You've probably heard of the Inca Trail. It's one of a few long paths that the Inca's used to get to Machu Picchu. It's also incredibly busy, very expensive and requires six-months notice if you want to walk along it. Any of which would've been sufficient reason not to do it.
So I looked for an alternative. There are other Inca trails, but they all end in the service town for Machu Picchu - and who wants to walk for four days only to arrive at a train station? Well, okay, lots of people apparently. But not me.
I'd heard of another site, an alternative Machu Picchu, as important to the Incas and as big as the big MP. But it was only rediscovered in the '70s and so remains only 30% uncovered. The rest is in the cloud forest. But the only way to get there is to walk for two days down and up a 1.5km-deep canyon and so it remains unpopular.
It's called Choquequirao and it sounded perfect.
It turned out that my friends Marina and Sigurd wanted to go too. (I went climbing with them in La Paz - at some point photos will appear on here, but in the meantime you can see
Marina's.) So did Frank.
[Apologies if you find this post goes into extraordinarily tedious detail - but the only information I could find about this hike suggests you need to return the same way you go in - and so I hope the information about this much better option might become useful to somebody one day... I'll put the excessively dull parts in italics. Or you can just look at the photos if you like...]
Marina and Sigurd arrived; we went shopping, ate ceviche in the market, looked unsuccessfully for a useful map and packed our bags ready for an early morning bus towards Cachora [bus to Ramal Cachora - get one towards Abancay, or convince Lima-bound buses to let you off - followed by S/.5 colectivo to Cachora where the tourist office can give you a usable map].
We walked past a cow doing a perfect impression of a donkey and were soon delighted we had decided to come. Except Frank, who was feeling sick and wasn't delighted that he had decided to come. It was proving impossible not to anthropomorphise the animals - least of all these horses having a conference, probably about whether their friend had survived the fall.
The path cut a perfect line along the steep hillside...
But soon the sun was going down and we realised we weren't going to make it to the river. Not least because we had to keep stopping and taking photos like these:
We arrived at a campsite and started to cook while Frank tried to sleep off his sickness. He failed and so decided to turn back the next morning. And so it was a bit solemnly that we started again. But you can't stay solemn for long with the beautiful scenery we were enjoying...
We got to the river where we hoped we'd find mules to carry our bags up the 1,500m-high hill. But there were no mules, and so we started our merry way up the hill, four-days of food, tents and stove on our backs. But the months we had spent at altitude in Bolivia were reaping their reward: the river was at only 1,500m and the air was thick. We soon overtook a group of retiree marathon runners who had mules to carry their bags, porters to put up and take down their tents and a chef to cook their meals.
We eventually reached the entrance to Choquequirao, bizarrely situated a 90-minute walk from the site. On the way, we stopped to drop off our bags and positively ran the last 30-minutes enjoying the weightlessness. We arrived and crossed a seemingly-endless terrace to find the site deserted. This is what we came for. So we climbed to the flattened mountain-top (that respect of nature again) to enjoy the view and the wine we had dragged up with us. While Marina posed, I unleashed my inner hobo:
The river twists like a ribbon far below at the bottom of a valley so steep you can easily convince yourself it's not there. A little too easily...
We went back to set up our tents before it got dark to find we'd be sharing the campsite with the luxury campers we had overtaken earlier. And they were noisy.
The following morning, Sigurd and Marina had been struck by the same sickness Frank had been suffering from. And so, while they lay on the plaza, I went exploring, following water channels into the cloud forest. I climbed and climbed, and Choquequirao continually came back into sight.
I came across a path and started following it, reasoning that it must lead somewhere. Twenty minutes later, I realised I had found the beginning of the 6-day hike to Machu Picchu. So I sat on the edge of rock to enjoy the view and watch the condors before turning back.
I returned an was sent away again, with Marina's far-superior camera, to take photos of the terraces, the only ones anywhere in the world that contain art.
S&M's (hehe) illness meant we decided to stay another night. So, after we had eaten and they had gone to bed, I decided to walk back to the city. As I walked through the pitch-dark cloud forest, scenes from every horror film I'd seen flashed before my eyes, and I convinced myself a secret cult would be holding a meeting in the plaza. But my reasonable side forced me to continue. But just as I arrived, I saw some tiny flashes of light coming from all directions, looking for all the world like the communications of a secret cult warning the others of an intruder and, possibly, planning how best to sacrifice him.
But after further investigation (thanks to one stationary light from a lightworm) I realised they were fireflies. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued. I arrived disappointed to see the almost-full moon behind thick cloud, but I could still make out the shape of the buildings, stairs and walls. I found a nice spot in a wall and sat down and after half an hour, the clouds parted and the whole city was bathed in the ghostly light of the moon. After another hour, I realised that the nook in the wall that I was sitting in was the same as the ones I had seen at other sites and that were used to put the mummies of former kings when celebrations were taking place. I decided to leave.
The next morning, we headed out towards Huanipaca [the path goes directly out of the bottom terrace of the campsite]. It's a steep descent towards the river and we went slowly thanks to my heavy rucksack and S&M's continued sickness.
We reached the river, crossed the bridge, and swam and washed where the luxury campers were again ruining the tranquility. The path goes just as steeply up the other side, and we arrived at an ex-hacienda where we
shared our most expensive bottle of coke and I finished off the luxury camper's lunch. Huanipaca has the advantage of being much lower than Cachora, so the return to Cusco is theoretically possible in one day - but you need to arrive in time to catch get a car back to the main road before the last bus passes. And no cars wait at the nearest bit of road, so you need to call for one to collect you from Huanipaca itself, an hour away. So I went ahead to order a taxi.
To cut a long story short, we didn't make it. I did get very angry and swore at mountains when it became apparent our map was a big lie - the village isn't exactly where the road starts, but 3 kilometers further along, past an unmarked junction (turn left - I found out the hard way). But eventually I arrived at Villa Los Loros where I was told I'd be able to call the cab. Except, as Marco, the friendly Italian owner patiently explained, that was also a lie. But he knew where there was a man with a car who'd take us to Huanipaca [S/.35 for three of us] and so I went in hunt. I got back to find S&M relaxing on his grass and we set off to spend a night in delighful (not really) Huanipaca, where a speaker on the church calls out adverts, the people call you gringito and only one of the four 'restaurants' has any food. Early the next morning it was all over - a two hour drive in a shared cab [S/.15pp I think] to the main road where we hailed the first passing bus to take us back to Cusco.
[If you're thinking of doing the same, I suggest you either book a taxi to take you all the way back to Cusco - have him meet you a Villa Los Loros where you can have a drink while you wait. If you leave the Choquequirao
campsite early in the morning, and you're fit and want to do it quickly, you can arrive by 3pm easily. Or, just accept you'll spend a very cheap night in Huanipaca. Incidentally, Marco also gave us the best map we saw - and it's available on : his website].
