a bit more substantive
Sep. 29th, 2005 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jaeclecticDay 1 was mostly airplanes. All pretty smooth. The worst part was catching the shuttle from my place to OAK: the shuttle driver called my cell phone instead of ringing the doorbell, and I didn't hear it. And they left without me, without waiting for the 15 minutes that I waited before calling them. Mild panic ensued, but fortunately I had been going on the early side, so the next shuttle got me there in plenty of time.
Aside: I miss a lot of calls on my new cell phone. Must fiddle with the ring options some more...
Found my way through LAX and ended up sitting next to Jo Anne on the plane -- she had already met Annie because they took the same shuttle to LAX!
After 8 hours flying from LAX to Lima, I was happy to get to the hotel and collapse.
Day 2 started with another airplane, from Lima to Cusco. Since Cusco is at 11,000 feet, I definitely felt the altitude, but wasn't suffering much. The day's tour centered on the Inca temple (with a Spanish colonial church built on top of it), which I don't seem to have taken many pictures of, although that is where we saw these Peruvian girls.
Other than that, I believe I ate and slept. The food throughout the trip was great, BTW, and at this point I was sleeping fine, although that didn't last.
Day 3, on the bus. Travelled from Cusco to Yucay, with stops on the way for scenic views, a impressive weaving demonstration, and an outdoor market where I succumbed to the urge to buy more than one sample of the local wares.
Day 4, the dread rafting trip. I've been rafting a couple of times before, and I knew it could be fun (with the right people in the raft with you), but in this case I kept thinking that if I fell out of the raft and bashed my knee on a rock and couldn't walk, I'd be really pissed off. However, it turned out fine. The only person who fell in was Jim, who was in the other raft, and who proceeded to comment repeatedly "I came to Peru and swam the Urubamba River, none of the rest of you can say that!" (Sadly, I don't have a good picture of Jim, but he can be seen in various group shots -- he's standing next to me in this one, wherein you may observe that he is a full foot taller than I. But I kinda like him anyway.)
Later that day, we climbed a heap o' steps at Ollantaytambo, and were all reminded how thin the air was, since about 10 of those steps was enough to get one out of breath. Thus began our indoctrination in the way of the Inca Trail: stop often to catch your breath!
Day 5, after a visit to a local home and some last-minute shopping in Ollantaytambo village, we finally hit the trail. A pleasant afternoon's hike brought us to the first camping site, with our tents nestled between Incan terraces and a field plowed with bulls (sadly, I have no pictures of this, but I hope some will be shared by my fellow travellers -- Jim, Richard, Susan, and I were all up early and watched the plowing for an hour or so).
Aside: In general, the Peruvian countryside is full of animals. The farm adjacent to this campsite had turkeys, a pig, a cow. There were dogs everywhere we went -- the guidebook warned that you should throw rocks at the dogs, which might be rabid, but all the ones I saw were in the friendly to placid range. Any given hillside might have sheep, or goats, or llamas, or alpacas. Any given road might have donkeys, or horses, or cows, or bulls. Often completely unfenced and unattended.
Days 6 and 7 were the difficult trekking days (and therefore I took few pictures). Day 6 was about 7 miles with 4000 feet of elevation gain -- that's a lotta up. But day 7 was harder: up to the Pass of the Dead Woman at 13,800 feet, then down (not sure of the elevation), back up to a second pass at 13,100 feet, then down again. In theory, we were supposed to do a third (less rigorous) pass that day, but the tour guide Fredy took a good look at us and decided to camp early.
I should mention that a number of people in the group had been sick, not just with elevation, but with "the Peruvian 2-step". I had mild diarrhea myself, but managed to evade the nausea and vomiting. Nevertheless, I was not feeling strong, and several other people were feeling very badly indeed.
On day 6, Fredy had kept us all in a group, leading us up a few steps at a time, stopping frequently to catch our breath. On day 7, he told us to just all go at our own pace, predicting that some would go faster than others. At this point, a weird and rather wonderful thing happened. I headed off down the trail, at a slow pace, stopping often -- and when I turned to the people behind me and said they should go past if they wanted to go faster, the response I got was "no, we like your pace". So I ended up leading the whole group on both of the uphill stretches. In particular, I had a kind of partnership with Jim (that lasted into day 8 as well) where one of us would call a halt and then look to the other to confirm it, and he (being so excessively tall) could look back over the line of people following us and see whether anyone was still breathing hard.
This did, however, only work on the uphills, because of course most normal people are faster going downhill, and I'm not. On the first downhill, I ended up pretty much on my own, and found that I was hungry (having not had much breakfast due to digestive upset) and thirsty (having carried more water than I needed the previous day, I underestimated it this day) and exhausted (not being able to sleep well while camping, particularly with digestive upset added into the mix), and was on the verge of tears by the time I reached the rest stop and got a snack.
And after the emotional high of the second uphill stretch, with everyone together, I straggled again on the second downhill stretch. Fortunately, my newfound friend Richard, who also doesn't much like downhills, stayed with me, so there was someone to give me a hug when I started crying and couldn't stop. With 20-20 hindsight, it is easy to see that exhaustion was the primary factor. But at the time, what was in my mind was: The downhill was really hard, and there was a lot more downhill coming the next day. So I was scared. And I was embarrassed to be so slow, when no one else was having a problem. And once I started crying, I was embarrassed to be upset. Vicious cycle ensued: and I hiked the last mile or two with tears leaking and my nose running, hardly a good move when already a bit dehydrated.
Needless to say, I did make it, although the crying jag continued off and on all evening. That was really the only bad day of the trip -- and yet parts of the day were really good.
Day 8 featured the infamous 2000 Steps -- a whole lotta down. Despite the previous day's fear, I managed them fairly well -- it became a meditative state, where all my concentration was focused on placing my poles and my feet, with nothing left for dwelling on tiredness or fearing a mistep.
And then we got to Machu Picchu. We arrived in the late afternoon, with just enough time to hike through the site, take a few pictures, and catch the last bus down to Agua Calliente (where, sadly, we did not visit the hot springs, as Fredy informed us they were overly crowded and insufficiently clean).
Day 9 was too short: Too short of a visit to Machu Picchu, too little time in Agua Calliente, then the train back to Cusco. We all agreed it would have been so much better to stay another night in Agua Calliente, so that we could linger in Machu Picchu at least a full day, after all of the effort to get there!
Day 10 was more sightseeing and shopping around Cusco, and Day 11 was the flight back to Lima, and a bit of city sightseeing. Although a charming enough place, after the trek, Lima seemed a bit anticlimactic. Again, we all felt it would have been better to do the tour of Lima at the beginning, before we were jaded!
Day 12 was the air travel home, 8 hours to get to LAX, then on to OAK. The flight from Lima to LAX ran just late enough to make me panicky, given the need to get through immigration and customs and recheck my bags. With the result that my goodbyes were far too rushed.
Verbose as I've managed to be, there's a lot left out here, mostly about the people. I haven't said a word about Claudia or Miguelito; or Vernon and Grace; or Annie, or Johanna, or either of their Mikes; and I've barely mentioned Susan and Jo Anne, and not said nearly enough about Richard or Jim. Ah well, perhaps another post for that. Suffice it to say: there was a lot of laughter.
Aside: I miss a lot of calls on my new cell phone. Must fiddle with the ring options some more...
Found my way through LAX and ended up sitting next to Jo Anne on the plane -- she had already met Annie because they took the same shuttle to LAX!
After 8 hours flying from LAX to Lima, I was happy to get to the hotel and collapse.
Day 2 started with another airplane, from Lima to Cusco. Since Cusco is at 11,000 feet, I definitely felt the altitude, but wasn't suffering much. The day's tour centered on the Inca temple (with a Spanish colonial church built on top of it), which I don't seem to have taken many pictures of, although that is where we saw these Peruvian girls.
Other than that, I believe I ate and slept. The food throughout the trip was great, BTW, and at this point I was sleeping fine, although that didn't last.
Day 3, on the bus. Travelled from Cusco to Yucay, with stops on the way for scenic views, a impressive weaving demonstration, and an outdoor market where I succumbed to the urge to buy more than one sample of the local wares.
Day 4, the dread rafting trip. I've been rafting a couple of times before, and I knew it could be fun (with the right people in the raft with you), but in this case I kept thinking that if I fell out of the raft and bashed my knee on a rock and couldn't walk, I'd be really pissed off. However, it turned out fine. The only person who fell in was Jim, who was in the other raft, and who proceeded to comment repeatedly "I came to Peru and swam the Urubamba River, none of the rest of you can say that!" (Sadly, I don't have a good picture of Jim, but he can be seen in various group shots -- he's standing next to me in this one, wherein you may observe that he is a full foot taller than I. But I kinda like him anyway.)
Later that day, we climbed a heap o' steps at Ollantaytambo, and were all reminded how thin the air was, since about 10 of those steps was enough to get one out of breath. Thus began our indoctrination in the way of the Inca Trail: stop often to catch your breath!
Day 5, after a visit to a local home and some last-minute shopping in Ollantaytambo village, we finally hit the trail. A pleasant afternoon's hike brought us to the first camping site, with our tents nestled between Incan terraces and a field plowed with bulls (sadly, I have no pictures of this, but I hope some will be shared by my fellow travellers -- Jim, Richard, Susan, and I were all up early and watched the plowing for an hour or so).
Aside: In general, the Peruvian countryside is full of animals. The farm adjacent to this campsite had turkeys, a pig, a cow. There were dogs everywhere we went -- the guidebook warned that you should throw rocks at the dogs, which might be rabid, but all the ones I saw were in the friendly to placid range. Any given hillside might have sheep, or goats, or llamas, or alpacas. Any given road might have donkeys, or horses, or cows, or bulls. Often completely unfenced and unattended.
Days 6 and 7 were the difficult trekking days (and therefore I took few pictures). Day 6 was about 7 miles with 4000 feet of elevation gain -- that's a lotta up. But day 7 was harder: up to the Pass of the Dead Woman at 13,800 feet, then down (not sure of the elevation), back up to a second pass at 13,100 feet, then down again. In theory, we were supposed to do a third (less rigorous) pass that day, but the tour guide Fredy took a good look at us and decided to camp early.
I should mention that a number of people in the group had been sick, not just with elevation, but with "the Peruvian 2-step". I had mild diarrhea myself, but managed to evade the nausea and vomiting. Nevertheless, I was not feeling strong, and several other people were feeling very badly indeed.
On day 6, Fredy had kept us all in a group, leading us up a few steps at a time, stopping frequently to catch our breath. On day 7, he told us to just all go at our own pace, predicting that some would go faster than others. At this point, a weird and rather wonderful thing happened. I headed off down the trail, at a slow pace, stopping often -- and when I turned to the people behind me and said they should go past if they wanted to go faster, the response I got was "no, we like your pace". So I ended up leading the whole group on both of the uphill stretches. In particular, I had a kind of partnership with Jim (that lasted into day 8 as well) where one of us would call a halt and then look to the other to confirm it, and he (being so excessively tall) could look back over the line of people following us and see whether anyone was still breathing hard.
This did, however, only work on the uphills, because of course most normal people are faster going downhill, and I'm not. On the first downhill, I ended up pretty much on my own, and found that I was hungry (having not had much breakfast due to digestive upset) and thirsty (having carried more water than I needed the previous day, I underestimated it this day) and exhausted (not being able to sleep well while camping, particularly with digestive upset added into the mix), and was on the verge of tears by the time I reached the rest stop and got a snack.
And after the emotional high of the second uphill stretch, with everyone together, I straggled again on the second downhill stretch. Fortunately, my newfound friend Richard, who also doesn't much like downhills, stayed with me, so there was someone to give me a hug when I started crying and couldn't stop. With 20-20 hindsight, it is easy to see that exhaustion was the primary factor. But at the time, what was in my mind was: The downhill was really hard, and there was a lot more downhill coming the next day. So I was scared. And I was embarrassed to be so slow, when no one else was having a problem. And once I started crying, I was embarrassed to be upset. Vicious cycle ensued: and I hiked the last mile or two with tears leaking and my nose running, hardly a good move when already a bit dehydrated.
Needless to say, I did make it, although the crying jag continued off and on all evening. That was really the only bad day of the trip -- and yet parts of the day were really good.
Day 8 featured the infamous 2000 Steps -- a whole lotta down. Despite the previous day's fear, I managed them fairly well -- it became a meditative state, where all my concentration was focused on placing my poles and my feet, with nothing left for dwelling on tiredness or fearing a mistep.
And then we got to Machu Picchu. We arrived in the late afternoon, with just enough time to hike through the site, take a few pictures, and catch the last bus down to Agua Calliente (where, sadly, we did not visit the hot springs, as Fredy informed us they were overly crowded and insufficiently clean).
Day 9 was too short: Too short of a visit to Machu Picchu, too little time in Agua Calliente, then the train back to Cusco. We all agreed it would have been so much better to stay another night in Agua Calliente, so that we could linger in Machu Picchu at least a full day, after all of the effort to get there!
Day 10 was more sightseeing and shopping around Cusco, and Day 11 was the flight back to Lima, and a bit of city sightseeing. Although a charming enough place, after the trek, Lima seemed a bit anticlimactic. Again, we all felt it would have been better to do the tour of Lima at the beginning, before we were jaded!
Day 12 was the air travel home, 8 hours to get to LAX, then on to OAK. The flight from Lima to LAX ran just late enough to make me panicky, given the need to get through immigration and customs and recheck my bags. With the result that my goodbyes were far too rushed.
Verbose as I've managed to be, there's a lot left out here, mostly about the people. I haven't said a word about Claudia or Miguelito; or Vernon and Grace; or Annie, or Johanna, or either of their Mikes; and I've barely mentioned Susan and Jo Anne, and not said nearly enough about Richard or Jim. Ah well, perhaps another post for that. Suffice it to say: there was a lot of laughter.