I was woosy-sick, tired and cold getting into the squashed taxi in the morning. The car trip took us into the ultra-steep valley of the Salkantay nevada with the dawn light catching the snow-caps to breathtaking effect. The almost sheer drop beside us and dodgy dirt road made things interesting but we made it safely to pass through the almost tourist town of Santa Theresa. Caitlin and I had originally planned to spend time at the renowned thermal baths there but as we found out the night before they had been destroyed in January`s floods.We followed the Urubamba River valley onwards upstream towards the Macchu Picchu Historic Reserve - on paper quite small at 33 hectares but protecting a huge section of the river around the ruins. We passed an engineered hole in the sheer rock-face which directed a gushing stream back into the river - presumably a result of the small non-dammed hydroelectric scheme to where we were headed. We signed in at the reserve and set off in the freezing morning air along the train line.
With spectacular cliffery above us we trekked the 2.5 hrs through high jungle intermingled with coffee and bananas right past views of the back of Macchu Picchu. There were few people and the morning was peaceful and refreshing - in place of my usual morning exercise I got to balance-walk the rail track, which is great for the lower abdominals. Look out pilates! It was great to be back in the rainforest.
Then a gigantic pile of stinking rubbish at a station signified our approach to super tourist-town Aguas Calientes. It has an ugly reputation for mountainous prices and being a soulless vacuum of culture - it appears to have been thrown together haphazardly overnight and I was told there have been serious river pollution problems. The town itself however was actually very clean, landscaped and set in possibly the most amazing location in the world.
After buying tickets, checking in to cheap Hostal Number One and watching the first half (*cough* side... ahem) of Australia vs. Germany I visited the literally and figuratively luke-warm baths for which the town was named. We walked along the river/train line and avoided the affectations of restaurantuers. It has been reported that Peru now has the most pizza restaurants per capita in the world thanks to this town. Our early sleep was put off by an hour-long argument between a client and the staff of the hostel. They just kept repeating themselves forever " The price was 10 soles. " "No, señor, the price is 15 soles" and so forth ad infinitum - when would you just make a decision and tell the other to go jump¿ I politely requested they cease which of course didn`t work - Caitlin then jumped out of bed and yelled `¡Basta!`(Enough!). That worked:). Cheers, Caitlin.
We woke well early at 3.45am to march the steepish but stone-stepped hour up to the entrance gate along with many other young keen visitors. There was already a line when we arrived to wait until someone stamped our tickets to confirm we could ascend Wayna Picchu, the cloud-forested and buttressed mountain at the back of classic Picchu photos. Upon the 6am entrance we ignored the masses head upwards with the signs and headed straight to the centre of the complex for precious photos without people in them. I took about 100 in an hour, I reckon.
At 7am we were allowed in to climb Wayna. I had heard it was steep (it was) and dangerous (not really - only if you were a moron or physically deficient) but it was beautiful series of stone steps, terraces and ruins with a few gnarly caves to navigate. 40 minutes later I was at the top, marvelling at the incredible 360 degree views - as the late winter sun rose it illuminated a ring of spectacular peaks and glaciers around the valley. Everything was at peace up there looking down upon this sacred gift to humanity surrounded by the majestic Andes. I took out my San Pedro cactus liquid and blessed it.
My rapid hop-stepping descent went past a guard/grunt telling me not to run and eventually brought me back to the gate and more grunts. Thus began the tragic saga of the villification and persecution of your saviour and Lord, Me. They wanted me to put my shirt on. Why¿ Not because it`s actually a rule or law, but because it creates bad vibes, I eventually found out. Feeling so free and liberated I wasn`t prepared to do that, and told them to $·"& right off (without the swear words) and walked on.Then it was time. I climbed the the highest point of the main ruins, found a tree looking over it all and drew out the San Pedro. The San Pedro cactus (Echinopsis pachanoi) is a fast-growing columnar cactus native to the Peruvian Andes between 2000–3000 m in altitude. San Pedro contains a number of alkaloids, including the well-studied chemical mescaline, a naturally-occurring psychadelic alkaloid of the phenethylamine class. It is mainly used as an entheogen, and as a tool to supplement various practices for transcendence, including in meditation, psychonautics, art projects, and psychadelic psychotherapy (thanks, Wiki). I held it close, breathed deeply and completed my prayer to my Higher Self to connect with Macchu Picchu to bring me what I needed to heal myself. Then to the drinking. Holy Andean Cocks-of-the-Rock, Batman! It tasted the same if not worse than beer vomit. I`m not kidding. So 250ml later I closed the lid and continued my explorations.
Macchu Picchu was built in the classical Inca style, with polished dry-stone walls. Its primary buildings are the Intihuatana, the Temple of the Sun, and the Room of the Three Windows.
Built around 1450 at the height of the Inca Empire, most archaeologists believe that it was intended as an estate for the Inca emperor Pachacuti(1438–1472) (more Wiki). It is a magnificent feat of engineering, the stones carved straight from the mountain and built organically into the geography in symbolic reverance of nature and the elements. What made it so beautiful for me was its unique but perfect shape and the variation of design and architechture.
The space is composed of 140 structures or features, including temples, sanctuaries, parks and residences that include houses with thatched roofs. There are more than one hundred flights of stone steps –often completely carved from a single block of granite –and a great number of water fountains that are interconnected by channels and water-drains (still flowing) perforated in the rock that were designed for the original irrigation system. Evidence has been found to suggest that the irrigation system was used to carry water from a holy spring to each of the houses in turn. (Wiki) It has undergone extensive restorations.
The cactus was starting to kick in within half-an-hour as I explored and marvelled while more and more people filed in. At one point I overheard the guide/leader of a group of Inca-trailers in a cheesy faux-American accent saying `Alright, guys, you made it! How do you feel? Great?! Yeah!! Well done!` Toss-bucket. There are a number of llamas there - they were casually cool and quite funny. That day I saw many very unfit people in various states of attempting to get around the easily-accessible ruins - this was a tourism I hadn`t seen much in South America. Others seemed to me quite bored and very closed. Pretty sad.
At 1100am I met Caitlin at the sun dial (Intihuatana) with the intention of us having lunch - she did but there was no way I could`ve considering I was well into my trip and having a strong time processing it. But I was very glad to see her. We sat in the sun admiring the western snow and stretching. As I sat and breathed with the San Pedro I could feel the immense power of Macchu Picchu. It felt like the paradox of it having perfect views to all directions but also being hidden and strategically inaccessible meant it had access to the whole world. The rushing river below and surrounding jungle completed the natural forces. Connecting with this power I felt extremely potent. I felt like a freekin`ninja... with nunchuck skills! Gosh¡
I fell in love with a wicked mountain range to the west, was completely blown away by the City Gate (photo above lizard), the constructed stone peaks imitating the mountains behind (including the perfect stone carving representing the Sacred Mountain - photo above train tunnel) and the sun dial. The symbology of the specific stone forms started to make perfect sense to me, particularly in relation to the surrounding geography and Wayna Picchu, which as I was shown was wrapping it`s protective condor wing around Macchu. It was the perfect form.
The place felt like it was the collective human heart of the world - sacred symbology and natural beauty fused. For me it is our Mecca for the education and spiritual transformation of ourselves to a more compassionate state of being. The lesson I took personally is that the divinity and magic is in all races of people, no matter what your position of privelige. As such I felt very sympathetic towards the local people and how they were viewed by themselves and others.
As far as specific events go, that day was a bit of a blur. I hung out with Caitlin and Camilo a little and met Echo from New York. Like the sun that day the cactus was very strong and sapped my energy, requiring a lot of very expensive water and unfortunately restricting my ruin-hopping. I met a local grunt (they actually are people) who directed me the the Inca Trail and Sun Gate high above the city but I physically couldn`t do it. Eventually the combination of the San Pedro and the implications of the symbolism of the ruins threatened to overwhelm my mind and like Elvis I left the building, farewelling Camilo and Caitlyn to sit in the forest just near the exit and try to get a grip.
There and over the next several hours of intense psychadelic psychonautic art projection, many things occurred to me. I was depressed by the insanity of wildly consumptive spending directly in contradiction of the message of pure love from Macchu Picchu. I had converted myself into a fluent Spanish speaker, thinking only in Spanish. While I could obviously still speak English, it wasn`t my preferred language anymore. We have created time and now we need to deal with the consequences. And I was Jesus Christ. This last point was however probably true as I was stopped on my descent by two God-fearing (and very nice) Peruvians Christians to both have themselves in a photo with me.
On my eventual descent I saw what seemed to be tent-like slums carved into the side of the mountain - if they were that`s $%($ up, but I was tripping hard so they might not have been so. I was passed by several groups of local Macchu workers running down the steps in a race. This made me very excited and I tried to keep up but a sore knee and thick lethargy slowed me right down. I stopped and greeted many locals including guards, sincerely thanking them for the gift of Macchu Picchu.
I was eventually able to eat a little then slept. I woke early, got yummy juice and supplies and headed off along the train line towards Piscacucho, 30km away. On the way I met Fredy the Inca Trail guide, who recited to me a learnt by heart poem about, trees, leaves, wind and the blessing of Earth in English, and also an Aussie saying. `Don`t go chasing tail, spend your money well but don`t be a /($·$ tight-arse!` Tee hee. I continued balancing on the rail line which was actually faster than on the gravel. This soon ended after I hit the wall. I was totally exhausted, but still had 4 hours left to the town. It was beautiful along the river with imposing glaciers above but I was too tired to enjoy it very much. Trudgery. Put your head down and just do it. I eventually made it to Piscacucho and then home through four local transport transfers including touristy Ollataytambo where tourists swarm and their ridiculously large and empty luxury buses clogs the narrow streets while locals cram into Hi-Ace`s and wait like good little black-fellas. Back in Pisac I said a proper goodbye to Caitlin and ate yummmmy steak, thanks cow.
Built around 1450 at the height of the Inca Empire, most archaeologists believe that it was intended as an estate for the Inca emperor Pachacuti(1438–1472) (more Wiki). It is a magnificent feat of engineering, the stones carved straight from the mountain and built organically into the geography in symbolic reverance of nature and the elements. What made it so beautiful for me was its unique but perfect shape and the variation of design and architechture.
The space is composed of 140 structures or features, including temples, sanctuaries, parks and residences that include houses with thatched roofs. There are more than one hundred flights of stone steps –often completely carved from a single block of granite –and a great number of water fountains that are interconnected by channels and water-drains (still flowing) perforated in the rock that were designed for the original irrigation system. Evidence has been found to suggest that the irrigation system was used to carry water from a holy spring to each of the houses in turn. (Wiki) It has undergone extensive restorations.
The cactus was starting to kick in within half-an-hour as I explored and marvelled while more and more people filed in. At one point I overheard the guide/leader of a group of Inca-trailers in a cheesy faux-American accent saying `Alright, guys, you made it! How do you feel? Great?! Yeah!! Well done!` Toss-bucket. There are a number of llamas there - they were casually cool and quite funny. That day I saw many very unfit people in various states of attempting to get around the easily-accessible ruins - this was a tourism I hadn`t seen much in South America. Others seemed to me quite bored and very closed. Pretty sad.
At 1100am I met Caitlin at the sun dial (Intihuatana) with the intention of us having lunch - she did but there was no way I could`ve considering I was well into my trip and having a strong time processing it. But I was very glad to see her. We sat in the sun admiring the western snow and stretching. As I sat and breathed with the San Pedro I could feel the immense power of Macchu Picchu. It felt like the paradox of it having perfect views to all directions but also being hidden and strategically inaccessible meant it had access to the whole world. The rushing river below and surrounding jungle completed the natural forces. Connecting with this power I felt extremely potent. I felt like a freekin`ninja... with nunchuck skills! Gosh¡
I fell in love with a wicked mountain range to the west, was completely blown away by the City Gate (photo above lizard), the constructed stone peaks imitating the mountains behind (including the perfect stone carving representing the Sacred Mountain - photo above train tunnel) and the sun dial. The symbology of the specific stone forms started to make perfect sense to me, particularly in relation to the surrounding geography and Wayna Picchu, which as I was shown was wrapping it`s protective condor wing around Macchu. It was the perfect form.
The place felt like it was the collective human heart of the world - sacred symbology and natural beauty fused. For me it is our Mecca for the education and spiritual transformation of ourselves to a more compassionate state of being. The lesson I took personally is that the divinity and magic is in all races of people, no matter what your position of privelige. As such I felt very sympathetic towards the local people and how they were viewed by themselves and others.
At one stage while overlooking the entire ruins towards the north I felt long warm brushstrokes all over the left side (my more problematic side) of my body and brain. It was wholly healing and relieving. I felt like all my friends and family were with me there, including my adopted Pisac family and my good friends from Australia (you know who you are... and aren`t, bastards). This brought to mind `The Pyramid Song` by Radiohead; `All my lovers were there with me, all my past and future.` Was I at the South American equivalent of the pyramids¿ Was that a long bow to draw¿
As far as specific events go, that day was a bit of a blur. I hung out with Caitlin and Camilo a little and met Echo from New York. Like the sun that day the cactus was very strong and sapped my energy, requiring a lot of very expensive water and unfortunately restricting my ruin-hopping. I met a local grunt (they actually are people) who directed me the the Inca Trail and Sun Gate high above the city but I physically couldn`t do it. Eventually the combination of the San Pedro and the implications of the symbolism of the ruins threatened to overwhelm my mind and like Elvis I left the building, farewelling Camilo and Caitlyn to sit in the forest just near the exit and try to get a grip.
There and over the next several hours of intense psychadelic psychonautic art projection, many things occurred to me. I was depressed by the insanity of wildly consumptive spending directly in contradiction of the message of pure love from Macchu Picchu. I had converted myself into a fluent Spanish speaker, thinking only in Spanish. While I could obviously still speak English, it wasn`t my preferred language anymore. We have created time and now we need to deal with the consequences. And I was Jesus Christ. This last point was however probably true as I was stopped on my descent by two God-fearing (and very nice) Peruvians Christians to both have themselves in a photo with me.
On my eventual descent I saw what seemed to be tent-like slums carved into the side of the mountain - if they were that`s $%($ up, but I was tripping hard so they might not have been so. I was passed by several groups of local Macchu workers running down the steps in a race. This made me very excited and I tried to keep up but a sore knee and thick lethargy slowed me right down. I stopped and greeted many locals including guards, sincerely thanking them for the gift of Macchu Picchu.
The rubbish smell and a false restaurant spruiker welcome me back to Aguas and reality. He faked sincerity asking my opinion of Macchu Picchu then immediately after my heartfelt reply that it was the heart of the world directed me to spend hundreds in his bar with cocktails and World Cup. So jaded. I retreated to the river with a gallon of water to recuperate, then bit the bullet and headed back to Number One to my same room. There I immediately locked myself in `Trainspotting`-style and got into bed. I spent the next five hours stretching, massaging, focussing and desperately re-focussing on strong breath. It was very intense, the cactus moved ever so slowly through my digestive system and I had to make myself vomit several times. I was of course very tired but felt I couldn`t fall asleep until proper resolution for fear I might not come back, whatever that might`ve meant - death, madness or nothing. Very, very challenging.
I was eventually able to eat a little then slept. I woke early, got yummy juice and supplies and headed off along the train line towards Piscacucho, 30km away. On the way I met Fredy the Inca Trail guide, who recited to me a learnt by heart poem about, trees, leaves, wind and the blessing of Earth in English, and also an Aussie saying. `Don`t go chasing tail, spend your money well but don`t be a /($·$ tight-arse!` Tee hee. I continued balancing on the rail line which was actually faster than on the gravel. This soon ended after I hit the wall. I was totally exhausted, but still had 4 hours left to the town. It was beautiful along the river with imposing glaciers above but I was too tired to enjoy it very much. Trudgery. Put your head down and just do it. I eventually made it to Piscacucho and then home through four local transport transfers including touristy Ollataytambo where tourists swarm and their ridiculously large and empty luxury buses clogs the narrow streets while locals cram into Hi-Ace`s and wait like good little black-fellas. Back in Pisac I said a proper goodbye to Caitlin and ate yummmmy steak, thanks cow.
Even after heavy sleep my morning exercise was slow and tough, so I had carrot cake and coffee as medicine. While doing so my friend dropped in to say hi and let me know I had taken a double dose of San Pedro. Hmmm. At the market I bought some Peruvian essential oils to heal my dodgy knee. Later I said goodbye to Laura and Lamaya who were off back to Byron Bay via the US. I went to Maggie`s friend Alberto`s house to celebrate Irishman John`s birthday, where local amigos drank and smoked the night away, and I managed to catch up with Nathan, back from the jungle of Puerto Maldonaldo.
On Thursday Erica helped me out with my cracked heel injury with an anti-fungal powder and soothing and evocative Balm of G , made from the spring buds of poplars - I also smelt probably the best ever essential oil blend, `Defense`, by Aromas. Another two day local strike fizzled on Friday and I was able to get to Cusco for some consumptive relief. That night Sarah and I went to the super-hot sauna again.
On Thursday Erica helped me out with my cracked heel injury with an anti-fungal powder and soothing and evocative Balm of G , made from the spring buds of poplars - I also smelt probably the best ever essential oil blend, `Defense`, by Aromas. Another two day local strike fizzled on Friday and I was able to get to Cusco for some consumptive relief. That night Sarah and I went to the super-hot sauna again.
On Saturday Eroca, Jeja and I hit the local markets in Cusco, with an amazing variety of edible vegetation in various forms, juices, dairy, meats, dried llama foetuses and chainsaws. This is heaven for a fresh unprocessed produce-lover like myself - like bunches of fresh herbs for 20c, whole corn tamales also 20c and a glass of fresh juice for 50c. Ceviche (marinated raw fish) with onion, corn and sweet potato for 80c. We also saw a parade of gigantic paper mache (I think) characters and animals in reverence of Pacha Mama (Earth) and defiance of corrupt political figures - bold social and political statements with artistic expression, we lov`d it. Everywhere I saw the rainbow flag of `Gay Pride` - I`d never seen South America so out and proud. Then a streetwise Cuzqueñan pointed out that, actually, the happy flags were the Incan flag - oh well. Cusco was gearing up for it`s annual Winter Solstice celebrations which culminate in the day-long Incan celebrations of Inti Raymi on June 24 at the Saqsaywaman ruins.
With Jarrah and Laura moving out I met our new neighbour Michael from Sweden and more roving Royal Canadian Yaksmen, Allison and Sarah. With our plans to head to Tres Cruces for a winter soltice sunrise phenomenon (no-one really knew what it was exactly) skittled, we settled in for home-cooked food, cups of tea and lovely conversation with all present. Nice.
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