Facebook reminded us it was April, 2016, almost exactly nine years ago, that we visited Machu Picchu, an amazing trip despite some mishaps along the way.
Machu Picchu itself, the “Lost City of the Incas,” was probably built for the royalty of the Inca empire. It dates from the 1400s to 1500s, and was overgrown by jungle until being rediscovered in the early 20th century.
Brian first read about it in one of his favorite childhood books, Richard Halliburton’s Complete Book of Marvels, in a chapter the travel adventurer, author, and lecturer aptly titled “The Angel Architects.”
We were all set to visit there, until Kathy suffered a torn knee meniscus, which was misdiagnosed as a strained ligament in the hospital ER.
Fitted with a leg brace and a cane, she gamely decided to make the trip three days later.
The wheelchair attendant in the Lima Airport managed to run Kathy’s leg, extended due to a brace, into the wall of the elevator, but she fortunately suffered no additional damage. We’d decided to spend a couple of days in Lima to get acclimated to the high altitude, not noticing when booking that Lima is an oceanfront city. It was a hilarious and just plain dumb mistake for “world travelers” to make. On the other hand, we really liked Lima, and have returned there twice in recent years.
From Lima we flew to Cuzco, a fascinating city of about 400,000, with an elevation of 11,200 feet. That’s where you acclimate! It was also in our hotel’s breakfast room that completely by chance we ran into Fiona and Russell, two Australian friends and their family, just returned from hiking the ambitious trail that affords an alternative way to reach Machu Picchu, one of several "small world" surprises we've experienced.
After a one-day tour of the area with a friendly guide (albeit it with too many ups and downs for Kathy), we set off with a private driver for the two-hour drive from Cuzco to the Peru Rail train station at Ollantaytambo. Disaster struck. We couldn’t find our passports and asked the driver to return us to the hotel. The hotel couldn’t find our passports, and as we sat forlornly in the lobby Brian discovered them hidden away in a different location in his shoulder bag. (After our recent bag theft on a French train, Brian will carry his passport in one of those neck bags). We then hired the helpful driver to convey us to the train again.
As we arrived at the train station, night was falling, but we were glad to finally be off. Peru Rail wouldn’t honor our first class tickets for our original train but demanded we buy new tickets for the next train. That’s the way it goes.
A hotel employee was waiting for us at the train station in the little town of Aguas Calientes (we had called and told them we’d be delayed), and we finally could rest our weary heads after walking with him in a light rain for a couple of blocks.
The following morning we took a bus up the switchbacks to the entrance to Machu Picchu, not knowing how far we could get with Kathy’s extremely sore leg. We hoped we could at least catch a glimpse of it.
Gilberto, a guide who used a cane himself, approached and said he could take us on easier paths and shortcuts to view the ruins. He accomplished that splendidly.
Machu Picchu itself is 7,900 feet in elevation at the base, only about a thousand feet higher than Kathy’s home town of Durango, Colorado. Moving at our slow pace, we experienced no elevation sickness, nor even shortness of breath.
It was a rare sunny day, and after our mainly self-inflicted difficulties, it proved to be a peak experience, so to speak.
We’ll let the photos speak for themselves. Search our blog in April 2016 for more posts with information about our trip.
Note Kathy’s leg brace and cane. Aren’t we the decrepit couple!
Gilberto was a champion guide.
Llama lawnmowers…
A river far below…
Great memories!