Continued from Yesterday June 30, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON
Back to the trekking part of our mission. This included our journey on the bus to the bus drop off for our hiking, lunch, sites along the way, dinner and settling into our overnight lodging to get a bit of rest before our Machu Picchu visit the next day: The long bus ride led us around some mountains that very much reminded me of those cartoons with a vehicle traveling around cliffs just wide enough to fit it. Dinner was included in the package. Our trek would consist of a 4-hour walk to Ollayantambo, which was closer to 5 hours.
The curiosity was spilling over from the Argentinian young ladies sitting near me during dinner. I was waiting for the questions to begin. I know we looked quite different from each other and I get it and I more so welcome the appreciation of my journey versus quiet presumptions. Certain questions appeared to be more the norm during the touristy parts of my journeys rather than during the volunteer portions, although I was questioned there as well. I am good with being the ambassador, to represent all the brown American girls that can be backpackers too, but admittedly it sometimes does get tiring. You know how people are individuals and what not but it’s nice to represent as well. It’s also nice to be admired and respected as well for having some adventure in your heart and it’s quite fun to gradually share unexpected answers with people, as they try to find clever ways to ask where you’re from, why you’re traveling, what you’ve done and as you let them know that yes, you know Spanish. Quite crafty to show up in places you weren’t necessarily expected to be, when you were not even trying to be crafty at all.
For some reason, when our guide got up to speak, there was a sigh with the boo, as I was saying, that’s how I came to think he was the less popular one. Again, how do you become lightweight heckle-worthy on the tour circuit, if you’re doing an okay to excellent job. I did feel at a disadvantage however, being in his smaller group and staying at the hotel that housed a smaller number of us. Don’t give me greater odds of getting separated from the group. Furthermore, don’t give me any secondary reasons to get confused such as we are going to meet at such and such a point the next day to continue our hike. Also, don’t tell me you will be giving me my train tickets back to the main part of city of Cusco, later on. I think, yes, I appreciate that I didn’t have the luxury of losing stuff. There was so much going on and the hike was rough and keeping my small amount of backpacked possessions was enough to handle but still this wasn’t like catching the bus to the DC metro station. Too many moving pieces.
A little about the 5ish hour walk to Ollayantambo. Granted this isn’t really a crazy amount of walking, but as I mentioned in my second to last blog, this was rainy season and there was no amount of straight flat paths or dry surfaces that made it any easier. Having an umbrella while walking/high stepping/sliding around was futile and, wow, was I cursing myself for deciding to leave my hiking books back in Pisco. I thought oh – this is for some future volunteer that could use them there. I could kind of really use them, still. We had the railroad tracks, steep hills and some dark tunnels that were lighted by flashlights from the group behind us. I promise there was a couple with a little girl that was faring so okay. Granted they hoisted her on their shoulders from time to time, but still she wasn’t sliding like me. I can laugh about that. I lightweight laughed about it then as well. It was encouraging.
As I was walking, I did question why I had chosen any trek. After all, I could directly travel to Machu Picchu via transportation that ended with a train up to the Lost City. However, I was taken by the various paths I had heard about from other volunteers including horseback riding, camping and hiking and I again stubbornly knew I wanted to be some part of that. Spiritually, naturally and humbly I also wanted to share some part of that energy that the Incans held. Of course, I am infinitely glad I did participate in this way. “The journey is the goal” is truth. I continued to learn a lot about myself and what I’m capable of, how much my self-pride could grow and how pain can, at times, birth pleasure.
I only missed out on the last little stretch the next morning. (I have to admit everything here). That is correct. I overslept a bit through meeting up with the Argentinian guys the next morning. I had overslept about an hour past the time I was going to meet them downstairs in the hotel. At first, I worried how much I had held them up. I hoped not long (I would find out later). I suppose the mental and physical journey to the hotel, battling with the rain and trying hard not to fall had taken a great deal out of me. Once I settled in my room that was basic, no frills but thankfully immaculate and hung my clothes over various spots to dry them out, I guess I had found myself pretty exhausted. The next fear that entered me was that I had came so far not to make it. Superstitiously, could it mean, maybe this time just wasn’t meant to be – somehow maybe those struggles meant something. I could come back. My last several thoughts were just crazy, quite simply!
Part of my paid package included the entrance tickets to Machu Picchu and the hotel staff comforted me that they were good for 3 days. I was relieved. The wheels started turning in my head, past my discouragement. I could do the rest of this alone, although I didn’t want to. I could pay for an extended stay and recuperate or what was the most readily alluring alternative: I could take one of the trains that was steadily making its way to the ruins. After all, hello, this is exactly the way that a lot of people get there, without trekking. They take trains to trains to buses, etc. and here everything was, just a bit away. I didn’t want to wait and why should I.
I went to the Machu Picchu trains, near my hotel, and figured out the schedule and procedure. Now, another part of my package included a guided tour around Machu Picchu. I was thinking I was about to miss out on a more detailed description, those special touches that only tour guides could add. Fortunately, there was a guide that offered his services. Additionally, I could catch the tail and front end of other guides’ narratives as I walked around (after having accepted his offer). I paid a fee but since there was an Argentinian couple looking to utilize his expertise as well, he connected us to one another and reduced the price. They were delightful. We walked around together, amazed at the remains of this civilization and I was absolutely struck how the Incans had persevered and thrived at this height, much to their conquerors’ dismay. Seeing the llamas and seeing the amazing structures within was unbelievable to me. I couldn’t have ever imagined the effect it was going to have on me in person. We finished our tour. The wife and I had lunch while her husband went to hike on the volcanic Mount Misty. She and I chatted, and she wrote her address and phone number in Argentina in the most lovely script and said I had a place to stay if I came to visit. I knew she meant it.
Now complete, how was I to get back, that is after taking the train back to Ollayantambo. How was I to get back to a group I had been separated from or at least just back on my own to central Cusco to continue my current volunteer life. I didn’t have those regional train tickets to get back to the point where our bus had dropped us – those ones the tour leader was going to give us later. Perhaps, the piecemealing had more to do with timing and maybe not all the people that start out together end up coming back together. Look at me, but hopefully they do that type of exploration on purpose. I also discovered later that some tour companies hadn’t even arranged round trips for their groups. So I was fortunate (or about to be very fortunate – as you will see).
I attempted purchasing train tickets back to the city, by venturing over to the regular train station. I wasn’t sure if that was exactly right. I also thought I should just be trying to get back to my bus and getting that already pre-paid ride back to Cusco’s main square.
Fortunately for me, as I was spouting off locales to the ticket agent, my original tour leader materialized and told her through the station window not to sell me that ticket. I looked up in instant recognition and with incredible relief. He said I have your train tickets here and he pulled them out. This would get me on the proper trip back to my bus. I was with him now and suddenly, of course, people started reappearing. There were the 3 Brazilian guys that had been separated out with me and a few other people on a separate bus. Also, there were the 2 Argentinian guys from the hotel that only a few of us had been assigned to stay in. They smiled. My reaction was oh my goodness, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. They smiled. They said no. So, we had all made it. I just didn’t get to hang out with any of those people. A bit sad and hilarious at the same time. It was nice to see them again. The Argentinian couple, I had met in Machu Picchu, had been stellar, so I was glad I got to meet them and now I was glad to be back with the people I had connected with before.
Everything seemed like it was going to be okay. I was chatting with the most vocal outgoing of the Brazilian guys. He was going deep into the theory that knowing Spanish meant I could understand all he was saying in Portuguese, but I thought no, no let’s use the language we have most in common – which turned out to be English. All seemed fine. Rainy overnight walk was done. I got to see the major site I had dreamed of, I got the train ride back to the bus with the others, but wait, there just had to be one more thing: There happened to be a landslide happening up ahead as our tour bus was taking us back around those mountainous cliffs. It could take us no further. There were vehicles stuck on the opposite side as well.
My friend suggested that we walk to see all that was happening. We did and he offered me his water, but I indicated mine, showing him that I was good. Actually, I was trying not to drink too much. You know why. We could see people from other vehicles had gotten out as well and were trying to remove the rocks with their hands. Our time was being lengthened. We got the notion to piggyback on one of the regional buses that was trapped on the opposite side as the best option for all vehicles came to be turning back. If you can’t get any further in your designated vehicle, then walk around the landslide/rubble to the other side in the direction you are traveling. It wasn’t safe for people to stay in that area. It wasn’t safe for any car, van or bus to try driving over that space either. Work needed to be done.
The Brazilian guys and I boarded “our new bus” and I noticed some other familiar faces too. There was the couple with the fearless little girl from the hike. We didn’t have tickets for this bus, unlike many of the other passengers so when the ticket collector approached, we paid our soles.
I don’t want to include much here of how I discovered the longest time I can maintain without going to the bathroom. I was so happy to see the regional bus terminal after many many hours. There was a lot of leg stretching going on. I could see the couple would take turns being in the aisle and keeping the little daughter surprisingly calm. She had some resolve. Her presence added to my own calm.
Fortunately, I made it back to central Cusco in one piece, late at night – having gotten a taxi with my new Brazilian acquaintances back to our current respective dwellings.
Those were the overall ups and downs of getting to the major tourist attraction and sacred Incan mainstay. The ups far outweighed the downs and in little time, the downs became amusing.
I’ll continue a little more soon with my experiences volunteering in Cusco at a school, working with under-served children and include just a bit of my downtime as well. Below I link to another blogger, a couple who recounts their amusing mishaps to dear Machu Picchu as well. Stuff happens.
Your time is always appreciated, and I hope to welcome you back soon!
Practical Wanderlust: Machu Picchu Failure on the Inca Trail