Day Five: The Finale. Good News.Bad News...

"Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive” 

― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

First the Good News: We would be culminating our pilgrimage via the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. 

The Bad News: This would require a 3 am wake up call. (Yes, we paid a lot of money to do this!) We needed to be packed, swallow breakfast and be on the move (muy rapido) in order to wait in line until 5:30 am. That's the time of the opening bell for Machu Picchu. Fortunately, we had really fast pilgrims on our team. We were in gate position number three among the dozen plus tour groups. 

So we waited, and waited in the dark and damp in close quarters with shadowy strangers and 19 acquaintances. Conversations were muted or whispered. Most of us tried to nap while leaning up against our packs or fellow travelers. I laughed to myself thinking this situation would be a dictionary example of the term, "hurry up and wait." 

At about first light, we were called up to a window one by one. Our ticket was presented to an Machu Picchu official who materialized out of the vapors. We had our clearance. Next stop - the Sun Gate. 

It was an uphill hike with a few wonderful glimpses of Mother Nature's pretty profile. Oliver (the lone Canadian in our group) and I passed between two twin pillars (the Sun Gate) and looked down and to the right. 

There it was, the iconic Machu Picchu view.

Seconds later the sun came out to infuse light and shadows for some impromptu special effects. Clouds welled up from the valley below playing hide and seek with the ruins. I looked about at the gathering crowd and all I saw were exhausted yet smiling faces. Once again handshakes, hugs, kisses, congratulations and back slaps were doled out. I was damn pleased to be there at that moment. 

We relished the scene until reality set in. Our guides relayed the game plan on where to meet at the site itself. Once again we would have to show our passports and a ticket to gain entry to this UNESCO World Heritage Centre. 

So down we went into a growing storm of humanity who were fresh off the buses and tourist trains. Me and my fellow journeymen and women weren't fresh at all. I for one was feeling overripe from the days of dirt, toil and lack of a warm shower. Maybe this is the way to create space in a soon to be crowded place. 

It took awhile before everyone was moving in the same direction. Maybe we were feeling the lack of sleep, sparse breakfast or plain old weariness. Maybe all the above. 

Once inside, Alex morphed into an Inca History/Machu Picchu professor. We obediently followed him from one unique section to another. Stories, names, historical significance and of course the Incas brilliant methods of marking the solstices were expounded upon. 

As the day got warmer, I got hungrier. At the top of where the solar observatory was located, I began to break out in a frigid sweat accompanied by an out of touch feeling. I knew the big pass out was only moments away. No Bueno. I sat down before I flopped down. 

I explained my plight to my new found buddies. From the creases and nooks in their day packs a few energy bars and chocolate chunks were found. They generously gave them to me. I ate. I felt better double quick time. They were my heroes. 

Alex's walking tour continued to a final question and answer period. 

"Are there any questions about Machu Picchu? 

Maria who up to this point kept a pretty low profile piped up, "Yeah! When do we eat?" 

See? I wasn't the only one.

By the time we dined, drank a few beverages, boarded a train and a bus and were dropped off at our Cuzco hotel it was 8:30 pm. We had been up for over 17.5 hours. We were spent.

On the bright side, we had all successfully completed the Machu Picchu Ultra-marathon. 

It was one for the books. It was a great experience. 

Cheers to all,

Jeff

 

Musings and mutterings about a String Bean Shaped Country...

"What a long strange trip it's been." Grateful Dead

Remember way back when? From my original blog about Chile: 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.cl/2015/12/chile-today_16.html

Hell! I wasn't even supposed to be here! 

Well, I was here for six plus weeks. I think about this journey in two distinct segments. The W L time (with Lisa) and the WO L time (without Lisa). 

During the W L time I had an intelligent English speaking companion to share my many thoughts and rants with. She'd laugh at my vocalized frustrations concerning this foreign land we found ourselves in. "How hard would it be to put up a freaking sign pointing to a National Park?" 

When I dropped her off a few weeks ago, I experienced loneliness. Now I'm the kind of guy who prides himself on being comfortable in his own skin. In the States, I can go weeks without a real conversation and it won't bother me. Here it bothered me. The difference? I know what's going on around me in my own country. I understand the language.

In Chile, I felt like I was always walking through the famous Star Wars I bar scene. The one featuring Hans Solo with lots of aliens jabbering away around him. In Chile, that was my life minus the English subtitles. I was in a communication void. Chileans don't Habla Ingles a lot. In the course of the WO L period, I had two real talks with two couples from Europe. That's it. The rest of the time I smiled a lot and pantomimed if my limited Espanol wasn't working. It hardly ever did. 

Even the mundane act of going into a restaurant was challenging. I would sit down at an empty table in an empty restaurant. (I ate at Gringo plus hours, about 7:30 to 8:00). Eventually a waitperson would saunter over. I would ask to see a menu in Spanish. Blank look. I would then pantomime eating. Blank look II. Then I would switch to English and start to quietly rant. "Oh this must be the business where I can purchase a block heater for my Ford Van or maybe refill my blood pressure medicine prescription?" For some reason, this worked. I scored a menu. 

Don't get me wrong. You would be hard pressed to discover a kinder, gentler and more easy going people than the Chileans. They are obviously generous, family oriented and friendly. They just don't speak a lot of North American and I don't speak a lot of South American. It's my problemo not theirs. 

My social scene and Happy Hour consisted of a few mediocre brews and my Kindle app. I've read four books in two weeks. 

Enough about me. What about Chile?

First off, this Skinny Country is beautiful, complete with 18 million pretty nice people. (See above). It's almost twice the size of Montana. 

Most folks live along the Central Valley corridor and the Pan American Highway. This stretches north and south of Santiago. There's 5.1 million people in the capital city. On December 12th, we arrived in Santiago and quickly departed. I returned today and will leave in the early morning. My neighbor is the airport.  

Chile's economy is based upon what comes from below the earth (mining) and what grows on top of the earth, (forest products and foodstuffs). The fisheries industry is big too.Tourism is not a main driving force here. It's pretty much a Blue Collar Country. 

Most foreigners are like me and search out the protected areas of National Parks and National Reserves. If you are used to U.S National Parks along with its infrastructure, you might be disappointed like I was on occasion. Many of the parks are in name only. Access to them is extremely limited. Even the most famous ones have crappy roads and a limited  trail system. Getting a map when you pay your entry fee is problematic. I discovered if I made a real sorrowful look when they said "No mapa," one would materialize out of a drawer. 

Chile is now a politically stable country. It wasn't always like this. It was sort of a pick up the morning newspaper to see who's in charge country. The U.S backed a few less than stellar leaders-like Pinochet. I'm not proud of this. 

Maybe this is why there's so many low skilled menial workers seen everywhere. It keeps the populace from rebelling I suppose. It's not uncommon to see seven dudes milling around four gas pumps to pour product into your thirsty vehicle. The national average income is half what Americans take home. 

Chileans smoke a lot more than Americans too. 37% compared to 24%. The irony is they live longer than us. Go figure. 

I'll end this long post with a few questions to my readers. I'm all ears if anyone knows the answers. 

Why do Chileans believe their modern plumbing systems won't handle TP? I refused to participate in a possible local cholera outbreak by placing wads into nearby wastebaskets. OK, call me an Ugly American for this. 

Why do the Carabineros (National Police Force) drive around 24/7 with their emergency lights flashing? How was I supposed to know if I was getting pulled over or if they received an urgent call about fresh donuts? They have wooden handled pistols attached to their belts by a string too. Barney Fife would love them. 

Why do Chileans consider Nescafé Instant Coffee to be the bomb? Juan Valdez and his mule are flopping in their graves. Come on Chile! Trade copper for real coffee in South America! 

Lastly, why did it take so long for summer to show its wonderful side in Chilly Chile? Oftentimes the difference between comfort and cold was merely a passing cloud or a shade tree. 

Chile is not a Third World country, just once in awhile it seems to be. I can say the same thing for parts of the USA too. Like the time I was bicycle touring along the Ohio River in Southern Illinois. I could swear I heard the unmistakable strains of "Dueling Banjos." I pedaled harder then. 

I'm off to Cusco, Peru manana. I'll start trekking the Inca Trail soon thereafter. 

This will likely be the last time I travel alone to a predominantly non-English speaking country. It makes me write long blogs. 

Goodnight from the airport,

Jeff

Day Four: It's a jungle out...

There.

After our bonus one hour of extra sleep, we woke feeling a tad human for a change. The pace seemed to be more relaxed too. Our guides didn't push us with that "Vamonos!" (Let's go!) Attitude which was so prevalent the previous days. In fact, our walk through the cloud forest would be just that - a mosey along to the next campsite. Rumor had it, our "being on the move" chores would be completed before lunch. We were scoring time off for good behavior! 

We heard positive descriptors about this stretch from our guides. It didn't take long before I realized they were spot on. Heaps of the original Inca Trail was what we trod upon. The route maneuvered through dense undergrowth and overgrowth. The choking foliage would have required a machete to plow through. I had a notion that if I stood still too long, the vegetation would steamroll right over me. It being the rainy season everything was slick, dewy and glossy. 

The Inca steps were scary though. A few descents were at a ladder setting angle (about 70%). What made it even more fearful though was the "rungs/stairs."  They were only 6"-8" wide. You descended by side stepping each one. A normal walk would have had you imitating the "Flying Wallendas" sans safety net. Imagine a head over bum free fall. A no Bueno moment for sure. It was quite apparent to me, there were no personal injury lawyers in the Inca Empire. Now that's an advanced civilization. 

En route we came across a terraced ruin overlooking the Urabamba River way down below. The scene was simply amazing for want of other adjectives. Nearby a male llama was hoping to "get lucky" with a female llama of his dreams. He gave chase, while she played hard to get. A South American "Animal Planet" moment for all us Peeping Toms to enjoy. 

After another group photo, we were all pleasantly seated at our campsite with lunch in front of us. The time? About 1:30 pm. Gasp! Free time! This was a concept I could handle.

Cheers from Florida, 

I hear an IPA calling my name.

Jeff