Toffee Wishes and Inca Trail Dreams

After a particularly brutal wake-up call (it's rather difficult to wake up at 4:30 when New Year's revelers keep you awake until 1:30), I made my way to meet my Inca Trail trekking group at 5:45 or so. By 6:00, we were aboard a minibus and on our way to the trail head.

While there are many routes by which one can get to Machu Picchu (NB: The Incan lost city of Machu Picchu is where the trail ends and is sort of the point of the undertaking the trek to begin with), the route I chose (i.e., the "Classic Trail") is the most well-known among them. According to my most trusted adviser (me), it's also the best. We started from the town of Ollantaytambo (good luck pronouncing that one), which put us in place for 82 km (52 miles) of strenuous hiking. While most people are familiar with Machu Picchu, the trail is practically littered with other Incan ruins; you nearly trip over several each day. The names of these sites, however, can be extremely tricky to pronounce. You see, the names aren't in English (duh) or even in Spanish. Rather, the names were devised in the indigenous language, Quechua. Consequently, it appears is if all the ruins got their names by having someone spill several Scrabble letters on the floor; the names are difficult to pronounce and nearly impossible to spell. A few examples of stops along the trail include Llaqtapata (apparently named after a lactose-intolerant Inca King), Warmiwañusca, Pacaymayu, Sayaqmarka, Phuyupatmarka (these people really like their markas), Wiñay Wayna, and I'drathernotsaya (that was just to make sure you're still paying attention).

While the January 1 departure was convenient for me, it wasn't particularly convenient for the weather. The Inca Trail doesn't really have marked seasonal variations in temperature, but the variations in rainfall are quite stark. Of the two seasons (i.e., rainy season and dry season), I began my trek in the rainy season, and, in this respect, the Inca Trail did not disappoint. While Day One of the trek consisted of a bucolic walk in the mountains, Day Two brought with it buckets of rain. Since Day Two is also the most difficult climbing day (we ascended and descended two massive peaks), this mixture of ill-tempered weather and physical strain created a sort of witch's brew; Day Two was difficult.

As we ascended the infamous Dead Woman's Pass (so named because the peaks resemble the profile of a dead woman), the rain became white, fluffy, and decidedly colder. Snow. I tried to explain to the clouds that January is actually summer in South America, thereby negating any chance of snow. The clouds, however, didn't much care what I had to say; they would have none of it. More than anything, I was pleased to have protective rain clothing and shoes lined with waterproof Gore-Tex (or, as I call it, "God's Fabric"). While I may have been cold, I was mostly dry. The majority of my co-trekkers, on the other hand, were near-freezing and completely drenched, head to toe. Naturally, throughout all this, the porters (i.e., local people that carry our heavy stuff for in exchange for our money), were bounding past us in shorts and sandals, all the while carrying amounts that nearly tripled the load strapped to my back. Once we'd passed Dead Woman's Pass, however, the worst was over, and I dare say we all found the experience particularly rewarding in light of the harsh conditions. I've got some good photos from Dead Woman's Pass that will be posted soon, so be sure to check back in two days' time for those.

As fate would have it, our efforts were later rewarded as we approached the summit of the second pass of the day. The clouds parted, giving us breathtaking views of Dead Woman's Pass behind us. In accordance with tradition, each of us found a stone near the bank of a small mountain pond, carried it up to the pass, placed it atop other trekkers' stacks of stones (pictured at right), and made a wish. Well, at least that's what most people did. I found a stone near the pond, carried it up the pass, placed it atop some other trekkers' stones, and promptly sent the entire stack toppling over. I'm not certain whether this somehow "undid" all of the preceding wishes, but I certainly hope not. So, I hastily revised my wish as follows: "I wish that my clumsiness shall not undo the wishes of other trekkers. And if it's not asking too much, I'd also like a few pieces of toffee covered in chocolate. You know, like a Heath bar or something. Yes, that would be very nice right now. I'm very hungry, and I think the toffee would work wonders. Thanks for listening, your Wishiness, and have a lovely afternoon. Humbly yours, Caton." I waited, but no toffee appeared, so I can only presume that the first part of the wish did come true.