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We’re sitting in a restaurant in Aguas Calientes. Around us are five couples, two solo travelers, and two tour guides. All fourteen of them are tired, dirty, and covered in dried sweat. They just finished the 4-day Inca Trail to Machu Picchu and experienced a life changing experience, one that brought them together as a family to experience a once in a lifetime physical and mental challenge. As we watch them drinking celebratory beer, retelling stories, and soaking it all in, I’m reminded: this was supposed to be us. But instead of having a spiritual pilgrimage to Machu Picchu, we had an expensive failure on the Inca Trail.
The 4-Day Inca Trail to Machu Picchu
We decided on the Inca Trail months before we even came to South America. It’s a four day and three night trek through the Andes that ends at the Sun Gate, an exclusive entrance to Machu Picchu. The trail is part of an ancient pilgrimage, a path walked by thousands of ancient holy men, shamans, and great Incan scholars. Completing the path is a bucket list item, a dream come true. We were stoked.
After a lot of research (by Lia, the bigger nerd of the two of us), we booked with Alpaca Expeditions, one of the highest rated companies. Alpaca Expeditions is amazing. They’re in the middle as far as price goes, but what you get on the trek is far above the other tour companies. They provide porters for anything you need at night. They bring a chef – AND a sous chef. The staff is paid fair wages, and the company is founded by two former porters themselves (a big problem with tourism in the Sacred Valley is the exploitation of the impoverished local populace, so this is a huge deal). All of their porters are from the Sacred Valley community. All meals, snacks, camping equipment, and purified water are provided. Hikers just need to bring a day pack with rain and sun protection, while the porters carry everything else. Makes it sound easy, right? In addition to an excellent company, our tour guide Jose was one of the best natural storytellers I’ve ever had on any tour. He was engaging, passionate, incredibly knowledgeable, and funny. Mind, you we didn’t get to enjoy much of it.
How the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu is Supposed to Be
Even with an awesome tour company, the 4-day Inca Trail to Machu Picchu is no joke. Different companies take slightly different approaches to the trail in regards to the length of each of the 4 days, and Alpaca Expeditions happens to have arguably the hardest – something we didn’t realize when we were booking 8 month ago. Cool.
While most companies start short and increase their hiking distance each day, Alpaca Expeditions optimizes campsites to avoid crowds. Day 1 is the “training day”; an 8.7 mile long warm up. The bulk of this section is lovingly referred to as Andean Flat – meaning, well, not flat. If anyone in Peru ever describes a hike as “mostly flat,” you can safely assume they actually mean “mostly uphill.” The last stretch of day one is a steady ascent uphill for roughly an hour and a half. Somehow, we looked at the altitude map of Day 1 and thought, “that doesn’t look too bad.” Day 1 seemed like a piece of cake. Day 2 is the big one. It starts with a nearly 4000 foot climb straight uphill – literally stairs – for about four hours, to the cheerfully named Dead Woman’s Pass. From there, it’s down-up-down on more stairs. The whole day is about 11 miles long. Day 3 is the short 6 mile half day in preparation for the mad dash to The Sun Gate first thing in the morning on Day 4.
We figured, as long as we can get through Day 1, we’ll be OK – it’s just Day 2 we have to worry about. Of course, we were wrong.
Training for the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu
I know that some of you are only reading this to make sure your Inca Trail hike won’t befall the same fate as ours. (Which is smart. Keep reading!) Training was definitely part of our failure. But not in the way that you might think. The problem wasn’t that we didn’t train for the Inca Trail. We trained hard for our backpacking trip … but our hike was 4 months into our trip.
When I signed us up for the hike, 7 months before our trip, failure on the Inca Trail didn’t even cross my mind as an option. We were pretty regular hikers at home, taking advantage of the myriad hikes around the Bay Area on a weekly basis. We even added backpacking into the mix and hiked with heavy packs on. For almost a year leading up to our travels we also worked out regularly at the gym, doing at least 3x a week of powerlifting and cardio. We felt fit. We felt ready. And then we left for South America.
In the months leading up to the trek, we planned various hikes and treks throughout South America: La Cuidad Perdida and the Valle de Cocora in Colombia, the Quilotoa Loop in Ecuador, and Laguna 69 and Colca Canyon in Peru. Our goal was to train steadily over our 4 month trip to work up to the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, as it is by far the hardest hike we have ever attempted. It all seemed so doable. One trek a month or so. No big deal.
The thing is that we didn’t do them. Within the first 2 weeks of our South America trip, we decided it was too hot in northern Colombia to do the 6-day Ciudad Perdida trek (you guys, we were melting on the 2-hour hike to Parque Tayrona. Northern California is cold! We couldn’t handle the heat!). We managed about half of the Valle de Cocora, getting screwed over by our slow hiking speed and inability to wake up before 10am yet again. We successfully hiked 2 out of 3 days of incredibly difficult The Quilotoa Loop – if by “successfully hiked” you mean got lost, crawled up a mountainside on our hands and knees, and injured ourselves. Only one of us managed to do Laguna 69 while the other one suffered in bed from debilitating altitude sickness. And by month 4, when it came time to do the 4-day Colca Canyon trek, we opted to take a bus instead.
Hiking in South America turned out to be WAY harder than hiking in the States. Needless to say, after 4 months of almost no training at all, we were not ready for the Inca Trail.
Off to a Bad Start
I could tell we were out of our league when we showed up to our debriefing session at Alpaca Expeditions the night before the start of the hike. Everyone but us was in perfect shape. One guy was casually telling stories about various marathons he’d completed and the time he sumitted Mount Fuji. Another couple was late to arrive because they were finishing up another multi-day trek. It was like walking into a cross-fit gym in stained sweats holding a donut. We were in way over our heads.
Hiking Day 1 of the Inca Trail – “Training Day” – was OK for the most part, on the spectrum of our usual hikes. Mind you, our hike spectrum usually includes a mad dash just before sundown after we realize that we’re taking twice the time we’re supposed to and are going to end up hiking in the dark. Our big problem is that we hike SO SLOWLY. We’ve heard so many well-meaning people who successfully finished the Inca Trail be like “Oh I’m slow too, it’s no big deal! You can do it!” It’s nice, but it’s wrong. In the words of Beyonce, “You must not know ’bout me,” because we take slow to a new level.
The first part of Day 1 is supposed to be from 9 AM-1:30 PM, then an hour break for lunch. The historical lessons that Alpaca Expeditions includes along the trek ran a little longer than planned, so the group got to lunch around 2 PM. Well, everyone except us, that is.
While the group was sitting down to enjoy a well-deserved break and deliciously cooked meal, Lia and I were slowly making our way up an Andean Flat stretch that became infinitely more difficult because the sun was burning us to oblivion. We expected rain the whole hike, but instead we were given unrelenting sunshine. I wasn’t sure what I would have preferred, honestly. We were dressed for rain, not sun, and it felt like we were dragging ourselves through the desert in 800 degree heat. We huffed and puffed and sweated the whole way up what was supposed to be an easy, “flat” section of trail. We finally rolled up to lunch just before 3 PM and got the dregs of the leftover food. I was so exhausted I barely touched the delicious fresh trout. Minutes later, the porters were tearing down, packing up, and (literally) running to set up our camp. Break over.
Our Uphill Battle Hiking the Inca Trail
We didn’t get any time to relax before we had to follow the rest of the group back up the trail. Franz, our assistant tour guide, was a trooper. He gently strolled alongside us as we huffed and puffed uphill for the next two and a half grueling hours. He was our personal chauffeur throughout the whole ordeal, in charge of our safety and health as the last 2 stragglers in the group. The section of hike after our lunch break was the beginning of the climb to Dead Woman’s Pass, the most notorious and difficult part of the Inca Trail. The hill alternates between stairs that go up to your knee and an incline so steep that it would make San Francisco say “Nope.” Franz gave us the advice to take the hills in a zig-zag. This helped a little, but my knee injury was returning mere minutes into the hill (thanks a lot, Quilotoa Loop). The pain sparking in my leg was only mitigated when we were passed by three fabulous, fluffy llamas.
Lagging behind and struggling, we were already feeling defeated. I asked Franz about the logistics of turning back the next day. Being the determined “we-can-do-it” one on our hikes is usually my job, so we both knew we were in trouble. But Franz remained optimistic, telling us that our pace was slow but steady, and assuring us that we could do Dead Woman’s Pass. Alpaca Expeditions never wants to send people back (imagine the pain of losing your entire trek fee AND failing at your once-in-a-lifetime bucket list dream – trust me, it hurts), so Franz kept pumping us full of hope. As time stretched to an hour and a half of slogging up the hill, we found a slow, methodical groove. I was feeling almost meditative, slowly putting one foot in front of the other as we climbed stair after stair with no end in sight. As the waning sun disappeared behind the majestic mountains apathetically observing our slow struggle, Franz pointed up and around a bend. Finally, he said the words we’d been waiting to hear for hours: “there’s the camp, ahead.” The end was near! In a last ditch effort to cheer us up, he added, “I actually think you guys can do it tomorrow.” We huffed and puffed and limped into camp, visions of finishing the trail and accomplishing the impossible dancing in our heads.
Reaching camp in time for happy hour
We arrived at camp about 45 minutes after everyone else. It was already dark outside. The porters probably set the tents up 15 minutes after they left lunch, because they’re insanely bad-ass (I’m not exaggerating when I say they were literally running up the trail). So when we got to camp, everything was already set up for us in our spacious tent. We gratefully accepted a bucket of hot water to soak our feet in and tried to catch our breath.
The group was supportive and friendly, avoiding the slow elephant in the room, and instead asking things like “did you see those fabulous llamas?” It was a forced comradery – they’d just spent 8 hours bonding and chatting as they hiked, while we’d only interacted with them for a few minutes the entire day – but they were a really polite group.
Jose came by our tent and let us know that “happy hour” was in five minutes, followed by dinner. He said we didn’t need to come to happy hour if we needed rest. Then, ominously, he added “After dinner, we need to talk. I will give you suggestions.” Unsure what this meant, we went to happy hour. Happy hour was hot chocolate, tea, popcorn, deep-fried cheese wontons, and crackers. Honestly, much better than any booze-centric happy hour (especially at 10k feet above sea level). Dinner, like all Alpaca Expedition meals, was fantastic. We had Chifa style chicken, fried mashed yucca patties, rice, veggies, and fried cheesy cauliflower. Dessert was banana flambeed in pisco tableside.
As we stuffed ourselves, Jose gave the group a pep talk about Day 2: It’s the hardest day. 5am wakeup. 4 hours of climbing stairs. High altitude. You’ll likely feel sick. You’ll probably lose your appetite. You might throw up. Most of your extremities will be tingly and numb. Drink a lot of water. You know, the usual.
If you read that and thought “oh my god, that sounds like actual hell on earth,” you know exactly how we were feeling.
Facing Reality: Accepting Our Failure on the Inca Trail
After we ate our fill, Jose pulled us aside. He gave us two options. Option A was that we pack up that night, sleep in our hiking clothes, and get started on the trail at 4 the next morning. At our pace, he estimated, we’d be hiking until after sundown. 14 hours of hiking. 4,000 feet of climbing. 14,000 feet above sea level. Oh god.
Option B was that we turn around and hike back. Franz, our assistant guide, and a porter would go with us carrying our stuff. We would spend one night in Ollantaytambo and one night in Aguas Calientes, just outside of Machu Picchu. On Day 4, we would take the tourist route – the train – to Machu Picchu and reunite with the group early in the morning. “In time for pictures,” Jose assured us, in a voice that hinted that in case it helped ease our pain, there’d be a photo that made it look like we’d hiked the whole way too. Thank god, nobody on Facebook has to know about our failure on the Inca Trail. I guess that’s probably important for some people, but our first question was: how much is this going to cost us? $400 extra – on top of our $1,200 trekking fee – was the estimate. Ouch.
We took a hard look at ourselves. I was full on limping. Neither of us have ever hiked for 14 hours straight, much less on such a difficult and high-altitude trail. Lia is about 18 times slower than I am, and I’m slower than everyone else we’ve ever met. We were both filled with dread at the thought of Dead Woman’s Pass. Our optimistic visions of completing the hike faded and vanished. With a heavy heart, we told Jose we would be leaving the next day. Our failure on the Inca Trail was set in stone.
Return Hike to Ollintaytambo
We had breakfast with the group and told them we wouldn’t be joining them that day. They were understanding and sympathetic. A few of them definitely saw it coming. Jose gave us each a bagged lunch and wished us well.
The way back was much easier. Maybe it was because we knew that once we were done hiking that day, we were done hiking for a long time. Maybe it was because the way back is all downhill. Either way, we returned to KM 82 (The Inca Trail trail-head) in just 6 hours, compared to yesterday’s 8.
At the trailhead, we were joined by a Danish couple who had turned around due to altitude sickness: they’d spent night 1 throwing up. The four of us, our porters, Franz, and some others from the small town jumped in a combi and headed to Ollantaytambo.
When we arrived, we got a surprise from Franz – and it wasn’t just 2 bright green t-shirts proclaiming that we’d “Survived the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.” Thank god, no one at the gym has to know about our failure on the Inca Trail! No, the surprise was that apparently we were expected to pay for Franz’s hotels and transportation during the 3 days while we were off the trail. Surprise! We were pissed. We didn’t even NEED a guide, and we were already out enough money (*cough*$1,200*cough*). I guess if you’re the kind of traveler who flew into Peru just to do the hike (which describes everyone else in our hiking group) you might feel more comfortable with a guide tagging along, but we were 4 months in and perfectly capable of finding our own way.
The two Danes, who were on their honeymoon, got a nice hotel. We – on our much grungier honeymoon – found the cheapest piece of crap hotel we could. $5 for Franz, $10 for us. Sorry, Franz. If we’re paying, you’re roughing it too.
Ollantaytambo is just like so many Peruvian small towns we’ve been in. There is a main square surrounded by restaurants and markets. And that’s about it.
Trying to make the best of a bad situation, Lia and I tried some Alpaca Saltado, one of the local typical foods. We’ve been asked repeatedly if we’ve tried any bizarre foods in South America. Alpaca now tops the list. But it was super gross. It tastes like gamy overcooked beef. We like alpacas way better alive.
We bought our tickets for the train and spent the rest of the day trying to find a cell phone charger and a wi-fi signal. We drifted off to sleep around 8pm, only to be awakened 3 times (3 TIMES) by the owner of the hotel, who apparently thought we were going to bounce without paying. He would shine a flashlight in our room, ask if we were still there or when we were going to pay, and then shuffle off. Early in the morning, he knocked on the door with the same routine. We eventually found him sitting motionless outside of our room, waiting to take his money. I guess not many gringos go with the super cheap hotel option in Ollantaytambo.
We boarded a train the next afternoon across from the Danish couple. We enjoyed the scenic ride through the Sacred Valley from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes, despite the awkwardness I brought on by bragging about how cheap our hotel was (theirs wasn’t, and we ended up looking like cheap traveling dickbags. New blog name?) During our train journey, as we sipped our free passion fruit juice and nibbled our free cookies (actually, “cookies” is a stretch. It was stale bread with 4 chocolate chips on top) we passed the beginning of the Inca Trail again. You know that feeling when you spend hours hiking a difficult trail, only to drive past it on the way home and realize it only took you 10 freaking minutes by car? We watched 16 miles and 14 difficult hours of our life pass by us in the blink of an eye. No wonder they stuck a train track on one of the most-used Inca Trails to Machu Picchu.
When we arrived at Aguas Calientes, Franz met us at the station. We had pre-booked our beds at Super Tramp, a hostel that was in partnership with other hostels we’ve loved in Cusco and Arequipa. Franz escorted us through Aguas Calientes to find it, making himself as useful as he possibly could. Turns out we’d managed to out-cheap him: he took one look at the graffiti-covered hostel filled with grungy lounging backpackers and announced he’d booked his own hotel. We were off the hook for his room bill! I guess he didn’t want to stay with us in a 10-bed dorm. Can’t blame him. As for us, we took one look at Super Tramp hostel – with its graffiti and travel-quote covered walls, free breakfast, and crowds of friendly lounging backpackers – and thought, oh thank god, we’re home. (Every time we stay in a hotel, we end up missing hostels. Seriously!)
The town of Aguas Calientes is actually pretty cool looking. It’s built in the rainforest at the base of a waterfall. Due to its location, there are no cars in town, so the streets are narrow with tall buildings. The only vehicles in town are buses to and from Machu Picchu. The major downside to Aguas Calientes? The price. The entire town is marked up like crazy to take advantage of the crowds of tourists who tromp through on their way to Machu Picchu and have no idea what a regularly priced Peruvian meal is like. Hint: it’s usually a lot less than 30 soles for a plate.
Franz offered to take us on a 3-hour hike to see a waterfall or to visit the local thermal baths. I’m sure those things are lovely, especially for people who are only in Peru to see Machu Picchu, but we were short on cash and … I realize this sounds super douchey… we’ve seen a lot of waterfalls and thermal baths during our 4 month backpacking trip. Sorry, Aguas Calientes. We opted to sit inside the hostel doing absolutely nothing – and trying not to dwell on our failure on the Inca Trail – and it was great.
Finally in Machu Picchu
We woke up at 4am the next morning, along with everyone else in our 10-person dorm room, and scarfed down the super early free breakfast from the hostel. We met with Franz and waited in the long line for the bus to Machu Picchu. The bus was bouncy, but the scenery was beautiful: low-lying fog nestling up against gigantic, steep mountains blanketed with rainforest.
Anyone who has ever been to Disney or somewhere similarly packed with tourists knows that whenever people flock to a tourist attraction, they turn off their brain and tend to believe this experience is just for them. Arriving in Machu Picchu felt just like that. In the low season, 3,000 people are let into Machu Picchu a day – 5,000 in high season. After the 45 minute wait for the bus, 30 minute wait in the line, and 20 minute crowded uphill walk to Machu Picchu, it was…disappointing.
Don’t get me wrong. Machu Picchu is beautiful, and a truly breathtaking sight. But it’s so crowded. In order to appreciate the quiet majesty of the ruins, you have to avoid selfie sticks, tour groups, and hoards of people trying to take THAT picture. Which is impossible. Without firsthand experience, I think it’s safe to say that Machu Picchu is way, WAY more satisfying after a grueling 4-day pilgrimage.
After kicking out a couple who were attempting to meditate in one of the most popular designated picture spots, Franz helped us take our own obnoxious Machu Picchu picture. We got a few minutes to explore the Guard’s House – hands-down the best spot for photos AND the least crowded, as it’s all the way up the hill – before finally reuniting with our group as they walked down the hill from the Sun Gate, the entrance from the Inca Trail.
The group was starry-eyed and excited. They were seeing Machu Picchu with completely different eyes than we were. And we felt the difference. Despite their friendliness, it seemed like we were being pitied. Our questions of “Oh my god, was it amazing?” were met with a polite and uncomfortable “so how was…your time? Was the town nice?” We also stupidly wore our complementary “I Survived The Inca Trail” t-shirts… but nobody else did. Awkward. We took our group picture, imagining that for years to come, whenever the rest of the group shared this photo with their impressed friends and family, they’d say, “See those two in the bright green “I survived the Inca Trail” shirts? It’s so ironic. They were the only ones who didn’t make it.”
The group left us again to check in at the office. In the meantime, Lia and I got to do what we were looking forward to the most: making llama friends. As anyone who has been to Machu Picchu will tell you, there are llamas everywhere. The llamas even have the right of way throughout the ruins. We found some particularly friendly llamas (that’s a lie, all llamas are sassy and rude and it makes us love them so much more) and finally got the picture that we’d always dreamed of.
Once Jose and the group returned, we were treated to a two hour tour of the village of Machu Picchu. Everything Jose said put the group in awe and built upon 4 days of in-depth cultural lessons that we had missed (and I do mean in-depth. Jose went to college for this. He is insanely knowledgeable.) As we passed ruin after ruin, not quite grasping the significance of subtle architectural details that made the rest of the group gasp in delight, I realized that everyone else had experienced Machu Picchu the right way. The Inca Trail was a pilgrimage, and here they were reaping the benefits. 4 days of dust, sweat and tears. 4 days of viewing progressively larger and more interesting ruins, and hearing the stories of the people who once lived there. 4 days of fully embracing Pachamama and deeply resonating with how Sacred the Sacred Valley truly is.
All we’d done was sit around bored for 2 days.
After the tour, most of the group continued to Wayna Picchu, an hour hike (more stairs!) uphill for a sweeping view of the village and surrounding area. You know that tall pointy mountain in the back of any photograph of Machu Picchu? That’s Wayna Picchu. We decided not to do the hike, because it’s extra money and who are we kidding. Instead we opted for the Inca Bridge, a derelict stone pathway that hugs the side of a cliff face. As we hiked the hour to the Inca Bridge, we realized we were both feeling the same disappointment about not finishing the trail. We hadn’t just experienced failure on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. We had actually ruined our destination, too.
Return to Aguas Calientes
We left Machu Picchu before most of the others, sick of the crowds and the overall feeling of regret. Jose told us to meet at a restaurant called Tupana Wasi. If there was any doubt that Alpaca Expeditions is used to gringos with money, this restaurant confirmed it. We took one look at the menu and nearly choked, it was so far out of our budget. We spent the hour waiting for the rest of the group eating raisins and nuts like chipmunks storing up for winter so we would be less envious of everyone else’s food.
As the others arrived, hugs were had, beers were consumed, and contact information was exchanged. Except ours. This was the most awkward part of the entire day. The group tried to be polite about avoiding getting our Facebook information, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t even remember our names. Which is OK, because we didn’t remember any of theirs, either.
It felt like we had stumbled into the cast party of a close-knit group of actors in a play we’d only caught the first 10 minutes of. We sat awkwardly trying to join in as much as we could as the rest of the group retold stories, shared laughs, and reveled in the life changing experience they had shared. I mean literally life changing, you all. One couple in the group actually got engaged at The Sun Gate!
We killed time in town after lunch until our train ride. Finally, after four days of lucky weather, the skies had opened up into the torrential rain we’d been expecting all along.
On the train ride back to Ollantaytambo, we passed KM 82 and the start of the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu for the FOURTH time. It was like we were reliving our Greatest Hits of Failure on the Inca Trail over and over again. Finally, after four hours of transit, we arrived back in Kokopelli Cusco, finally done with one of our most expensive failures.*
*Surprisingly, this was not THE most expensive failure we’ve had. We once bought a used car for $5,000 cash. It lasted for 2 months, then inexplicably died. RIP, Loretta the Jetta.
Avoiding Failure on the Inca Trail
The 4-day Inca Trail to Machu Piccha is no joke. It is a grueling four day fight against time and altitude. Of the group who actually completed the hike, 3 felt the effects of altitude sickness on Dead Woman’s Pass, and 1 spent a whole day throwing up as he hiked.
If you plan to take on this challenge, here is the bare minimum you will need to do in order to not repeat our failure on the Inca Trail:
- Arrive in Cusco at least 4 days in advance in order to acclimatize. We gave ourselves 5 days and did not feel any of the effects of altitude sickness.
- Take altitude sickness pills, from the time you arrive in Cusco up through the ascent to Dead Woman’s Pass.
- Train like your life (and your trekking fee) depends on it. At a minimum: hike like crazy. Hike weekly. Hike for speed, hike for altitude, hike the hardest hikes you’ve ever done and master them. If you’ve never done a 4,000 foot incline (and decline), find one and do it.
- Hit the gym. You should be able to run a mile without losing your breath. You should be able to do an hour on the stairmaster. When it comes to strength training, focus on your hamstrings, quads, and calves. I recommend deadlifts, squats, and weighted calf raises. The stronger your legs are, the less likely your knees will get injured.
- Research the hiking route. This is something we didn’t do – we assumed all trekking companies did the same route on the Inca Trail from day to day. We didn’t realize we’d be covering more ground than every other company in the first 2 days. Many companies spread the 26 miles out evenly over 4 days, or give you 2 days of warmup before a long day. If 12 hours of hiking (the plan for day 2) sounds like too much, go with a different company than Alpaca Expeditions.
Also, know that Inca Trail is not the only way to hike to Machu Picchu. There are other treks that get you to Machu Picchu: Lares, Salkantay, and Inca Jungle, just to name a few. It is my understanding that these all end at Aguas Calientes, then a bus continues the trip. The Inca Trail is the only one that ends at the Sun Gate and continues straight into to the ruins of Machu Picchu.
If you are planning on taking on the challenge, you’ll find many options for tour companies. I can’t praise Alpaca Expeditions enough. They were open, honest, patient, and helpful, from booking to when we were dropped at our hostel. With most South American tour companies, you get what you pay for. But with them, it felt like we got more than we paid for. We are big proponents of sustainable and equitable companies. Alpaca Expeditions are one of the only companies to treat their porters fairly, and it shows in the happiness and demeanor of the porters. It truly felt like we were a part of the family.
I mean, until we failed.
My Honest Assessment of Our Utter Failure on the Inca Trail
So you might read this and think I’m a hater, or maybe a sore loser, or saying not to do the Inca Trail. In fact, the opposite is true. I now firmly believe that Machu Picchu should be done by way of the Inca Trail. Seeing the ruins through a crowd felt cheap and touristy, and much of the magic and awe shared by the rest of the group was lost on us. Our hiking group truly earned the sight of this ancient village. We just showed up and tagged along.
On a positive note, our love for hiking hasn’t been dampened by our failure on the Inca Trail. We plan to continue slowly plodding along on progressively more challenging hikes, keeping our expectations reasonably low to match our abilities. We even still plan to section hike some of the Appalachian Trail next summer.
Maybe we’ll try hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu again one day. After all, my grandmother did it 30 years ago, when she was 60. Who knows, maybe we’ll take our kids with us next time.
Did you get a sick sense of satisfaction from reading about our failure on the Inca Trail? (No judgement. That’s what we’re here for.) Pin it! Note: Images below are larger than they appear.