Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu! Do I really need to say more? Ok maybe a little. It was painful waking the kids up at 3:45am, dragging them onto the cold ceramic tile and getting them dressed- neither kid could function and I can't say I blame them. One mention of seeing Machu Picchu though, helped their frosted spirits of the morning. The driver picked us up at 4:15am with an estimated arrival time to the train station in Ollantaytambo at 6:00am. Traffic wasn't a problem, but police stops along the dark road were. At the first stop, our driver handed over documentation which didn't seem to make them happy so he was asked to exit the car and enter the station. I wasn't sure if they were bribing him or needed decent light to read. I wasn't even sure he'd come back. Ten awkwardly silent minutes later, he popped back in the van as if nothing had happened. About 30 minutes later it happened again, but this time the conversation between the police officer and our driver seemed more tranquil, as if they were discussing the weather. The command of "go with God" was given and off we went.

It was barely light at the station, but already packed with people going in the exact direction as us. We waited patiently for the announcement to board Inca Rail, and at 6:40am we embarked on the bumpiest train ride ever. I love how kids give you no warning of tummy troubles. Halfway through the trip Deets was on my lap drawing pictures of volcanoes and birds, when he stopped, coughed, and barfed all over the table, himself, and me. That was drippy and gross, but particularly entertaining to the passengers across from us. This is exactly why I always carry baby wipes with me. Mark convinced Deets to sleep off the second half of the trip, while the rest of us drank our "free" drinks. This was where I got to try tea infused with coca and eucalyptus, and Peruvian coffee. My god, they were good. Once drink/snack service finished, then came the next wave of entertainment: the bathroom line drama.

I mentioned the train was bumpy, which meant the line to the bathroom needed to be spaced apart so that one would end up flinging their bodies on the tables or each other. Our neighboring seat mate took this as his opportunity to jump the line, destroy the bathroom, and coyly say thanks to the line of women staring at him horrified. They tried to gain strength in numbers by bunching closer, but no sooner did the woman in front turn her head to chat with her friend in line, did another neighboring seat mate cut in front. Faces of disgust was all they could do. It was rather unfortunate too, that Margo and I got into the back of the line (she has this obsession with using strange bathrooms- I suspect it helps with the monotony of waiting) and when we popped out, the last man standing was sent back to his seat. But for a good thing: after nearly two hours we had arrived to Aguas Calientes, placeholder for the busses and trail hikers to get to Machu Picchu.

It was around 8:30 and we were relatively on time. I didn't know this at the time (Mark swears he told me, I'm certain he didn't) but we had to be at a specific trailhead inside the park by 9:00am or we'd miss our window. We paid out more money for bus transportation to get to the entrance, which was a series of dusty hairpin turns to get to the top within 25 minutes. We arrived, stripped clothes, and had a pee break before presenting passports and tickets to the entrance. I heard something from Mark that we'd had no less than 10 minutes to get to a trailhead- but which one and which way?! 200 feet inside the park and we were faced with: left or right. We chose right, an unfortunate decision.  By the time this was realized, we were on the opposite side of the park and missed our chance. It took about 20 minutes for the sting to go away and to accept we wouldn't be hiking up what I now as Sun Gate. It's the hike that gets you the most idyllic view of the giant peak Huayna Picchu.

We hiked up, we hiked down, we hiked in circles and peeked through windows of time. The kids were amazing and entertaining, free climbing where it was safe and holding our hands when it wasn't. They played king of the mountain and this ridiculous game of "do you like ___?" It's similar to the game of "would you rather?" I loved people watching. The mountain was crowded, but at least it was filled with enthusiastic people from all over the world. I mean, there were a few a-holes, but there always are. Mark took 659 photos to my scanty 279; it was fun watching him analyzing a shot then attacking.

Due to an urgent bathroom break the last half of our time there caused Mark, Deets, and our friend Josh to split up from me and Margo. She and I were left to master the mountain on our own. We made our way to the upper route of the trail which is killer. Margo made zero complaints and just went for it. This sounds pompous, but people were impressed by her energy and I was as proud as a damn peacock. We finally caught sight of the boys on the decent and made our way out to catch the bus back down. There was ice cream and beer waiting for us before getting on the train and again to our driver who waited for us since 6:00am that morning. Mark convinced him to stop at the Sacred Valley Brewery for one last time and then make our way back to Cusco (don't worry, we tipped him well). I had to settle myself for an early sleep since the next day I was scheduled to get up for a 2:15am pick up time to hike Rainbow Mountain...

Waiting for the bus in Aguas Calientes

The big MP.

Climbing.

Climbing.

Climbed.

Back side of MP.

Sacrificial block- carved straight from the mountain top.

Through the foliage.

Margo choosing her weapons at the brewery.

Light saber rock guns.

Sacred Valley Tour, Peru

Even though we all were tired enough from traveling and sun exposure, sound sleep was hard to find. In a matter of minutes we all became nose whistling mouth breathers in our heatless apartment. Sure we were provided a space heater and were nearly flattened with layers of heavy blankets, but finding a stable temperature proved quite difficult. Plus we'd later learn that the home owner would charge us over a 100 dollars to use the (useless) heater, which made the house feel even colder. For the first few nights Mark and I ended up playing musical beds (the house did have seven total) in three different rooms to deal with insomniac children, dry coughs and snores, and ice cold feet against overly warm bodies.

Nevertheless, we all woke early from jet lag and the excitement of seeing giant stacks of handcrafted ancient rocks, perfectly placed during the Incan empire. We hired a driver to do a circuit tour around the Sacred Valley- someone experienced to handle steep hairpin turns and navigating amongst the masses of tour buses on two lane highways. I'm prone to car sickness so I won the front passenger seat, but nearly regretted it when the sun hit the dashboard.

Our first stop was a alpaca/cultural site called Awanakancha that introduced us to the many types of even toed ungulates which we could feed with unlimited stalks of greenery. The alpacas were a huge hit and not just with kids. I didn't see a single person frowning there, even if we were in tight quarters with a mess of camera happy and selfie stick jabbing tourists getting herded down to the line to the other end. Past the alpaca pens, we watched weavers, corn shuckers, and jewelry makers present their talents with adorable children right by their side. If the kids were excited about feeding alpacas, I was over the moon looking at the variety of potatoes and corn grown in Peru. I love food so much.

Onward we went to Pisac to gape at ancient terraces, tombs, and fortresses at 10,826 feet. Nothing says fun than walking halfway up the mountain when your daughter announces she needs to use the bathroom in the most urgent way. We could tell on a few less worn paths people unfortunately had marked their territory in ungallant ways. Undeterred, we found the proper bathroom and continued our venture up to the fortresses lined with empty rooms, perfect for playing "cozinha," Margo's Brazilian version to playing house... or rather "kitchen." And as we became champions of the Incan Fortress, we quickly headed back to the van to escape the increasingly congested stairways.

I suspect we were ragingly late on our return, having spent over two hours hiking. Everyone was in dangerous range of hangriness, but still opted to run through Pisac's giant market at the bottom of the mountain. Deets was obsessed with getting a chess board, and Margo wanted to buy her classmates toy alpacas. Those missions accomplished it was another hour fifteen minutes to get to the brewery we'd picked out for lunch. Mark reasoned we could avoid complaints of car sickness if the kids slept on empty stomachs. He was right.

We passed through a couple towns, one being notable for its famous grilled cuy (Guinea pig.) Sure enough, Calca, a town with puma pride, had women waving their cuy-on-a-stick to cars; the shiny taut skin charred to a deep maroon/brown, feet and heads intact. I enjoyed this so much I didn't think to take a picture. Once out of their town, Mark muttered something about my responsibility to look for the brewery that may or may not be directly on the roadside; or possibly across the river and past the railroad tracks. Knowing how late we were for lunch, I was freaking out that I'd miss it, saving all my attention to blurry buildings and unreadable signs. We lucked out, and the driver deftly turned into the parking lot for Sacred Valley Brewing Company (Cerveceria del Valle Sagrado). Beered and fed with ample time to play with rocks and harass the local cat, we were all fit for another stop: the Ollantaytambo Ruins at 9,169 feet.

Our driver gave us 45 minutes to ascend and return to the van. Craning my view to the top, I doubted this to be feasible. But the kids all but ran up the steps, nary a complaint to be uttered. We traversed across stone irrigation channels, up the terraced layers, and past thousands of tons of carved rocks with spy windows in between. We made it back filthy to the core and only ten minutes late!

I was certain this was the last hurrah for the day, especially since it was 4:15pm already. But some time later the driver abruptly turned left into Chinchero at 12,343 feet. He gave us thirty minutes, but with the dropping sun and cold temperatures, we kept on schedule, giving Margo exactly five minutes to make her (losing) case not to see rocks anymore. Deets however gained his second wind and was climbing on anything he could make purchase on, followed by sprinting across a terrace field which quite frankly was irresistible even for me. When Margo caught up, she ran too. And 28 minutes later we collapsed in the van watching the sky turn red, orange and purple- a twilight comparable only to a Colorado version. We arrived home around 8pm, with the bus depot across the street already filled with empty tour buses from what was likely a full day for many others.

Alpaca saying hi at Awanakancha.

Weaver at Awanakancha.

Potatoes of every shape and size.
Awanakancha

Incan ruins in Pisac.

Pisac ruins.

Pisac Market.

Pisac Market.

Mmm. Beer.

Ollantaytambo Ruins from below.

And above.

And from the side. Expert terracing.

Needing no encouragement.
Ollantaytambo.

My Margo, so fearless.
Ollantaytambo.

Chinchero Ruins.

Chinchero field that drops off to nothingness.

Chinchero at sunset.

Chinchero Champion Climber.

Chinchero local.