on this topic, the confluence of social media, internet and tourism in a different blog). 

Thirty minutes later, about half past 1, we arrived at our lunch site, Tarayoc. It was a very scenic little setting. It held lunch tents for a number of different groups but each in its own little camp clearing, making you feel as if yours was the only group in the area. As you arrive at the lunch site, the porters welcome you with a round of applause. My first emotion was embarrassment, ‘I do not want to be the centre of attention, thank you very much’. Next was pride, ‘Whoop, whoop, I did it, first half-day gone!’. On subsequent occasions, I always felt like I should be the one clapping for the porters. Getting to see/learn a little bit about  the operation behind the trek, and the sheer amount of work that the porters do to make the trek easier for us, they were the heroes and deserved all of the applause. We all felt that way. 

We were offered drinks on arrival. There was a wash stand (a bucket with a spout) and handwash. The tent was set up with camp tables and chairs. We had noodle soup for starters and rice with fish cakes for mains.  During all four days of the trek, the food was always well presented and delicious. I  don’t know how they did it, but the chefs worked wonders with the limited equipment available to them, including whipping up a cake on our last day! We had a 20-minute rest after lunch and set off once again. 

This was the difficult part of the day’s trek, as we began an ascent to our campsite in Huayllabamba or Wayllabama, 3030m or 9940ft. It was still a fairly wide path, alternating flat surfaces with steps. We were encouraged to go at our pace and so the group formed clusters, with really fast trekkers ahead and us slow pokes at the back.  I was in the bottom third of the group, and had to remind myself it was not a race. 

I remember sweltering in the heat, my face looked very shiny in pictures and videos.  I’m pretty sure I got at least 2 shades darker in the space of those few hours – sun screen and my really ugly hat not doing as much as I expected. I’d tried to find an umbrella the day before, desperate for some protection from the sun.  We’d bought one at the market in Ollaytantambo, and it fell apart on my first attempt to use it. I think Odi was bemused at the thought of my holding an umbrella while doing the trek. He was right, it would’ve been most impractical. The hat was much more practical, but really terrible fashion. In fact, all 4 days were an affront to my sense of fashion. However the heat was no joke and in fact Franzi fell ill when we arrived at the lunch camp, due to the effects of the heat. 

It took just over 90minutes to get to camp. On arrival, we got clapped in. And found our tents all set up, our duffel bags laid out in orderly fashion.  There was a toilet block with flushing toilets (and toilet paper! – a luxury not often found in bathrooms in some South American countries), sinks with hand wash, and showers. It was as nice as any bathroom you’d find in a city, and definitely the nicest bathroom of the trek. 

 We had a few minutes to freshen up and were called to a meeting where we all (porters and trekkers) introduced ourselves to each other.  I thought it lovely that we got to learn a little about the porters – they told us their names, ages, how long they had worked for the company, marital status,  family etc. A couple of porters were also training to become guides – it was good to see evidence of career progression for the young ones. One of the cheeky older porters advertised for a new girlfriend! We did the same – our little introduction to them, and to each other. I introduced myself in Spanish, and felt really pleased with myself. The porters were all Quechan, I believe, and only a handful spoke Spanish. They all seemed to enjoy working for G adventures, and their work outfits – purple tops, black sweaters, grey trousers and proper hiking shoes were in stark contrast to some companies whose porters wore slippers on the trek (clearly they were required to provide their own clothing). 

Afterwards, we had snacks – crackers with a selection of jam, butter and teas. And an hour later, a delicious dinner. We always had snacks and then dinner in the evenings. In fact, I ate more food per day,  on the trek, than I had been eating in Lima or Cusco.

I was absolutely shattered at the end of the day, practically falling asleep before dinner arrived. After dinner, the guides went over the plan for the next day. They had a strict rule not to talk about the next day’s trek until after dinner, perhaps to minimise  anxiety within the group. I was too tired to worry about the next day and excused myself after the briefing. I went to my tent and changed into my pyjamas for the trip – a sports bra and underwear. I was grateful for my sleeping bag liner, as I felt quite comfortable in the rented sleeping bag, and was asleep by 8pm. 

Total trek time: roughly 4.5 – 5hrs (I think 5-7hrs is often quoted)

Distance covered: 7.5miles (12km)

Elevation gain: 280m

*Please note figures are all approximations, do not take them as gospel. I failed to keep notes at the start of the trek*