Inca Trail: Day Four
06/22/10
They say it is the person with the shifty eyes you should watch out for. As a result of waking up at 3:30 a.m. after four nights without sleep, I resembled Mr. Potato Head high on speed, constantly changing my snap-on eyes, and therefore, I was afraid of my own reflection.
Looking in the mirror after another bathroom balancing act, the face was somehow familar, but I could not quite remember my name. I looked like a waffle after someone tried flattened it with an iron: my face awkardly shaped by being pressed up against a tent on one side, and rocks on the other. I was so confused, each time someone asked me a question, I felt like taking off my shoes or randomly pointing at their noses.
Packing up my bag confused me even more, leaving me to feel like a lama being asked a math question. Pure exhaustion. I felt a small balloon wrap around my entire skull, which later made the sound of a whoopie cushion, until I realized the boiled water was giving me the farts. My entire face felt ball-skin loose, but with more wrinkles, as I attempted to pack up quickly for the porters who had to hike out in darkness to catch a 5 a.m. train.
In every way, from having shifty, Mr. Potato Head eyes to a waffle -ironed face, the only thing I could not figure out was why there was not a Ribatron-don action figure. As you can clearly read, my mind was elsewhere, making this post written from pure jibberish, as if I was drawing hand signals instead of words in my notebook.
After breakfast, we began our hike at 4:40 a.m. with a massive maze of stars overhead. Our flashlights dotted up and down the trail. My nipples were doing just fine. We walked a short distance waiting for the Winaywayna Control Point to open, listening to the sound of the river running and Boxie-boo shivering in my arms. By 5:40 a.m., the sun began to rise. It was a sight that seemed set from a great power, the gods playground, where the mountains seemed to still grow, set from sky planted seeds, sprinkling across the skyline’s green skeletal glow, blending almost too perfectly with light blue skies and a sea blue that darkened with distance.
Making our way to Intipunku, The Sun Gate, I lead the way out front until Valeriano caught up, jogging passed me. Feeling about as energetic as sloth after a labotomy, I made another stupid decision and decided this was my opportunity to try to keep up him. Even pass him.
Picture a hound dog puppy slipping on over-sized ears. Cute right?
That is how I ran, along a cliff edge, chasing Valeriano passed hikers, climbing steeps staircases with my arms up as if they ladders. I could hear the Urubamba river foaming, the trail being pounded by my feet, the dust and pebbles falling over a wide chasm of steep cliffs, thousands of meters down. I sounded as though I was coming up for air with each breath, my legs flailing out, body sideways, even running alongside the left wall to pass fellow hikers. My skin crawled with the tension of competition, the leaves speeding behind us on the trail.
My shoes continued spitting brown powder. Leaves flashed from the corner of my eyes. Branches snapping. I managed not to poop myself.
By the time we reached Intipunku, I was within a couple meters of Valeriano, who attempted to give me a high five. I missed, then went to slap my thigh instead for balance, and missed, flailing my arm aimlessly between my legs as if mimicking my own balancing equipment. My pulse was throbbing in my neck. I felt nothing but my backpack straps and my own sweat. He pointed to Machu Picchu. His smile was stripper friendly.
“Yes,” I said, my voice slurring out of breath. I could barely see and I was one dead cat away from a country song.
When Boxie-boo arrived, I felt her presence more than saw her. It was the first time, and only time, I went on without her on the hike briefly. She seemed to be walking through a mist, the low-level clouds filling the Sun Gate with unseen moisture, like walking through a watery shadow. Her voice was light with innocence, as she touched the hair curling my neck. I wanted to freeze time. Something felt right in the universe. We were a short hike away from our destination, Machu Picchu, a feeling of great accomplishment I will never forget.
Valeriano led the way out front, taking us to a better viewpoint, where we watched the sun slowly illuminate the lost city of the Incas.
After a four-day, three-night Inca Trail hike, we had finally made it to Machu Picchu.
The curtains closed. A tremor on impact. Machu Picchu had exorcised my demons.
Looking at this ancient city, it resembled the beginning of the world, where light and shadow moved down the mountains to the tempo of music. Locals in white gowns sang to the rising sun, nearby grazing lamas. The trees gleamed like polished silver, leaving me lost in this setting, until my infatuation with the ancient world broke my trance. In this moment, when I thought of nearing the end of our trip, of returning home to a normal life, I was sad. With each step into Machu Picchu, I felt crowds of people walking over my grave.
When we arrived to the lost city, it had been 99 years since Machu Picchu was “officially” discovered. I say “officially” because history seems to only recognize discovery when something is seen by a westerner. In actuality, the American Hiram Bingham was shown Machu Picchu by a local Peruvian named Melchor Arteaga. An area where Bingham saw families were living, is now where the hotel now resides. Instead of giving the discovery title to those that deserve it, the 4,000 treasures found at Machu Picchu are still in the United States at Yale University, yet to be returned, according to Valeriano.
“The truth is - the the first discoverers were the local families,” he said. “The treasures belong to Peru.”
But why did the Spaniards never find the ruin?
When the Spanish began conquering Peru, the Inca leaders ordered their people to destroy sections of their trails to confuse the Spaniards. “Thankfully,” Valeriano said. “The Spaniards would have destroyed it.”
Machu Picchu was built in the middle of mountains for many reasons, Valeriano said. It allowed the religious monument to be hidden, it was nearby many ecological zones to provide everything it needed to be a self-sufficient community, year-round the vegetation was green and growing -and it has a natural spring for water. Machu Picchu was built from granite rock from its own mountain (Machu Picchu Mountain), the roof made from valley trees and the grass from the nearby highlands. Ancient Incas were able to grow everything from peanuts to beans, to jungle potatoes and tomatoes.
After four days of hiking, our pace slowed down as Valeriano showed us to the Temple of the Sun (above). The structure´s original sections were smooth, completed with perfectly fitted stones, while reconstructed walls looked rough, more like stacked rocks. The building, a tower in shape, had two windows - one set for the winter solstice sunrise, the other for the summer solstice. The tomb inside was found empty by archaeologists. Historians now believe the Incas removed their mummies after the arrival of the Spaniards. Inside, animals were once sacrified, same as the Inti Raymi festival we were set to visit in Cusco.
Nearby, we passed the Temple of the Water. In total, Machu Picchu had 16 fountain, but one fountain (above) in particular, was only used for religious pruposes.
Out front of the Temple of the Condor, it was easy to spot the Incas artwork, outlining two giant wings through natural rocks, with stone work on the ground to represent the head. In Inca belief, the condor carried the mummies to the spiritual world. Lamas were sacrificed over the face, Valeriano said, while locals offered coca leafs. The condor, as Valeriano put it, was the “Messenger between the Earth and spiritual world.” Entering inside the tomb was eerie, the feel and smell of cooling stone. I was quiet, ancient, a walk through time. Respectful while non-believing, I left an offering of coca leaves to follow in tradition.
Hiking the stairs to the botanical gardens, I felt 15 months pregnant, but with more belly button lint. By the time we arrived at the top, I was keen to relax, though admittedly uninterested in the garden. We saw passion fruit, jungle potatoes, the infamous coca plant and many orchids, before passing by the Temple of Three Windows, named as such by Bingham, because there were three windows. What a genius. Nearby, was a stone structure shaped by three steps on either side, flattened across the top. It was interesting, not for its shape, but for its meaning. The top section represented light and angels; the middle represented the people; the bottom represented the under world. The shape continued below the surface, an opposite Valeriano said, represented the dark side of everything.
We had climbed to the top, a sight where the ancient altar stood, now bending in one corner. We could see the early artwork, where Incas mimicked the neighbouring mountain range with stone. From up top, we looked down into the Sacred Plaza, an open area, which held a natural echo, portrayed by the clapping of Valeriano´s hands. Down below, festivals and parties were held, when less than a 100 years earlier, it was covered in jungle bush.
Boxie-boo found herself fascinated with the Intiwatana stone (above), arguably Machu Picchu´s most famous piece, accessed by a 78-step staircase. On one side, we spotted three steps carved out of the granite, centered by a polished monolith, consisting of flat surfaces. The structure served two purposes - measuring time (solstice and equinox) and serving as altar where animals were sacrified. Each of its corner direct to the four points of a compass.
The Intiwatana stone was able to determine the beginning and end of the harvest cycle, including the most important date - the winter solstice (June 21), the original date of Inti Raymi, until it was changed to June 24th. On that day, the sun is at its farthest from the Earth. The Incas were afraid the sun would abandon them. Their festival was held to lure the sun back, to guarantee another year´s harvest.
“People believe the rock has a powerful energy,” Valeriano said. Victor walked over, held his hand over the rock, then began pop-and-lock dancing, then appeared to be electricuted.
“It does,” he said, as we all laughed.
Unfortunately, part of the stone was broken while filming a beer commercial. Valeriano would not tell us which one.
With time to kill and train that did not leave until 9:45 p.m., Boxie-boo and I headed to the town Aguas Calientes and capped of the day walking through markets, relaxing and giving our legs a much needed break.
That´s all for now.
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