Thursday: We checked out early and high-tailed to the depot to catch the 8am bus up the mountain so we could explore the citadel before the flood of day-trippers arrived from Cuzco around 10am. After roaming through the terraces, dodging happy-snappers and wandering alpacas, we slowly gravitated to the path leading higher up the mountain towards the Sun Gate.
Intipunku, the Incan word meaning Sun Gate, is at the crest of the final ridge overlooking Machu Picchu. It’s the point that Inca Trail trekkers arrive at pre-dawn to watch the sun rise over the citadel and its guardian peak, Wayna Picchu. Intipunku has great cultural and spiritual significance, as each winter solstice on December 21, the sun shines through the cleft in the ridge and lights up a window in the Sun Temple, the heart of the ruins far below.
Though only a mile up the rocky trail from the ruins, the walk to Intipunku took 75 minutes thanks to my constant need to stop and inhale the essence of the muna herb.
At the pinnacle our reward was an astonishing view of the ruins and the zig-zag road snaking up the mountain from the banks of the Urubamba river hundreds of metres below. The surrounding mountains were shrouded in mist and the passing clouds cast intermittent flashes of light on the historic sanctuary spread out before us. The only spoiler was the number of tourists who had arrived before us and commandeered the prime vantage spots with no intention of making way.
We completed the descent to the citadel with far more ease than the ascent, and at 1pm, at the height of crowding, we decided to return to Aguas Calientes and enjoy a leisurely lunch before boarding the train back to Ollantaytambo and our transfer to Cuzco. We wandered down to the main square and settled into a balcony table in a Comida Chifa (Peruvian/Chinese restaurant) overlooking the square. With most tourists swarming over the citadel high up in the cloud forest, we observed the daily life of the locals, kids playing in the square, dogs happily chasing each other, old men chatting on park benches and women carrying bright baskets from the green market around the corner. It might be a rambling shanty town populated with souvenir shops and pizzerias, but Aguas Calientes has a warm, inviting soul beneath its shabby exterior and its cheerful citizens have a great sense of community and civic pride.
We chose from the wide-ranging Sino-Japanese-Peruvian menu and soon lunch began to arrive. Wantan Soup and Tipa Kay Cuy – battered deep-fried guinea pig in “salsa tamarindo” -sweet and sour sauce and a side of Arroz Chaufa (fried rice) with its distinctly tangy flavour seasoned with soy sauce (along the lines of Cantonese blackened rice). Slaking our thirst on that warm afternoon were a quartet of Cusqueñas, the Andean beer combining the light and crisp taste emblematic of South American beers, with the depth and flavour of European pilsners. In a slightly bizarre musical twist, the in-house entertainment was provided by a wall-mounted flat panel playing a video of a Yanni concert.
We wandered slowly uphill towards the station, browsing through shops and galleries as we went. In one comparitively upscale gallery I was especially taken by small stone replicas of statues that greatly impressed me in our Lima hotel a week ago. Pachamama (earth mother) and her husband Pachacamac (creator of the world) are revered deities throughout the Andes and the statuettes I held were fine examples of their representation. While inwardly debating whether to invest in these souvenirs the store background music changed tracks to Radiohead’s 1993 classic “Creep“. Yes, Machu Picchu, You’re so fucking special.
Deciding to seek out these statuettes later in the trip we continued through the markets and were among the first to board the train for the return journey. Fellow passengers eventually returned and we were soon making for Ollantaytambo, 90 minutes up the valley. Seizing another opportunity to wrest even more cash beyond the usurious PeruRail ticket prices we were assailed by commercial agents modelling and spruiking a dazzling range of alpaca knitwear. Talk about a captive market!
We met our transfer driver at Olly station and made the 90 minute trip over the plateau and ring of mountains and descended into Cuzco as dusk gave way to a galaxy of streetlights. We checked into the Eco Inn on Cuzco’s main thoroughfare and were gratefully reunited with the suitcases that contained, among other things, laptops and phones allowing access to our more usual world. After a typically nondescript international hotel dinner we made a brief foray out into the city.