Stumbling blissfully into the hostel and vaguely filling out
forms, I find my bed amongst the scattered belongings of fellow travellers.
Whilst trying to keep silent I climb the creaking wobbly bunk, slither into the
top bed and nestle myself into an inevitable coma after returning from the last
adventurous journey to Machu Picchu. The next day I woke with eagerness and to
prepare for the next trip to Choquequiroa, these were the first ruins
discovered by Hiram Bingham before Machu Picchu. Whilst at breakfast I started
up a conversation with two lads one from Israel and a fellow Australian, they also
had done the Salkantay trek at the same time as I but by themselves and not in
a tour. After chatting about a few things it came up, they too were planning to
venture to Choquequiroa and since I had no hiking experience I asked if I could
tag along, they agreed.
That night whilst sampling a few beverages, with only three
or four circulating my bloodstream I slipped into an unconscious state at
around 10.30pm I can remember up till then clear as day. By the time I regained
consciousness it was morning, I was naked in another bed and in a random part
of the hostel. I felt my throat crawl as the familiar feeling of vomiting was
looming, Sprinting for a more respectable place to release this load like a bathroom
I was going for but perhaps a little unrespectable running their still naked
and dazed. That day I had come to realise that my drink had probably been
spiked, also I had to buy all my food for the next four day trek which I ended
up buying mainly candy and to top it all off I had lost my memory card with all
the pictures from Machu Picchu.
I woke early, collecting my gear I left swiftly and agilely
out of the room with the resonating murmuring sound of weary sleeping travellers.
We shuffle towards the bus station, load our gear and jump aboard the old bus
that has seen many kilometres of road in its lifetime. Arrivinga few hours
later at an intersection, we disembark and hail a taxi whilst briefly consuming
some breakfast consisting of a cloudy soup though quite delicious it did come
with the bonus of a chicken foot or two. Reaching the start of the trail in a
small town, we organise a couple of pack donkeys and a man to lead them. That
afternoon we were off, starting with an easy trek in a balmy part of Peru. This
small town was in the middle of nowhere but still had electricity, running
water, 'western' toilets, a view of rolling hills and snow-capped mountains in
the background. A bit different to the ruins we were going to see where these native
people's ancestors might have been from.
The start of the trek reminded me of regional Australia with
gumtree laden rocky dry grass hills that surround abundant crop filled valleys.
First day was an easy stroll the next two were not going to be, consisting on descending
from atop the hills at 3000m to 1500m at the bottom where raging water storms
down collecting more debris and brown cloudiness as it travels. The path that
guides our journey zig zags on itself numerous times to drop the height quickly
once at the bottom we have a joyful climb back to the same altitude on the
other side, in one day this was an intense workout on the calves but a
sensational visual feast.
(you can just see the zig zag path right of centre)
Making camp on day two early we decided that we would
quickly walk to the ruins and explore around them for the later part of the
afternoon before returning to camp as the sun sets on this glorious
countryside. We make ground expeditiously so that we have a few hours to
discover the ancient ruins that are still half engulfed by foliage and jungle. Humbly
strolling amongst these lively ruins, acknowledging the strenuous effort that
went into building these magnificent structures atop of these mountainous
hillsides along with the aqua ducts that once delivered water smoothly and
silently around the community from a distant well is astonishing. Each stone brick carefully manicured into a
perfect fit and calculated into the design back when tools and technology were
minimal to say the least, these people were the great architects. As a misty
cloud starting to blanket the valleys tops, the sun was beginning to power down
and the air was becoming crisp. We set off back towards camp feeling refreshingly
alive and eerily humbled as if the ghosts of the ancient past were congratulating
us on our journey to see their spectacular village that once protected their
families from any intruders and provided a home to a community.
After a deep peaceful sleep, we awoke to day three and
prepared ourselves for the leg work out that lay ahead. Still with clear visual
images of yesterday's experience we walk, quiet at first reminiscing of the
fact the while we were discovering the ruins we were the only ones there. As it
is quite hard to get there, the hordes of tourists that flock to Peru to gain
an experience of the ancient world avoid it. Personally, I think it was better
than Machu Picchu. On the way towards the town, it was agreed that I could keep
travelling onwards with the other two boys as they were heading for exciting
adventures that I wanted desperately needed to be a part of and release my soul
into these activities. Once again, in
Cusco we rest before catching the next bus on our journey to Arequipa.
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