For the more astute readers among us, you may have already noticed that this post isn’t in keeping with my ‘I love America’ theme. That’s right. I decided to head a little further south and write about my epic experiences in Peru. The OCD part of my brain is telling me to stick strictly to America-related blog postings, creating a wonderfully organised, untainted portfolio of star-spangled words. However, during a completely unexpected spring clean, I just so happened upon my old Peru diary from 2005. Reading through it, and laughing at my oh so juvenile writing, it made me incredibly nostalgic, so here I am just writing a little bit about my 14 year old self in the beautifully colourful country that is Peru.
Me, aged 14, sporting the ever so chic zip-off cargo trousers
Now, if you’ve read my previous posts, you will already know that the Jeffery family LOVE an adventure holiday- and this holiday certainly cements that statement. I’m sure to some of you, a family holiday to Peru seems a little odd- especially when the children in question are 14 and 17 years old, but to walk the Inca Trail to the city of Machu Picchu has always been a dream of my mum’s. Embracing the well versed mantra of ‘life’s too short’ (which I suppose is the old school version of the new and disgustingly overused phrase ‘YOLO’- one that I despise to my very core,) we went ahead and booked an 18 day adventure- 2 weeks in Peru followed by a very much needed 4 day rest in the tiny Caribbean island of Bonaire (part of the package deal.)
So opening my overly cringey 14-year old diary, I inform myself that we all got up at 3am and that “Sam (brother) is so useless that it’s funny.” All immensely gripping stuff. After much unnecessary information regarding the gate location, gate number and my magazine selection (why I felt compelled to include that I’ll never know. I must have thought that I’ll look back and think ‘ahh gate E20, my old friend…’) it appears we had a layover in Amsterdam before getting on a 9 hour flight to Bonaire, to then have a 4 hour flight to Lima. No details spared there. We stayed in Lima for about 3 days just to get used to the time difference. I personally didn’t think much to the capital. Whilst the architecture was stunning, the city lacked the Latin American vivacity that you’d expect. The sky was grey and foggy and the streets failed to ignite any sense of enthusiasm, patriotism or passion. Maybe I’m doing it a disservice though as I was only there for 3 days and perhaps saw it all through pretty jet-lagged eyes. Taking an hours flight east, we arrived in the incredible city of Cusco. Now this is a city that embodies Latin America- colour, culture, music, good food, great smells, fascinating history, undulating landscapes and picturesque views. Set 3,000ft up in the Andes, Cusco is a mandatory stopover for anyone wanting to do the Inca Trail as you are required to acclimatise and adjust to the altitude- it’s surprising how noticeable the thinning air is.
The view of Cusco from Saqsaywaman
Having avidly watched Michael Palin’s Full Circle DVD prior to the trip, where he visits Peru, we had a mini-itinerary already mapped out. Unintentionally (or maybe intentionally on my mum’s part, crafty lady) we booked into the same hotel that Palin did, The Libertador Hotel. It was gorgeous, and just like one fifth of the Monty Python quintet, we settled down for a few days of soaking up Andean culture in the glorious city of Cusco. During this acclimation period we managed to cram in a substantial amount of site-seeing; in true Jeffery style of course. My diary informs me that we visited Coricancha and Santo Domingo- seeing Spanish churches with Incan ruins inside. We then ventured out of the city to Saqsaywaman (which I found hilarious because I kept calling it ‘sexy woman…’ May I remind you again, I was 14 and very juvenile) before moving on to Qenqo, which is the altar of Mother Earth, Chinchero to witness Peruvian Independence Day, Ollantaytambo to visit the Temple of the Sun, lunch in Urubamba and markets at Pisaq. Every single place was equally as fabulous as its Peruvian name, and before we knew it, it was our 4am wake-up call on Saturday 30th July 2005 for the bus ride to the beginning of the Inca Trail.
Peruvian Independence Day in Chinchero
The beautiful Cusco Town Square
Nerves, anticipation and excitement are the dominant emotions I remember feeling during that bus ride. Being only 14 at the time, I wasn’t really aware of what to make of the impending adventure. Obviously I was excited and knew it would be bloody tough, but I don’t think I was completely cognisant of its magnitude. On the bus we were joined by the other 14 people who would make up our wonderful trekking group and who we’d become dependent on for moral boosting and spirit lifting over the next 4 days. Every individual was so lovely. Majority were adults bar two 18 year olds, Jack and Tom, who were embracing the gap yahhh experience before heading off to University. As we all piled off the bus we were met by an array of smiling Peruvian men who were to be our porters. Their job was pretty unfathomable to us- they basically strapped tents, camping and cooking equipment and any excess luggage we couldn’t manage to their backs and ran (yes RAN!) ahead of us to the designated campsites to prepare everything before we stopped for the night. Running the Inca Trail alone seems incomprehensible, but running it with a considerable weight strapped to your back, whilst smiling the entire time was just insane. One of the guys even played the panpipes as he went by, and he was 72!
The Urubamba River
Day 1 walking
So yes, we met those lovely gentlemen, and were shortly on our way, taking our first steps on the sacred Incan land and being enveloped by supple mountains and expansive vistas. Day 1 started off nice and steady, majority flat and walking parallel with the Urubamba River before stopping for lunch in a little village near the Patallacta ruins (I would recommend googling these places I mention because the views really are stunning.) The porters were also in charge of making sure lunch was prepared and warm for our arrival- I really can’t praise these guys enough. After a long day of walking, which I shamelessly admit had worn me out completely- the 16 of us trekked up to clearing to see an oasis of ice cold, glistening glasses of coca-cola. We then sat down for lunch in a huge marquee and were served an impressive spread of mainly carb-based foods. It makes sense, we needed all the energy we could gather, food induced or otherwise. Before we knew it, the remainder of the day’s walk was completed and we were at our first campsite under the stars at the base of Dead Woman’s Pass. Good lord it sounds ominous doesn’t it.
Looking up to Dead Woman’s Pass
I love camping, but I can’t lie- that night was not a comfortable night’s sleep in any shape or form. Due to the undulating terrain, the tents were placed on a gradual slope which resulted in me continually sliding into my brother throughout the night. It was also -2 degrees Celsius and no ‘4 season’ tagline sleeping bag will keep you toasty when you’re in a tent in the Andes at -2, and when you have circulation as hopelessly inept as mine you don’t stand a chance. Sure enough though, we were all lulled into an exhaustion-induced slumber for at least a couple of hours before the sun rose over the voluptuous Woman.
The look down at the top of Dead Woman’s Pass
Andean camping
Day 2- a 6am start and pancakes for breakfast. Unbeknownst to the group, day 2, aka Dead Woman’s Pass, was going to be the hardest day. We were going to climb to the highest altitude above the clouds and we were going to be knackered and short of breath the entire day- it’s actually a good job we weren’t aware of the physical strain we were about to endure or morale and 80s club classics singing may not have been so jovial that morning. After a plethora of pancakes slowly started to thaw me out, we were suited (in the ever-so stylish zip off cargo trousers,) booted and ready to tackle the enormous pass that was casting the ever impending shadow over us. My diary informs me that day 2 consisted of 10 hours of walking up to about 4,200m, which is around 14,000ft. The incline got steeper and steeper, occasionally requiring us to use our hands to haul ourselves up the mountain, and the air was thinning considerably with every step. It’s a bizarre sensation, feeling less and less oxygen as you’re practically trying to drink the air in at every available breath. I vividly remember my dad and I walking 20 steps and stopping for 2 minutes before walking 20 more steps and repeating this for a good 2 hours in an attempted to climb up the ever growing mountain ahead of us. My family and I were incredibly lucky not to suffer from altitude sickness but unfortunately the two gap yearers were struck badly. No extreme level of fitness can keep altitude sickness from striking, it’s a complete lottery- except this time the prize is vomiting and an upset stomach- not a ridiculous tonne of money. Unfortunate. The lads however, soldiered on valiantly, and with enough 80s club classics singing, clapping, cheering and chanting, us 16 bedraggled, exhausted and breathless trekkers arrived at our lunch time destination with time to spare (which turned our was supposed to be our campsite for the night) only to be greeted with the exhausting news of “you guys have done so well we are going to send you on the further advanced route!!” Shit. More walking. Another pass to climb over. Another bloody Dead Woman’s physique carved into the mountains to get across. But our exhaustion and feigned objection was soon dissipated by a certain smugness. A smugness knowing that we’d completed the hardest day of the Inca Trail in an alarmingly impressive pace- and using this to pick up our spirits, exhausted legs, and breath beaten lungs, the 16 of us strode out on our next conquest.
Family at the top of Dead Woman’s Pass
Above the clouds at Dead Woman’s Pass
The second night’s campsite was considerably higher than the night prior, and was therefore considerably colder. For the rest of my life, I will always remember 2:15am on night 2 of the Inca Trail as my brother, wonderful chap that he is, went to the toilet at this time, leaving the icy tent door (a large amount of ice I’d like to add) unzipped and blowing a -5 degree breeze directly onto me, for him then to return 10 minutes later, shining a head torch in my face as asking if I fancied a quick game of Uno. Don’t get me wrong- Uno is great, and I’m certainly a boss at it, but at 2.15am in the middle of the Andes at -5 degrees, there are very very VERY few things that would motivate me to get up. Justin Timberlake being one of them. So therefore, my second night’s sleep wasn’t much better than the first, but again, we all woke up in great spirits and excitement for the next challenge. If I’m honest, when you’re surrounded by breath-taking views (quite literally, the altitude was even worse on this night) it’s near impossible to be in a negative mind-set. I don’t remember any occasion where anyone got angry/pissed off/snappy with each other. I think that’s a pretty good accomplishment in itself.
The wonderful 16 at the top of Dead Woman’s Pass
One of the dining tents
Day 3- Javier (our lovely little Peruvian guide) took us on a much less travelled route in the morning where we got our first glimpse of the lost city of Machu Picchu in the valley below. Scaling the top of the valley, we suddenly started to descend into a sub-jungle/tropical forest area where majority of the adults were bitten to shit! I however, am not sweet meat to the picky Peruvian insects and they therefore had no interest in my overly pale skin. Ahh well! As our Day 2 walk was so extensive, covering a lot more distance than we initially intended, we descended into our final campsite at about 1:30pm on this day. I remember it being such a relief actually. Getting up at 6am to start walking at 7am for around 9/10 hours does take its toll! As we arrived at the final campsite, our wonderful porters had run ahead (of course they had, the little magical people that they are!) and all clapped and welcomed us into the site with traditional Peruvian music. I felt rather important if I’m honest. Arriving early gave us a chance to have a shower (yup, all walking and no showers makes Hannah go crazy) and relax. Sam, Tom, Jack and I played copious amounts of Uno and basked in the Peruvian sunshine on our little campsite plateau before evening festivities commenced. With it being the last night, our team of 16 organised a little ceremony to thank the porters and guides for all they’d done. They, in unnecessary return, laid on an absolute feast that was a work of art. Sticks of cucumber had been cut into swans (with carrot carvings attached at beaks,) beetroot had been sculpted into flowers and tomatoes into waterlillies. We devoured the whole thing in an impressively short time however, and soon enough more thank yous were flowing followed by a few tears, hugs and singing. It’s wonderful how close people can get in just a few days when they all share something in common. But alas! The well-mannered frivolity couldn’t last too long as we were up at 4:00am to do a 2 hour trek in complete darkness in order to reach the Sun Gate in time for the sunrise over Machu Picchu.
Part of the walk on Day 3
Our magical porters
Day 4- Up in darkness, head torch attached to face, and off we go for a ‘night’ trek to the Sun Gate in Inti Punku. We made it past a few checkpoints and finally reached the Sun Gate with the beautiful city of Machu Picchu below us, waiting to be bathed in sunlight. This was emotional. It was the time when everyone congratulated each other for completing something of such magnitude. It was everyone’s backstory that made the journey that much more wonderful though; my dad had broken his neck the year before and was hospitalised for a few months, undergoing various operations and procedures that left him with titanium plates, bolts and screws in his neck (he really is such a hero and warrior), our friend Rob suffered a heart attack a few years before, Sarah and Penny felt they were both in a rut and needed something to shake their lives up, and Judith and Peter had recently become grandparents and felt they wanted to prove that age was purely just a number. All these reasons made the accomplishment that much more worthwhile and there is not a single moment I would change about that trip. Everything was perfect. I look back on it with great pride and a wonderful sense of achievement, I’m also pretty chuffed that I managed to complete such an accomplishment at the age of 14.
The 16 of us at Machu Picchu
Machu Picchu is nothing like the photos you see online. The sheer scale of the city and the undulating vistas surrounding it are not conveyed even remotely on something inadequate like Google. The photos included in this post don’t even do it justice, but being there it’s easy to see why it’s been deemed one of the 7 Modern Natural Wonders of the World.
Waiting at the train station, ready to go back to Cusco after finishing the trek
From Cambridge, UK to Cambridge, MA 