The Inka Trail, a four day, 49km hike along the Urubamba River and over high mountain passes, is the most famous trek in South America and has long been a dream of mine to hike. 
January is considered low season for the trail because of the high rainfall. But if getting a little wet and missing a couple of views allowed me to escape the masses of other trekkers (up to 500 people per day in peak season) then I figured it would be worth it.
As no one is allowed to hike independently I found a good agency that guaranteed small group sizes, decent food and booked my departure for January 27th.
On the evening before the hike commenced we had a briefing. This was a chance for our group to meet and get advise on what to pack, what to expect and how to handle any altitude sickness that may arise.
At 05:45 the next morning our group of eight assembled at the Plaza Regocijo to meet our guide and porters. Sleepily bundled into an ancient, but sturdy looking bus we set off on the three-hour drive to Km 82. Just as the bus departed and I closed my eyes, the rain began.
Two hours later we stopped for a light breakfast. The mate de coca (coca tea), which accompanied our eggs and bread, soon has our whole group a little less groggy and a lot more excited about the next four days. And what cheered us up even more than the cocaine-infused local tea were the blue skies appearing above us. The mist had lifted and we were able to glimpse the lush green mountains all around us. Perhaps if we had of realized how rare a mist-free morning would be over the next few days we would have taken more photos instead of leisurely enjoying a second (and third) cup of mate de coca.
Another hour on the bus took us to the starting point for the Trail, Km 82. There were quite a few tourist gringos gathered here with their respective tour agencies and I felt like just another tourist. But once we got on our way we soon found the isolation I was hoping for. And the once again present mist only served to add to the mysterious atmosphere of the Andean jungle.
Our group was great. There were three couples, from Ireland, New Zealand and Germany as well as one Australian and myself. And, as all of us were experienced hikers we soon made good time and found ourselves a good way from the other groups. Our Peruvian guide, Carlos, assured us that we were the fastest group he’d had in years, although he may have just been flattering us in hope of a good tip.
Day was is labeled the ‘easy’ day on our course maps. We covered a mere fourteen kilometers in six hours. Starting at 2380M and slowing rising to about 3000M by late afternoon. Despite the early rise the mornings hike wasn’t too strenuous. When we stopped for lunch we were all quite amazed to see that our porters had ran ahead of us with two large tents (one for dining and one for cooking), tables, chairs and other unessential, but much appreciated home comforts. As we hung our wet ponchos and hats inside the dining tent to drip dry we were greeted to a three course lunch and more mate de coca to keep our energy up and ward off any altitude sickness.
And after an hours break we carried on to our destination for the day, Wyllabamba, supposedly a great place for photos opportunities, but with the surrounding mist we could only see each others faces, smiling at the relief of our first day completed. The rain had temporarily ceased and we took the opportunity to sit around camp and get to know each other. Meanwhile the ever-industrious porters once again began to prepare us a three-course meal for dinner. A healthy fresh vegetable soup to start, followed by four or five dishes for main course, including options for the two vegetarians in the group and, of course, desert to follow. It certainly beat the baked beans, half-cooked sausages and stale bread of my previous camping trips. 
In the evening we sat in our dining tent sharing stories and telling jokes. A great bunch of people who, between the lot of them have probably been to nearly all the countries in the world, especially the German couple, Katrin and Daniel, who were on a six-month, round the world honeymoon.
The whole group retired to their sleeping tents early in preparation for a 05:30 rise, but I felt I deserved a little reward so retrieved the bottle of whisky from my backpack. An hour or two later I felt I had really bonded with the porters and guide as we shared my ‘water of life’ and tried to communicate in (my terrible) Spanish. So with a slur I said ‘Buenas noches’ and staggered back to my tent with no comprehension of just how few hours I would be allowed to sleep.
At the ungodly hour of five our porters gently awaked us. The absurdities I was about to direct at the man knocking on our tent were soon muted when I seen the two steaming cups of mate de coca he had brought for me and my tent mate Aussie Josh. And next to the tents ha had also placed two plastic basins of warm water for us to wash our faces and armpits, etc.
As I groggily staggered to the dining tent for breakfast, our guide, who had drunken as much as me, energetically asked ‘Ready for the Challenge day Mark?’ I grunted something that even I didn’t understand and took out my Inka Trek map to study our itinerary over a strong cup of coffee. ‘Oh no!’, I thought. This day was going to be a nightmare. Only twelve kilometers over seven hours, but most of it was on a steep incline. We were to start in forest microclimate and then climb up and over the infamous Dead Woman’s Pass where we would reach a height of 4215M, 500M higher than Mt. Fuji. This section was notoriously difficult and the most likely point to suffer altitude sickness, so I began to question the logic of my great whiskey idea the previous evening.
But the coffee and even more mate de coca saved the day and it wasn’t as bad as I expected. Two of our group had fallen sick due to the altitude so our pace was very manageable and the mist even cleared a couple of times to give us the majestic views we were hoping for. Following another great dinner I promptly collapsed in my tent.
Day three was labeled ‘unforgettable’ because of the viewpoints along the way. We seen very little of these because of the mist, but it was still a beautiful six hours hiking, and even more beautiful as it was mostly downhill. Unfortunately the last section involved a steep decline of nearly one thousand metres. The only word I can use to describe this experience is ‘grueling’. My knees and thighs were screaming at me ever step of the way. But at our camp for the night, Winaywayna (something of a base camp), there was a little ‘bar’ and since it was our last night together a few of us had some beers to ease the pain. There was also a little ceremony whereby we thanked our porters for their inhuman strength and speed in carrying all our stuff and food and for preparing such great meals. And then it was off to bed for a super early rise at 04:00.
The next morning, miserable and shivering I got out of my sleeping bag in the early morning darkness. We had seven kilometers to cover in two hours to catch sunrise at The Gate of The Sun, the entrance to Machu Picchu. None of us looked too happy to be finally reaching our goal, but just as the sun arose the mist lifted and began to reveal our first sunny day of the trip.
January is considered low season for the trail because of the high rainfall. But if getting a little wet and missing a couple of views allowed me to escape the masses of other trekkers (up to 500 people per day in peak season) then I figured it would be worth it.As no one is allowed to hike independently I found a good agency that guaranteed small group sizes, decent food and booked my departure for January 27th.
On the evening before the hike commenced we had a briefing. This was a chance for our group to meet and get advise on what to pack, what to expect and how to handle any altitude sickness that may arise.
At 05:45 the next morning our group of eight assembled at the Plaza Regocijo to meet our guide and porters. Sleepily bundled into an ancient, but sturdy looking bus we set off on the three-hour drive to Km 82. Just as the bus departed and I closed my eyes, the rain began.
Two hours later we stopped for a light breakfast. The mate de coca (coca tea), which accompanied our eggs and bread, soon has our whole group a little less groggy and a lot more excited about the next four days. And what cheered us up even more than the cocaine-infused local tea were the blue skies appearing above us. The mist had lifted and we were able to glimpse the lush green mountains all around us. Perhaps if we had of realized how rare a mist-free morning would be over the next few days we would have taken more photos instead of leisurely enjoying a second (and third) cup of mate de coca.Another hour on the bus took us to the starting point for the Trail, Km 82. There were quite a few tourist gringos gathered here with their respective tour agencies and I felt like just another tourist. But once we got on our way we soon found the isolation I was hoping for. And the once again present mist only served to add to the mysterious atmosphere of the Andean jungle.
Our group was great. There were three couples, from Ireland, New Zealand and Germany as well as one Australian and myself. And, as all of us were experienced hikers we soon made good time and found ourselves a good way from the other groups. Our Peruvian guide, Carlos, assured us that we were the fastest group he’d had in years, although he may have just been flattering us in hope of a good tip.Day was is labeled the ‘easy’ day on our course maps. We covered a mere fourteen kilometers in six hours. Starting at 2380M and slowing rising to about 3000M by late afternoon. Despite the early rise the mornings hike wasn’t too strenuous. When we stopped for lunch we were all quite amazed to see that our porters had ran ahead of us with two large tents (one for dining and one for cooking), tables, chairs and other unessential, but much appreciated home comforts. As we hung our wet ponchos and hats inside the dining tent to drip dry we were greeted to a three course lunch and more mate de coca to keep our energy up and ward off any altitude sickness.
And after an hours break we carried on to our destination for the day, Wyllabamba, supposedly a great place for photos opportunities, but with the surrounding mist we could only see each others faces, smiling at the relief of our first day completed. The rain had temporarily ceased and we took the opportunity to sit around camp and get to know each other. Meanwhile the ever-industrious porters once again began to prepare us a three-course meal for dinner. A healthy fresh vegetable soup to start, followed by four or five dishes for main course, including options for the two vegetarians in the group and, of course, desert to follow. It certainly beat the baked beans, half-cooked sausages and stale bread of my previous camping trips. 
In the evening we sat in our dining tent sharing stories and telling jokes. A great bunch of people who, between the lot of them have probably been to nearly all the countries in the world, especially the German couple, Katrin and Daniel, who were on a six-month, round the world honeymoon. The whole group retired to their sleeping tents early in preparation for a 05:30 rise, but I felt I deserved a little reward so retrieved the bottle of whisky from my backpack. An hour or two later I felt I had really bonded with the porters and guide as we shared my ‘water of life’ and tried to communicate in (my terrible) Spanish. So with a slur I said ‘Buenas noches’ and staggered back to my tent with no comprehension of just how few hours I would be allowed to sleep.
At the ungodly hour of five our porters gently awaked us. The absurdities I was about to direct at the man knocking on our tent were soon muted when I seen the two steaming cups of mate de coca he had brought for me and my tent mate Aussie Josh. And next to the tents ha had also placed two plastic basins of warm water for us to wash our faces and armpits, etc.
As I groggily staggered to the dining tent for breakfast, our guide, who had drunken as much as me, energetically asked ‘Ready for the Challenge day Mark?’ I grunted something that even I didn’t understand and took out my Inka Trek map to study our itinerary over a strong cup of coffee. ‘Oh no!’, I thought. This day was going to be a nightmare. Only twelve kilometers over seven hours, but most of it was on a steep incline. We were to start in forest microclimate and then climb up and over the infamous Dead Woman’s Pass where we would reach a height of 4215M, 500M higher than Mt. Fuji. This section was notoriously difficult and the most likely point to suffer altitude sickness, so I began to question the logic of my great whiskey idea the previous evening.
But the coffee and even more mate de coca saved the day and it wasn’t as bad as I expected. Two of our group had fallen sick due to the altitude so our pace was very manageable and the mist even cleared a couple of times to give us the majestic views we were hoping for. Following another great dinner I promptly collapsed in my tent. Day three was labeled ‘unforgettable’ because of the viewpoints along the way. We seen very little of these because of the mist, but it was still a beautiful six hours hiking, and even more beautiful as it was mostly downhill. Unfortunately the last section involved a steep decline of nearly one thousand metres. The only word I can use to describe this experience is ‘grueling’. My knees and thighs were screaming at me ever step of the way. But at our camp for the night, Winaywayna (something of a base camp), there was a little ‘bar’ and since it was our last night together a few of us had some beers to ease the pain. There was also a little ceremony whereby we thanked our porters for their inhuman strength and speed in carrying all our stuff and food and for preparing such great meals. And then it was off to bed for a super early rise at 04:00.
The next morning, miserable and shivering I got out of my sleeping bag in the early morning darkness. We had seven kilometers to cover in two hours to catch sunrise at The Gate of The Sun, the entrance to Machu Picchu. None of us looked too happy to be finally reaching our goal, but just as the sun arose the mist lifted and began to reveal our first sunny day of the trip.
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