Tuesday: A buffet breakfast at 7am in the antique-littered hotel dining room afforded the spectacle of an Indian woman shuffling across the frosty hotel lawn carrying tall bundles of folded cloth. Finding a sunny patch, she placed her bundle down and smoothed out two blankets on the crisp, white-covered grass, one for her pile of brightly coloured blankets, the other for herself.
Promptly at eight our guide arrived and soon we were driving high on to the nearby plateau, climbing over 1,000m to the Indian town of Chinchero. The sky was a brilliant blue, the surrounding peaks capped in snow, and the air was crisp as we wandered around the Chinchero town square among the dozens of vividly-dressed Quechuans (Andean Indians – descendants of the Incas) going about their business.
At 3750m above sea level, Chinchero is a prime potato and grain-growing region, but leafier comestibles need to be ‘imported’ from the lush valley floor hundreds of kilometres below. This has led Chinchero to develop a thriving market where locals barter for foodstuffs and visitors offered a range of handicrafts from the Cuzco region. The village is a showpiece of mud brick houses and may have been an important town in Inca times if the massive stone wall in the main plaza is any indication.
Agriculture is an important feature of the local economy and the patchwork of corn, maize, wheat and quinoa fields sweeping across the plateau is a photogenic symbol of the Inca/Quechua affinity with the land.
Bouncing across this spectacular mountain-rimmed limestone plateau, on dusty back roads in a small four-cylinder vehicle (with radio blaring baby-boomer flashbacks) I was suddenly struck with a feeling of utter insignificance.
Next stop on this awe-inspiring day was at what I saw called an Inca “Agricultural Research Laboratory”. High on this lofty plateau a natural depression was transformed into enormous concentric terraces forming the shape reminiscent of the Roman coliseum, with a depth up to 150 metres ringed by an advanced irrigation system. Although the purpose of these depressions is unclear, their orientation creates differences in temperature as much 15C between top and bottom, leading to speculation that the Incas were experimenting on the effects of different climatic conditions on crops.
Climbing down and back up, to explore these remarkable constructions in more detail, I was overcome from the exertion and effects of the altitude. Forced to stop every few paces to gulp in long lungsful of thin oxygen, I was relieved when our guide reached down and plucked a small handful of weeds from the ground. Instructed to hold the clump under my nose,he told me this mint fragranced Muna (pron. moon ya) was an ancient Inca remedy to shortness of breath. It certainly did have a relieving effect; allowing my lungs to take in and hold more oxygen.
A little further down the road, and a little closer to a looming precipice to the Sacred Valley, we visited the quaint colonial village of Maras. Many of its houses are emblazoned with Spanish nobility coats of arms on their lintels, indicating the importance of the town in colonial times, although now it is just a quiet backwater village away from the main tourist trail.
Just out of Maras our car plunged down a steep decline on the dusty road, sweeping through a long series of switchbacks in a shower of stones and bulldust for a vertical kilometre to the valley floor. That’s one road I definitely wouldn’t attempt in the wet season!
We interrupted the descent by a visit to a salt works carved out of the side of the plateau. A natural salt spring feeds a complex of around 300 dehydration pools cut into the steep slope where locals have harvested salt for hundreds of years. The visit was highlighted by the presence of a stunningly beautiful blue-eyed local girl gathering salt. Even Michelle acknowledged she was breath-taking.
Back on the valley floor, we followed the course of the river Urubamba to the attractive town of Ollantaytambo at the foot of a spectacular Inca garrison built to protect the entrance to the fertile lower Urubamba valley (Sacred Valley). After making the gruelling (well, for me anyway) 100m climb up the terraces to the garrison our guide pointed out examples of the outstanding precise stone masonry employed to build the strategic fortress. Stone used for these buildings was brought from a quarry high up on the opposite side of the Urubamba river – an incredible feat involving the efforts of thousands of workers. The complex was still under construction at the time of the Spanish conquest and was never completed.
Once we ticked all the gringo tourist boxes for the day, we drove back to La casa de Yucay hotel for our second night in the Sacred Valley. The guide instructed us to be ready for pickup at 6.55am the next day, to make sure a timely arrival at Ollantaytambo station for the rail journey further down the valley to Machu Picchu. While arranging a 6am wake-up call at reception I noticed the Indian woman from the morning still seated on the hotel lawn with her pile of blankets, in full shade and descending temperature as the sun had disappeared behind the nearby mountains.
At 5pm, with no radio, television, internet – or even a book – we were a little lost for entertainment before dinner, so we ventured into a hotel bar that we hadn’t discovered on the previous night. Kicking back with a Pisco sour or three our solitude was interrupted by the arrival of a group of Germanic revellers who hogged the bar and fired up a hidden juke box. The first tune to erupt from the speakers was the perfect summation of the day’s activities – the travails of climbing at such an altitude, but the rewards of that effort – the 1971 Led Zeppelin classic – Stairway to Heaven. Aaaaaaaah Life’s wonderful.
Dinner in the hotel dining room was a simple affair – fresh Urubamba river trout with a simple tomato dressing accompanied by a Tacama blanco de blancos 2009 ( blend of Sauvignon Blanc, Viognier and Chardonnay).
It was a hot shower and early to bed to be fresh for our early morning pickup. Just as I was drifting off to a fitful and uncomfortable sleep the phone rang and reception informed me the pickup was changed to 6.50am. Or so I thought.