Intrepid Adventurers

I also was to discover that that nagging little headache wasn't going to go away in just one night!
4AM comes just as early in Peru as is does anywhere else, and while I had tried to organize my pitifully small pile of stuff, I still had to risk my roomie's wrath by turning on the overhead lights. Small risk - seems he was one of the late night revelers of which he had spoken. So out the door I went, dropping my travel clothes and bag in the office for 4 days storage. The guard's head bounced up as I opened the door and stepped out, just as a cab dropped off several young women from their night on the town. At the bottom of the steps were two red jacketed Llama Path porters, so we waited together in the cool but encouragingly not cold Peruvian morning. Shortly the bus drove up, a Frankenstein affair of diesel truck front grafted onto a school bus passenger compartment and all painted green and red trimmed with fringe. Stepping inside we were greeted with cheers and applause, which would become a mini-tradition on the trek. I sat down next to the other 'Randy from Texas', exchanged greetings and explanations, and closed my eyes for the next 3 hours to try to chant away that altitude headache (I wound up taking two aspirin every six hours and some O-T-P-C (that's Over The PERUVIAN Counter) altitude sickness pills). I opened them again in the town of Ollytambo, where we stopped for breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, tea or coffee and, of course, cocoa leaves. It marked the last time for 4 days that I would see a true porcelain throne in the bathroom. Throne. Unless you have used the squat and squirt drainage holes most other countries call toilets, you do not fully appreciate that word. Even here, however, was a major difference in civilizations - in Peru one does not flush toilet paper into the fragile sewage/septic system, one deposits it in the miniature trashcan with swinging lid nearby. Yech. But there was running water and soap, so I got over it. The drainage hole, I would not.
Out back we laid out our stuff for the porters to pack into red duffles with generous shoulder straps, and met the porters. For 8 of us (including Casiano) there were 13 porters. These guys ranged in ages from 19 to 53 and would carry all the tents, kitchen equipment, personals, and 2 full propane tanks some 45Km distance and about 4000 meters vertical. Wow. While we set off on the trail at a measured walk, they scampered ahead of us up and out of sight in the time it took you to read this sentence. At the gate to the Inca Trail we had our passports checked and stamped, crossed the roaring Ollytambo River, and began our walk in earnest. The Peruvian government has realized what a gold mine they have in the Trail and Machu Picchu, and while one might suspect them of mining it with enthusiasm, they are charging 70$ a head, requiring a guide (paid), and permitting only 500 a day to walk. This is an effort to maintain the nature of the trail - in fact, no metal tipped walking sticks are permitted on the trail and no sticks at all inside Machu Picchu.
This first day was a simple one. Walk up. When you get to the corner, walk up some more. At the treeline, go up, and after you stop to suck rarified air for the 15th time, continue climbing until, finally, well, you get the idea.
To be frank the temple names all sounded like Willy Wanka or some Richie Vallens tune (Oly oly bamba yo me no sabe, arriba arriba), but they were magnificent examples of planned communities. Religious buildings grouped here at the highest level, followed by more secular support structures, and finally in the low tier the working area. Casiano explained to us that this was in keeping with the Inca's reverence of the numbers 2 and 3 and their multipliers. Also, anytime we noticed a rounded wall that signified a religious connection. He also explained that the Inca's had developed a great understanding of hydraulics and the ability to move water. He pointed out the irrigation ditches dug in the ground and carved in the rock to provide water to the numerous terraces cut into the mountainside. These terraces not only provided level ground to cultivate, they strengthened the bases of the rock buildings and structures.
One thing I was glad to see was that the land was still being farmed and inhabited over 5 centuries after the Incas had been conquered. While the people were not rich in money or possessions, they had a wealth of family, culture, history and Independence I think is undervalued in today's market.
Our lunch stop was around 9,500' and had our breath not already been stolen from us by the excursion and altitude, it would have been taken away by the preparation awaiting us. The porters had set up a dining tent with tables, table-cloth, chairs, and place settings complex enough to puzzle Anne Landers.There was hot water and soap with which to wash before juice, water, avocado salad, rice, steamed vegetables, jam and bread, and breaded beef strips. It was amazing, as were all the meals. One in particular was stunning - stuffed trout, broccoli, beans, rice, salad, coffee, tea (and cocoa leaves), and flan for desert! On top of the meals was tea at 4pm with jam and biscuits!
Having come DOWN from Cusco's 11,500' to 8,500' to start, and lunching at 9,500', we all came to a collapse point back up at around 11,000'. Fortunately the porters, after years of experience, had predicted this and set up our tents at that point. Each was again equipped with soap and water, and the sleeping bags and mats were already laid out. Which saved us from falling prostrate directly onto the hard ground. There wasn't much activity or conversation after dinner, unless you can translate the shuddering snores that filled the air. Even the German supermen, Franz and Daniel were subdued this first night out.