Peru: Machu Pichu, Lake Titicaca and the second deepest canyon in the world

Lake Titicaca

From Bolivia to Peru, we slipped from one country to the other beside one of the highest lakes in the world. After three hours on the road Peruvian side, we arrived in the lakeside city of Puno where we organised a two day tour to some of the islands of Titicaca. It was like going back in time. No cars, cultivating enough food to survive, indigenous traditions and practices with a strong mix of pre-Colombian cultures. On the boat ride to Amantaní Island - where we would eventually stay with a local family - we stopped off for short visit to one of the famous Uros floating islands of Titicaca. Made entirely of reeds and fixed only with wooden stakes, families of the Uros date back hundreds of years. Thick layers of intertwined reeds form spongey but solid platforms and sustain communities made up of reed houses, schools and the like. Also the reed's versitility can be seen from its use in cooking (it's edible, tasty even!) to making things such as boats. Although it has become a bit of a tourist attraction, it was fascinating to see families still living in such a unique environment, with a few modern additions such as solar panels.

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Three hours further on the boat we arrived on Amantaní, where our hosts Maximo and Anselma, showed us to their lovely little hillside house and way of life. Wood fired stove, a garden with enough food to feed on, a sheep, a donkey, a chicken and thick layers of blankets to allay the freezing cold nights (there was no heating or hot water). Before sunset we hiked, huffed and puffed our way up to the top of the island, 4,000m above sea level, for stunning views of the lake and the Andes, and drank the very tasty and locally grown Muna tea for the first time (another plant infusion similar to coca but much tastier that helps with the altitude). Later in the evening we were invited to a community dance and our hosts kindly lent us traditional dress to wear for the night which was a lot of fun. It felt a privilege to spend time with Maximo and Anselma over delicious home-cooked meals - which traditionally start with a wonderful soup full of locally grown goodness such as quinoa, green veg and tasty potatoes (as in many South American countries soup is a prerequisite starter of every meal) - and to get such a close insight into such a different outlook on, and way of, life.

Arequipa & the Colca Canyon

When the city says Puno, the body says no poo. My body decided to pull up the drawbridge with perfect comedy timing and the irony was just as strong as the body’s stubbornness. Leaving Puno gave relief and thankfully, Arequipa didn’t sound anything like ‘constipation’. It was very pleasant to be on the move again!

We travelled five hours south to the beautiful city of the aforementioned Arequipa and its very picturesque, colonial centre - our favourite in South America so far. The route there was astounding. As much for the vastness and beauty of the landscape as for the depressing amounts of rubbish dumped at the side of the road. At one point I thought we were approaching a small lake by the road but in fact it was broken glass! (Unfortunately Peru has a problem with wide scale littering). Our aim was to explore the surrounding canyons from here, so after a couple of days  of soaking up the warm climate and stunning historic centre spreading out from the main square, we started a three day trek into the Colca Canyon. 

Bleary eyed, we were picked up from our hostel at the totally unearthly hour of 3.30am (by far the earliest I have ever got up to go for a hike!). We needed to drive four hours to our starting point at the top of the canyon before the sun got too high, plus to have the chance of seeing Condors taking flight early in the morning and also to have a spot of breakfast along the way. We hiked down the aridly steep, rocky decent to the river bed taking in the views of the canyon along the way. Once there we crossed and walked along the more gentle and far greener opposite side - past Aloe Vera plants and Papaya trees - to our shelter for the night. Our group was made up of a lovely French and German couple from Lyon and Munich respectively and a young Dutch guy.

“Cookies cookies where are the cookies?” Before going to sleep, we undertook our night-time ritual (which began in the jungle), of getting the torch out and checking our pitch black, rustic room for anything that moved. Or as Laura nicknamed them, ‘cookies’. We didn’t need long before the inspection yielded a delightfully horrible little monster. A little scorpion no less! Sitting happily on the wall next to our bed. Paper, glass, trap, chuck. The mini-beast was promptly asked to leave. With the bed now positioned in the centre of the room, as far from any walls as possible, we tried to sleep more peacefully. 

After an easy second day which ended at a beautiful oasis where we could swim, the third morning was a big slap in the face. Starting at 5am, with head torches on, we began the steep ascent of 1.5km up to the top of the canyon where the altitude was approaching 3,500m. Although actually under half of the deepest section of the canyon, this was still a bloody hard slog that seemed to have no end in sight. My admiration for the mules grew quicker than the giant sweat patch forming on my back. Seeing them steam past carrying huge weights of everything from crate loads of Cusquena beers to VIP tourists I felt in awe of their power. To make myself feel better I told myself if I had two extra legs, and I was being whipped, I might move quickly too! It was a never-ending, steep climb with almost as many curses as breaths but 2 hours 40 minutes later we got to the top and had a much needed breakfast. Back in Arequipa we were worn-out but pleased with the achievement of trekking in the second deepest canyon in the world. That night we caught the overnight bus to the higher climes of Cusco with the knowledge that we would have seven nights of rest and recuperation before embarking on our five day trek to Machu Pichu.

Trouble brewing

The Colca Canyon had seemed like a good warm up for the upcoming Salkantay Trek but unfortunately there was some trouble on the horizon. While relaxing at the oasis in the Colca Canyon, Laura was stung by a wasp on the sole of her foot. Luckily the pain had subsided enough for her to plough to the top on the last day but with a combination of the rubbing in her boot and our stop off at some natural hot springs on the way back to Arequipa, by the evening her foot was worryingly red, hot and swollen. It really hurt to walk and with the trek to Machu Pichu coming up and a possible infection brewing we sought out a doctor immediately when we reached Cusco. He prescribed antibiotics for the infection with five days of complete rest and also said that we should cross our fingers and hope for the best for Laura to be well enough in time. 

Machu Pichu and the Salkantay Trek

Five Days, 90km, glaciers, blisters, lakes, bone shatteringly cold nights, sore knees, 4600m high passes and sweaty jungle full of passion fruit, avocados, bananas and coffee plantations, our group finally made it. Matt and Elena, who we met in April on our Uyuni tour from Chile to Bolivia, were kind enough to invite us to join their group on the trek which consisted of Matt’s parents, Bob and Theresa from Canada and Elena’s Dad and Step-mum, Ulrich and Heidi from Germany.

“MUUCHAACHOOOS!” At our briefing on the eve of the trek we were told by the company organising that we were getting their best guide and it was so true. We felt lucky to have Wimber leading us. His enthusiasm made the difference and his signature group call of “Muuchaachooos!” (meaning ‘guys’) followed always by an infectious laugh, really did keep us going. We were amazed at the quality of the food prepared for us too. Huge breakfasts, lunches and dinners made by the two chefs who, along with the horseman carrying our tents and bags, had to, not only get up earlier than us (we would often start our day’s walking at 5 or 5.30am) but also then overtake us to get to our lunch and dinner stops before us to prepare us a three course meal.

Our first night under starry skies was spent at 4000m altitude in the base camp beneath the snow-capped Salkantay Mountain. Despite Laura and I huddling together on a narrow mattress with sleeping bag, blanket, woolly hat and lots of layers of clothes on, it was still a perishingly cold first night to endure. Wimber’s signature wake-up call at 5am, accompanied by a hot cup of coca tea was hot, salsa music to our freezing cold ears. Having porridge, coffee and a yummy breakfast helped to warm our innards further and prepared us for the longest and hardest day. It was 26km in total which took us over the Salkantay Pass at a lung busting 4.600m, as well as hiking across to a stunning glacial lake and then finally heading down as low as the thick jungle. After two days without a wash, the hot shower at our camp for the night was much needed as was the cold beer afterwards!

The following day we walked through thick jungle and along rocky mountainside paths loaded with silver! (I so wanted to collect some but I couldn’t bare carrying any extra weight!) The path was only recently opened since the rainy season with the after effects of a white water river at its angriest evident below us. A whole complex of hot springs had been washed away by the force of the water only a few months before. Wimber showed us orchids, gave us coffee plants to suck on (I never knew coffee beans were covered in a sweet, slimy, tasty goo), we picked passion fruit and he pointed out opium plants. He also warned us of touching the hallucinatory and potentially deadly effects of the pretty trumpet flowers which were growing everywhere. Only Shamans are trusted with them in these parts he said. Covered in sweat, and silver dust, the cold showers when we reached camp were so welcome, even though it felt so wrong to wash off the silver! (I hate being covered in dust but sprinkle some silver in there and it suddenly doesn’t seem so bad!). 

The fourth day started at 5.30am and we got our first sighting of Machu Pichu two hours later on from the top of an adjacent mountain. We were close now and it gave us huge boost but it wasn’t until dusk, and 12 hours walking, that we finally reached the Machu Pichu village of Aguas Calientes. It felt like one of the longest days in my life. My legs and feet were saying they’d had enough now. Knackered we dragged ourselves to dinner with the rest of our group. The question on everyone’s lips was, were we going to walk up the last section from the village to the top first thing in the morning to be beat the crowds? Or get the bus? Our bodies were hurting. The aches and creaks were making more noise than the conversation at the table but when Heidi said she was in. So were we all. 

We made it before sunrise. Thankfully, unlike the rest of our body parts, our eyes still functioned to take in what we were gifted to see. Having taken ourselves such a long distance to get there it really felt that little bit more special. The air was still, the surrounding mountains magical and the Inca city was in its morning pose. The sunlight beamed through the neighbouring mountains and lit up the city. There were a few people but it felt like we were alone, privileged to be looking at something so legendary.

I was surprised to be so impressed by it having seen lots of photos before but I really was humbled. The setting magical, the smooth, lush green mountains 360 degrees around us like from a fairy tale. We couldn’t stop saying ‘what a place this would have been to live!’ Those first two or three hours up there were amazing. It really made the difference being there early before 2500 people ascended on the ruins, shuffling around, tripping over their own selfie sticks. The first few hours gave the view its authenticity and you could look out at the city imagining yourself back in 1500, in the Inca’s shoes. 

Back in Cusco, Elena’s Dad kindly invited us for breakfast at their hotel and there he modestly put into words what the last five days had meant to him. Getting quite emotional, he revealed that it has been his dream since he was a young boy to walk to Machu Pichu and at 61 he finally got to fulfil this dream. It felt a privilege to have shared this special moment with him and after 90km getting to this point his words about what it meant also resonated with Laura and I.