Writing this blog article after nearly four years of waiting seems strange to me. How naïve and confused I was, how terrified and utterly thrilled at the same time. I knew if I didn’t do this for myself then I was ignoring everything my very core of being was begging me to do.
I had read as much as I could about traveling to Peru, all the things to be afraid of were lined up in my head. I decided I would skip Lima, as cities are dangerous and scary. I had read so many terrifying accounts of things that could happen there so I opted to fly straight from Lima to Cusco and begin my journey there.
At this point in my life I had been very thin on money, I had very little to spare to make this trip work so I was constantly finding ways around spending money. One major way had been to figure out how to get to Aguas Calientes (the last town and entrance to Machu Picchu) without paying the expensive train ticket.
I traveled to Ollantaytambo, a town often ignored, but has incredible ruins itself where I had read on a blog that I could get a taxi to mile marker 18. From there you could skirt the guards and hike eighteen miles to the end of the train path and you would be in Aguas Calientes. It seemed easy enough to me and I read I was supposed to go to the city square the next morning where I could catch a taxi there. In hindsight, I should have checked when that certain blog post was written.
After figuring out my plans, I still had a full day in Ollantaytambo. I asked the lady running the hostel what I should do. She suggested some ruins everyone visits but told me about some alternative ones that cost no money and were often skipped by most tourists. Of course my cheap self decided that was a better adventure and went for it.
I walked the streets following her directions, lefts and rights until I happened upon a small sign with the ruins’ name on it. Following the arrow, I saw the trail she talked about and was fascinated to be all alone wandering these ruins. It was then I took a seat, overlooking the town, seeing the other crowded ruins. And I cried.
I cried as I sat in utter amazement of what my life had become. There had been moments where I had strongly doubted my desire to exist, where I had come so close to being nothing more. But in that moment, staring at this strange civilization, realizing I was living the dream of my childhood, filled me with awe of the great unknowns of life. How was I here?
I cried as it down-poured on me. I cried as I wandered some more, feeling myself fill with joy and relief with each step. I got a little overzealous though, when I saw the trail had been washed out and decided to climb along it anyway.
It was right then when reality smacked me in the face as I slipped and skidded a bit down the hillside and smacked my hand right into a small cactus. The little spines had quite the kick to them and after pulling them out of my very sore hand I placed them back near the cactus feeling a bit bad that I almost knocked it over.
After that my moment was over, I began making my way down and back to the hostel. A few minutes of walking, I realized my hand was swelling and turning purple. I have no idea what caused my hand to swell up and turn purple but the woman at the hostel just laughed and rubbed some balm on it and it went down a few hours later.
The next morning I woke up bright and early, determined to make the eighteen mile hike to the next town. I went straight to the city center and everyone can assume what happened next. There wasn’t a single taxi driver who knew what I was talking about.
I tried for several hours but knowing the sun was getting higher and I wouldn’t have much more time to hike anyway I began to search for another way. The only other way with my time frame of arriving that day would be the expensive train. When I say expensive, it was around USD 80 which was a massive hit to my budget for the trip.
With no other options but to take it, I begrudgingly paid the fare and loaded up on the next train. The train ride was absolutely lovely, breathtaking views and I don’t regret spending that money, as the train included large glass windows to view the mysterious valleys I passed. But to those solo travelers out there, they will be able to understand why it ended up being equally difficult.
Most of the people in the cabin of the train were families making a trip to Machu Picchu. As they oohed and awed at the sites around them and excitedly spoke about their trip, I sat in a seat completely alone with my thoughts. I would never take back the incredible experiences I had alone but there is something different about sharing these unique moments with another person, eventually someone to reminisce with.
But I listened with a smile and enjoyed the time of relaxation.
There are two ways to get to Machu Picchu from Aguas Calientes. The most common way is by bus. The other way that is still quite populated is by hiking/walking up a long set of stairs.
I wanted to enter Machu Picchu as early as I could and to do that, hiking was my best option. I was geared to go and carried my stuff on my back as soon as I woke up at 3:00am. I headed along the road that I desperately hoped would lead me to the right place. I really was just following two dudes walking off that way carrying hiking gear. I soon passed the bus lines where people were already lined up and camping out. It wasn’t long before I happened upon my line.
To get to the hike, you have to cross a bridge which is manned by some guards. They open it, I believe an hour, before the buses start and you have to show your passport and sign in to be allowed to pass. I wasn’t aware of the rule but I was glad I got to the gate early as the line continued to increase rapidly.
It was in this line that I made my very first friend solo traveling. He was tall and from Sweden, he was a bit older and really gave me vibes that I could trust him. He was very talkative, asking lots of questions but also talking a lot about himself, someone very extroverted to pull out my introverted self.
We waited in the growing line of hikers, all equipped with poles and headlamps, for the bridge to open. After signing in with our passports to pass the bridge we would arrive at a road and then the trail up to Machu Picchu.
My new friend’s talkative nature led to our group growing as we discussed where we had been and where we were going. It was a lot of fun to meet all of these other hikers and to realize I wasn’t going to be alone like I originally feared.
When the bridge opened, we were all fast on our way, trying to beat the crowds up the stairs to see an abandoned Machu Picchu. I wasn’t really prepared for the massive hike up, all I had been told was that there were a lot of stairs, I later found out there were hundreds of those stairs to get up there. It was exhausting and the altitude definitely made it difficult, as with every set of stairs that met back up with the road, I stopped and had to take a few seconds to stop wheezing and catch my breath.
My new friend was great and we actually hiked at the same pace so we took breaks together and kept talking. He kept encouraging me to move faster, assuming because I was younger that I was holding myself back, but to be fair, I was wheezing so bad. A majority of the hike was in the dark, my horrible ability to plan ahead, I completely forgot that a headlamp would be needed. I spent much of my hike stumbling or keeping close with a group, using their flashes to see the trail ahead and memorizing where the rocks were. It made it a bit more exciting but at the moment I was pretty mad at myself.
About 3/4ths the way up the hike, the sun began to rise and it was light enough for me to see the trail. Even though I wasn’t at Machu Picchu for that exact moment, it was magical to see through the trees along the stairway hike, where the beautiful orange sun was streaming through.
It felt amazing to be surrounded by like minded people in Peru, hiking all together in solidarity to see this global wonder. The idea that many years before me came the people who built such an improbable place, who faced these harrowing cliffs and decided to go right over them to build a safe haven for their lives. It was breathtaking, in more than one way, as I hustled up into the high altitude, where I continued wheezing my way up the last fourth of the hike.
As the sun came up the hustle got faster, until I heard the cheers and hoots of the front runners reach the top. I was breathing hard with a bright red face dripping with sweat but I was so proud of myself for making it there. I looked around at the crowds as the first buses began to appear with people and made my way to the line. I had heard that the Peruvian government was trying to make it so people needed guides to enter and teach them the history but I didn’t have the time or money for that. So I slipped in behind another group to act like I was with them and moved on through the gates.
Ever since I was little and saw pictures in National Geographic books, with my Papa who had talked about the history of the Inca people, I dreamed of visiting. My hands wouldn’t stop fiddling as I made my way up the trail to the lookout point. Honestly, I think many things can be anti-climatic when you build them up in your mind but this was truly something else. I stared and took photos and stared some more.
These moments really amaze you, they really connect me to everyone else who was facing those stone structures balanced perfectly on this mountain top. It connected me to the past, of the people who visited and lived there. And it connected me to myself as I breathed the thin and cold air in, and with watering eyes felt so much love for my body who had made it that far, and so much love for myself for the courage it took to go and be there alone.
I think self love has been very fleeting in my life, and these moments of magic that I felt staring at the stone structures of homes and temples down below me, surrounded by mountains and a rising sun, that I felt the full impact of self-love, flowing from the very center of me to the smallest skin cell. I felt new and reborn.
I continued on down the trail to be some of the first that actually entered the structures. I wandered alone through them, gently touching the stones and the grass in amazement and remembered all I had read. I think something not a lot of people are able to do is explore this place completely alone. I was lucky to have beat the crowds and enjoyed a spiritual moment.
What I didn’t realize is this was supposed to be all one way, so I reached the end where I thought I could loop around and found I was supposed to leave. I was staring at the viewpoint and since I was the first one through, the guard asked if I had missed that part and I said yes and he was nice enough to let me back on through. Now there were people filling all parts and I sat at the lookout closing my eyes and enjoying some rest in the sun.
I heard a small scuffle to my left so I opened my eyes and there sitting right in front of me was the big eyeball of a llama who came to see what I was doing on the ground. The tall, long necked furry animal plodded around me with its large hooves and nudged me a few times with its gentle muzzle. I had no idea they just let them roam around free and I laughed in joy as this beautifully groomed animal moved on to bother other people, most likely hoping for a snack.
I spent hours there but around late morning I knew I needed to start moving again so I could make it back to Cusco in time for my trip to Rainbow mountain the next day. I gave a long last look, a few more pictures for my Papa, and headed back through the maze, now weaving through a mass of people but headed out the exit this time.
