We are running through the night. Past open drains, feet smacking the rough downhill, the darkness full of backpacker zombies, stumbling blindly through town and groaning. Shouting for our group, this 4am halflight is all torches and confusion. We are all racing to the gates. A collection of the most hardened and ambitious lead the pack.
To get to Machu Picchu on foot one must climb over 2000 steps. A climb known as The Gringo Killer. The gate to the path opens at 4.45am. If you make the climb in under and hour you beat the first bus and guarantee yourself a stamp to climb Waynapichu - the famous peak pictured in all the Machu Picchu moneyshots. It´s all very competitive.
"It burns for the first 400" I hear. These steps aren´t normal steps, but jagged, uneven giant steps. We hit them running, still at the front of the pack. After 2 minutes I´m breathless.
As I climb I think of my friends. My family. Casting my mind into the wonderous pool of happy memories, plucking them out still breathing. I think of the birds, who are singing despite the soft sheet of rain. And of Yale University, who have some relics (mainly gold) which were taken from the site of Macchu Picchu and still have not been returned. Halfway up, (we imagine) and it feels as if i have been climbing steps for my entire life.
Thirty five minutes and we are at the top, soaked in rainwater and sweat, with twenty others already in the queue at the entrance to Machu Picchu - the Old Mountain.
The four days preceding this moment have been utterly amazing - some of the finest of my trip. Day one was mountain biking from 4000m to 1000m: through the freezing mist down into the jungle. The three day trek snaked through unbelievable mountains, hugging the cliffs, falling away hundreds of feet on one side to a river. One of our group suffers vertigo and had to crawl, not looking down. Bananas, mangoes, avacado and papaya grow in abundance in this lush landscape. The perfect day ends at the hot springs beside a raging river. Floating in the hot water and watching a storm roll in, huge drops falling on us as we loll in the massive bath.
That night we have no electricity and the storm drains are overflowing, splashing down the slick streets.
Our group has swelled to 21 people and the cameraderie is immense. A snake which stretches a mile or more as we trek along the riverbed. Finally we glimpse what we have been aiming for in the distance. And after hiking along the railway tracks singing Stand By Me and idly looking for bodies we reach the town at the base of the mountain.
2000 steps and a small piece of my soul later and I´m at the gates.
You see a thousand pictures of this place but nothing prepares you for what surrounds this mystical city. Impossibly steep, jagged cliffs shrouded in mist. A river snaking through the valley. And perched amidst it all is a ruin so perfect it has become the holy grail of Peru.
The rocks are placed so elegently you can not slide a piece of paper between them. One has 21 sides and fits snuggly into the wall like a jigsaw. So much beauty your eyes can scarcely comprehend.
The mountain towering above the ruins is Waynapichu and glowers down upon us all until we give in and scale the beast. The climb is amazing. Steps so steep you are climbing not walking. And crawling through a cave to reach the top, you are greeted with a stack of boulders precariously placed, gringos perched on each one grinning.
With all its shams, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Thursday 18 November 2010
Friday 12 November 2010
The Great Big South American Ticklist
Be warned. The smugness of this post may make you sick.
The things we ticked off our lists, our great, ever-expanding, life-long lists, were plentiful. Whilst on the road, Andy Ellis and I:
* Ate the Steak of Our Lives in Argentina.
* Rode pillion on a motorbike in the biggest favela in Rio.
* Looked a Southern Right Whale squarely in the face and heard her mammoth inhalation as she filled her lungs.
* Went to a Brazilian rave in the country wilds of Sao Paulo.
* Sunk numerous caipirinhas on Copacobana Beach in Rio.
* Swam in the thermal waters of a hot volcanic spring.
* Breathed the sulphuric stench from a geyser in Bolivia.
* Got chased by llamas.
* Rode a horse into the red desert where Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid battled it out.
* Chewed coca leaves in Bolivia.
* Rode tipsily round the bodegas in Mendoza, sampling the wines.
* Felt the spray of the Iguassu Falls on our faces.
* Saw a Tango Show in Buenos Aires.
* Were robbed blind.
* Watched the sun rise over the Bolivian Salt Flats.
* Accidentally ate cow lung soup. (Big white hexagonal tissue which flails like coral in the hot liquid. Rising bile.)
* Dived into a glacial river.
* Saw smoke rising from two active volcanos.
* Slept in a hotel made entirely from salt.
* Cycled down the World´s Most Dangerous Road.
* Visited the world´s first cocaine bar.
* Crawled down a stifling silver mine in Potosi.
* Hiked through the Amazon rainforest by night.
* Watched the sunrise over Lake Titicaca.
* Survived a light aircraft flight over the Andes.
* Hiked through the jungle to Machu Pichu.
* Sandboarded screaming down the world´s biggest sand dunes.
* Ate a Mexican Christmas dinner in a palm fringed courtyard.
* Were battered by the waves in the Pacific as we played frisbee on Christmas day 2010.
* Had severe food poisoning thanks to a cup of unboiled tap water.
* Toasted marshmallows in an active volcano.
* Burnt effigies at a political rally in Honduras.
* Waded through a flooded Columbian barefoot.
* Got rained on everytime we visited the Caribbean.
* Veered too close to the crocodiles in a boat screaming with tourists.
* Traveled with a group of 11 of our best friends and siblings for Christmas and New Year.
* Missed home.
* Came home.
The things we ticked off our lists, our great, ever-expanding, life-long lists, were plentiful. Whilst on the road, Andy Ellis and I:
* Ate the Steak of Our Lives in Argentina.
* Rode pillion on a motorbike in the biggest favela in Rio.
* Looked a Southern Right Whale squarely in the face and heard her mammoth inhalation as she filled her lungs.
* Went to a Brazilian rave in the country wilds of Sao Paulo.
* Sunk numerous caipirinhas on Copacobana Beach in Rio.
* Swam in the thermal waters of a hot volcanic spring.
* Breathed the sulphuric stench from a geyser in Bolivia.
* Got chased by llamas.
* Rode a horse into the red desert where Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid battled it out.
* Chewed coca leaves in Bolivia.
* Rode tipsily round the bodegas in Mendoza, sampling the wines.
* Felt the spray of the Iguassu Falls on our faces.
* Saw a Tango Show in Buenos Aires.
* Were robbed blind.
* Watched the sun rise over the Bolivian Salt Flats.
* Accidentally ate cow lung soup. (Big white hexagonal tissue which flails like coral in the hot liquid. Rising bile.)
* Dived into a glacial river.
* Saw smoke rising from two active volcanos.
* Slept in a hotel made entirely from salt.
* Cycled down the World´s Most Dangerous Road.
* Visited the world´s first cocaine bar.
* Crawled down a stifling silver mine in Potosi.
* Hiked through the Amazon rainforest by night.
* Watched the sunrise over Lake Titicaca.
* Survived a light aircraft flight over the Andes.
* Hiked through the jungle to Machu Pichu.
* Sandboarded screaming down the world´s biggest sand dunes.
* Ate a Mexican Christmas dinner in a palm fringed courtyard.
* Were battered by the waves in the Pacific as we played frisbee on Christmas day 2010.
* Had severe food poisoning thanks to a cup of unboiled tap water.
* Toasted marshmallows in an active volcano.
* Burnt effigies at a political rally in Honduras.
* Waded through a flooded Columbian barefoot.
* Got rained on everytime we visited the Caribbean.
* Veered too close to the crocodiles in a boat screaming with tourists.
* Traveled with a group of 11 of our best friends and siblings for Christmas and New Year.
* Missed home.
* Came home.
Thursday 11 November 2010
Eau De DEET: Ruff In Da Jungle
OK so. The Amazon was like, right there so we thought, fuck it. Let´s do it. Let´s buy a cheap flight on a light aircraft and risk our lives flying over the Andes, my entire body CLENCHED and praying to a God I do not believe in. Every tick and whurr and change in tempo of those flimsy little propellors and I´m in pieces. *GASP* OH MY GOD! The entire cabin is looking at me digging my nails into the arm rests. Some are laughing. Some are sympathetic. None of them seem to realise we are about to die.
And then we land in a field, which is infact the airport in Rurrenebaque, the jungle town of Northern Bolivia. Adjectives first. HOT. Loud. Humid. The air is tangibly thick like a soup spiked with insects. Every single person we see is dripping with sweat - locals included. We get on a boat with a crew of six amazing chaps and head up the backwaters into the Pampas. Immeditaly the stars of the show begin to emerge. Caimon! somneone shouts. Where? Did i miss it? asks Niv, one of our gang. Then we see another set of eyes, then another, they are everywhere these prehistoric lizards. Basking in the water, eyeing the boat with sidelong glances, as nonchalent as our guide Jiro.
Turtles stacked up like Russian dolls in descending size, capabari - giant guinee pigs - snuffling around the shoreline, having swimming lessons. They all freeze when the see the boat, peering at us like a giant Sylvanian family. The absolute star of the show is the Anaconda we see draped around a tree. And the piranhas which we catch using lumps of steak, whisking them out of the water, their jaws still gnashing. Not much meat on a piranha mind.
Two pink river dolphins join our fishing expidition - hugely diminshing our catch. They shyly play, never too close but beautiful and strong diving and dining on the piranhas. After three days of pampas exploration, watching the family of squirrel monkeys who live above the camp, we head to the rainforest. Cooler, louder, more exotic. The AMAZON....
We hike through the jungle towards the camp with our guide Luis and suddenly hear ´Ay ay ay!´ Swollen by the rain, the stream cutting off us and the camp is now a raging river. We have to strip down and wade with our bags aloft. I watch as Luis tries to hurl my rucksack over the water to a waiting man. Passports, novel, journal. I cover my eyes.
Wading through the rainforest in my undies. I never expected this.
Life in the rainforest is beautiful. Cacophony of crickets, bird calls which sound like electro samples. There is a tarantula in our camp who comes out at night to hunt so a torch is essential to see what is crawling over your feet. Luis picks up the biggest ant i have ever seen with his machete. If these bite you it´s ten hours of pain. I back slowly away. Spiders bigger than my hand, frogs the size of my finger nail with transparent skin. Butterflies like dinner plates.
Standing looking skywards beneath a MASSIVE tree and suddenly i hear a load buzzing. I run my fingers through my hair to discover i have been attacked by a swarm of biting flies who burrow down to your skull and eventually cut your hair off with their pincers. They are nestled, clinging on hard and im screaming. We manage to pull them all off me when Luis returns making a face. One has flown into his EAR. Oh the horror. Later that night he kills it with cigarette smoke.
I feel like I´m on Planet Earth and Attenborough is talking me through the incredible wildlife as we meander under the canopies. The jungle is MASSIVE.
NB. The Gallery of BITES: bedbugs, sandflies, mosquitos, ants. Bedbugs are the worst by a Bolivian country mile.
And then we land in a field, which is infact the airport in Rurrenebaque, the jungle town of Northern Bolivia. Adjectives first. HOT. Loud. Humid. The air is tangibly thick like a soup spiked with insects. Every single person we see is dripping with sweat - locals included. We get on a boat with a crew of six amazing chaps and head up the backwaters into the Pampas. Immeditaly the stars of the show begin to emerge. Caimon! somneone shouts. Where? Did i miss it? asks Niv, one of our gang. Then we see another set of eyes, then another, they are everywhere these prehistoric lizards. Basking in the water, eyeing the boat with sidelong glances, as nonchalent as our guide Jiro.
Turtles stacked up like Russian dolls in descending size, capabari - giant guinee pigs - snuffling around the shoreline, having swimming lessons. They all freeze when the see the boat, peering at us like a giant Sylvanian family. The absolute star of the show is the Anaconda we see draped around a tree. And the piranhas which we catch using lumps of steak, whisking them out of the water, their jaws still gnashing. Not much meat on a piranha mind.
Two pink river dolphins join our fishing expidition - hugely diminshing our catch. They shyly play, never too close but beautiful and strong diving and dining on the piranhas. After three days of pampas exploration, watching the family of squirrel monkeys who live above the camp, we head to the rainforest. Cooler, louder, more exotic. The AMAZON....
We hike through the jungle towards the camp with our guide Luis and suddenly hear ´Ay ay ay!´ Swollen by the rain, the stream cutting off us and the camp is now a raging river. We have to strip down and wade with our bags aloft. I watch as Luis tries to hurl my rucksack over the water to a waiting man. Passports, novel, journal. I cover my eyes.
Wading through the rainforest in my undies. I never expected this.
Life in the rainforest is beautiful. Cacophony of crickets, bird calls which sound like electro samples. There is a tarantula in our camp who comes out at night to hunt so a torch is essential to see what is crawling over your feet. Luis picks up the biggest ant i have ever seen with his machete. If these bite you it´s ten hours of pain. I back slowly away. Spiders bigger than my hand, frogs the size of my finger nail with transparent skin. Butterflies like dinner plates.
Standing looking skywards beneath a MASSIVE tree and suddenly i hear a load buzzing. I run my fingers through my hair to discover i have been attacked by a swarm of biting flies who burrow down to your skull and eventually cut your hair off with their pincers. They are nestled, clinging on hard and im screaming. We manage to pull them all off me when Luis returns making a face. One has flown into his EAR. Oh the horror. Later that night he kills it with cigarette smoke.
I feel like I´m on Planet Earth and Attenborough is talking me through the incredible wildlife as we meander under the canopies. The jungle is MASSIVE.
NB. The Gallery of BITES: bedbugs, sandflies, mosquitos, ants. Bedbugs are the worst by a Bolivian country mile.
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