a life in words: the lost citadel

17th - 20th May 2012

Machu Picchu, Peru

An intense surge of adrenaline eclipsed my body as I was pushed off the cliff face. Spinning wildly around a single remaining life line in an uncontrollable suspended motion, my blurred vision shifted continuously from the clear blue sky above to the racing canopy of trees beneath my feet. The gorge I had jumped into became a stadium of light as purple fields of grass swayed in unity under the gasped release of a morning breeze; shifting the mountainside into a mass waving crowd that applauded my designed leap of faith.

On the third morning we caught a mini bus from Santa Teresa to a narrow gorge further up the valley where the opportunity to do some zip lining had presented itself for a further 90 Peruvian Soles. The exhilarating experience turned out to be a very well spent $30 and gave me a rush like no other. Gearing up in the harnesses and helmets, a brief 20 minute hike up to the roof of the valley brought us to the first zip lining platform which rested precariously on the precipice of a mighty high cliff face. Looking into the distance, six taut steel cables zigzagged their way back and forth across the ravine we had just climbed and we spent the morning chucking ourselves into this valley of light; swooshing through the air with reckless abandon and fearless intent. Each cable varied in both length and inclination meaning that the shorter steeper lines (150 metres approx.) tended to be a lot faster whereas the longer cables stretched to 500 metres and were taken at a much more leisurely pace allowing one to truly take in the remarkable vistas of the valley from a normally unattainable viewpoint. Predictably the hour passed very quickly but the rush I got from throwing myself into the valley lasted for the rest of the day all the way to the Machu Picchu base camp of Aguas Calientes.

By midday we were eating lunch at a small restaurant that rested next to an ugly hydroelectric power station but despite the rusty fences which scarred the valley it was exciting to acknowledge that we were now a mere 15 km from Machu Picchu. In a stroke of bizarre luck, the small restaurant we stopped at had a massive flat screen television and we arrived on the 19th May just in time to catch the kick off for the Chelsea vs Bayern Munich Champions League final. Football at the base of Machu Picchu, now how about that for a bit of fine culture! To both my disgust and the German lads in the group, the scum took the title and we stormed off towards Machu Picchu in a huff that Drogba had darkened the day. While us Europeans had fallen back to watch the footie, the rest of the girls and the uninterested Yankies had set off after the first half as bizarrely they seemed to be more interested in the Sacred Valley than the football......beats me! We therefore had to play catch up and so set off at a quick pace along the train tracks which would lead us all the way to Aguas Calientes around three hours later. As we paced onto our final destination for the day, the last light soon left the valley leaving us to trace the silver snakes under the illumination of a moon which had recently assumed its twilight vigil in the night sky. When darkness had truly settled I kept noticing what looked like eyes glaring at me from the bushes. The eyes moved in the shadows creating phosphorescent trails of light which then moved from the bushes and flashed all around us. As the Dragon Flies flapped their explosive wings through the night air we plodded along until finally a clump of trees cleared to reveal the small lit up settlement of the Machu Picchu pueblo. The pace was rapid and unbelievably we arrived at Aguas Calientes at the same time as the first group who had set off about an hour before us back at the hydro station. A quick meal followed and I soon got myself to bed as we would be rising at 4am to head off up to MACHU PICCHU!

Although the hydroelectric power station was an eyesore the surrounding valley most certainly was not

Following the train tracks to Machu Picchu.

The bridges got bigger as the Urubamba got wider.

The Champions League crew in the sacred valley. Ants, Peter, Mo, Leonard and Me.

At 4am after waking up the Germans I was sharing a room with we all stumbled, dazed and confused, into the lobby of the hostel to join the rest of our weary but excited crew. Today was the day. The previous evening I had popped into town to buy some supplies as fairly predictably Hugo warned us that food and water were ten times the price up at the ancient ridge. And so with a bag full of snacks on my back, I followed Hugo for the last time towards the base of Machu Picchu while the moon yawned in the night sky. The dark road was humming with the enlivened chat of other early risers and despite my state of semi-consciousness, I started to become incredibly excited about the prospect of finally reaching my South American dream having planned and talked about it for so long. Showing my permit to the guard at the bridge, we all crossed over the twilight waters of the Urubamba and started to climb the stone steps towards the entrance of the ancient site. The early hour had introduced a sharp chill to the valley leading me to wrap up in a fleece and scarf before leaving the hostel but after about fifteen minutes climbing I started to regret my decision as the exertion of ascending each step removed the coldness from my limbs and left me in a pool of perspiration. Eager to be near the front when the gates opened, I pushed on ahead despite Hugo's request for everyone to stick together and pretty much jogged all the way to the top reaching the entrance about 40 minutes later absolutely drenched in sweat. At 6am the site opened its doors and being the second person in the queue - which had grown substantially since I had first arrived - I once again ignored Hugo and ran up the gravel pathway while everyone fussed about at the entrance. I kept on climbing for a few more turns and finally came out upon a panoramic platform where I was confronted by the full scale of Machu Picchu which spread out before me; resplendent in its ancient magnificence. Mesmerized by this magical city which was free of the mass crowds that would soon suffocate it, I stood alone in the early morning light savoring the untouched silence of the lost citadel. Where I stood a vertiginous ridge stretched towards the centre of the valley until it rose to form the mighty granite Huayna Picchu which dominated a meander in the river Urubamba. A jagged row of peaks surrounded the Sacred Valley and I watched the sun desperately trying to peek through the cracks in the world; sending spies ahead of him to mark out a road through the darkness. After a few minutes the granite hillside was soon set alight in a blaze of glory as the sun finally breached the jagged doorway and a modern day cast its first gaze on an ancient land. Thousands upon thousands of miles had been driven and flown across to get me here and although the initial beauty of the site was not lost on me, in a sense I was blinded by the enormity of the moment. It was not until a few days later that I was able to frame my thoughts properly about what I had seen and upon reflection those precious few moments where I enjoyed the sole company of Machu Picchu while the sun rose to the East, will stay with me forever. It's moments like these that have defined this trip and although I said in a previous post that 'people make places', seeing Machu Picchu illuminated at the break of dawn 'made' South America for me.

I spent about nine hours at the site after Hugo had given us a brief and not very informative guided tour and although I would have really liked to learn more about the mysterious history behind Machu Picchu, I was happy enough to just stroll through the narrow alleyways taking the impressive appearance of it all in. Although I didn't get to go up Huayna Picchu peak (the large mountain that rises at the back of all the photographs) as they only allow 400 people up there a day, I did take a walk up to the Sun Gate (which gave amazing panoramic vistas of the city from the South West) and skirted the precarious pathway that curled around the cliff face to the perilous Inca door. Both of which were mighty impressive. When I was exhausted from all the walking, I sat down on one of the Inca-crafted grassy terraces and enjoyed the sunshine which beat down upon a glorious day in the Sacred Valley to end my Machu Picchu adventure.

Hasta luego Machu Picchu. It was an honour.