Read about Day 2 here

In the morning, we had to wake up our guide. Lizandro had originally said wake-up was 5 a.m., but after lots of whining and a bit of drinking, we managed to get that pushed back to 6. The porters served us our morning tea, I’d sworn off coca by this point, and Raven, slightly hung over was the first up to enjoy the misty dawn, including trekking down to see free range llamas that had slept on a nearby hill. Breakfast came, but Lizandro hadn’t appeared. We had to do something about that.

Despite the teasing the day before, kindness ruled the morning. It was quickly decided we needed to wake up our guide and that we should do so by bringing him breakfast in bed. Well tent and sleeping bag in this case. An omelette, assortment of fruit, and bread were organized on his unclaimed plate and topped with three cocoa leaves in the traditional Inca blessing. We poured him tea and then headed out to see who was brave enough to “knock” on his tent door.

The porters and cooks followed along to see what resulted when a rowdy group of hikers pestered their sleeping guide first thing in the morning. As we shouted morning greetings along with “time to get up!” to Lizandro, Ivan and Cooper shook his tent. A groggy, but delighted, Lizandro stuck his head out of the door, receiving breakfast as well as teasing – some of it coming from the porters!

Lizandro was quick on his feet, eating food and checking the time. Which made him wave us forward. He’d catch up, he promised, but we needed to head out.

Today was an easy day, promising a slow rise to Phuyupatamarca and then HOURS of downhill on Inca steps. Okay, it was easier than the day before with its 10 hours of hiking and two mountain passes and Inca steps. The sun escorted us as we hiked upwards, guide-less, but as we climbed mist moved in. Or maybe we moved into the clouds. We were climbing to 12,073 feet after all.

Lizandro caught up to us at a jog with a smile. He’d showered, finished the breakfast we’d made for him, and was in great spirits. When we reached the misty heights of Phuyupatamarca, we took group photos next to the marker. The actual ruin was best visible from a ledgy height up a few hundred feet. Hoping for a break in the clouds, Raven, myself, Tami, and Stephanie scurried upwards and braved the steep drop to peer down for fitful glimpses of the Inca structure nestled amid trees and mist. It was breath taking, not just for the drop off, and fueled excitement.

Tomorrow was Machu Picchu!

The pass where we had stopped was quickly becoming crowded as other groups arrived. Lizandro ordered us out, which meant down, with warnings about how slippery and steep the Inca steps would be – especially here at the pass and in the clouds.

Down a narrow slot on steps that felt to have been made for someone with the stride of a giant, we edged downwards over slick rocks and crumbling soil. The steep drop eased after the first half hour, with sections of gentle downhills on the stone trail spaced between steps, steps, and more steps. Over two hours of walking on jaring stone steps with sweeping views of the Urubamba river valley, and mountains rising around us as we dropped lower.

Lizandro kept us together, stopping us to point toward a steeply sloped spire of a mountain. “That,” he said, “is Machu Picchu.”

The name means old mountain in Quechua and really belongs to the larger of the two peaks holding the famous ruin. From where we stood, gazing in awe at our destination, the buildings were hidden by the forested mountain. But it was there and so close. We would see it tomorrow. We still had the remainder of today.

We took a left at the first sign we’d found civilization, well a portion of civilization at least in the form of an electrical tower. There we headed on a muddy track through the forest to reach Intipata. But we hit a roadblock.

Two Llamas waited in the path, one lying down and facing us. Neither looked at all bothered by our close presence, or that we wanted to go forward. After taking advantage of the unexpected photo op, we eyed the llamas. They eyed us. With no way around, we yelled at them to move. The llama lying down flattened an ear. Laughing, Lizandro charged them. Finally, they scattered and we followed the trotting beasts into Intipata.

The terraces of Intipata stretched up the steep mountain both above and below where we stood on the widest with amazing views of the Urubamba river and valley. And our llama escorts. Talk about a chance morning photo opportunity you can’t arrange without a lot of time and money. But we had luck.

Our break and lesson of Inca history lasted a short time before Lizandro sent us onto the trail again, sneaking ahead of the group by racing down the old Inca stairs connecting the terraces. He met us at the bottom where we could finally stand and see the ruin stretching into the forested slope of the mountain far above us.

Legs and knees, especially knees, aching from hours of walking down rough stone steps, we hobbled the short forested section to the large campground outside of the ruin of Winay Huaayna. The campground was built as a labyrinth of earth terraces, and guides had to help us find our campsite. Where we discovered we not only had lunch, but a break of a few hours, the opportunity for a warm shower – provided by our porters kindly heating and lugging hot water to a shower stall, and then an evening visit to Winay Huaayna.

It was after our shower that Raven admitted he didn’t feel well. Chills and aches cramped his body. Lizandro arranged for hot chocolate for him as Raven admitted an evening visit to the ruin wasn’t in his cards. I left Raven with the porters and went with the group on the short hike to a ruin similar to Intipata for the number of terraces but wholly unique, as every ruin had been on the trail, with its two clusters of buildings, one above us and the other far below, and a fountain that dropped along the steps linking the two sections.

Winay Huaayna means forever young, we learned. After a final lesson before reaching Machu Picchu, Lizandro presented the group with Alpaca International t-shirts and the freedom to explore. Evening shadows were quickly racing over the stone structures as I walked down to the small cluster of buildings, finding vibrant red begonias growing between stones and whispering silence but for the pounding of a nearby waterfall.

By the time I made it back to the main terrace, after a detour to the upper sections to make up for not having seen Sayacmarka the day before, the group had already left for camp. I hurried to catch up to check on Raven as much as to not be out wandering the myriad of paths alone in the dark.

Raven was still ill but functioning. He didn’t last long through dinner, which was a shame as it was pizza – his favorite – and a celebratory cake. We were given a final choice for the next day: up early, extremely early, in order to queue for the gate opening for the last section of Machu Picchu and to allow the porters a chance to pack and make it to the train so they wouldn’t have to camp a second day. Or sleep in and cause everyone a headache. It was an easy choice, not only for the kindness of it but because tomorrow, TOMORROW!, we’d arrive in Machu Picchu. As tired as I was, and as worried as I was about Raven’s sudden sickness, I half wondered if I’d be able to sleep.