Andes to Amazon

Having conqured Machu Picchu and aware that we're rapidly running out of time Alex and I are eager to get started on our next excursion - the Amazon rainforest. This has been on my bucket list for longer than Machu Picchu has - an absolute must do, my entire reason for wanting to come to South America. We have several options as the rainforest stretches across nine countries in total.

After lots of research we settle on Cuyabeno National Park in Ecuador for the quality of wildlife and excellent prices... then we learn that several tourists have been kidnapped by Colombian gurillas in previous years. Then we learn that the Peruvian rainforest is only by plane or boat (Iquitos is the largest city in the world with no road access), thus spending more time and money. As we have to be in the capital, Quito, in ten days time for a flight to Colombia, we opt for Ecuador but decide to visit Yasuni National Park - away from the troublesome border.

With a decision made Alex and I still have to work out how to get there. We're still fairly far south and flights within South America are very expensive. I have met travellers who have found it cheaper to fly to Mexico, the States or even Canada and then back rathet than get a direct flight between two South American countries. It takes us six days to get to Quito from Cusco, alternating between a night on a bus and a night hostels along the way. The best of these stops is in Huacachina, an oasis town surrounded by miles and miles of rolling, golden sand dunes. Alex and I celebrate an evening not being on a bus with a dune buggy ride more vomit inducing than any roller coaster.

Above: Dune buggy/ death trap

Above: Huacahina

Above: Huacachina as featued on the fifty soles note

With seven days left before out flight and five days wanted in the jungle, Alex and I head straight to a travel agents upon arriving in Quito. Despite our reluctance to get kidnapped it turns out that Cuyabeno National Park offers better prices, more wildlife and more water. Our travel agent seems slightly cofused that we should be concerned - 'I wouldn't send you there of it was dangerous', 'I've sending tourists there for years and never had any problems' etcetera etcetera. Only slightly convinced but aware that I'm probably being overly paranoid I push my concerns aside, unable to ignore the poster of the beautiul jungle lodge in front of me and the chance to be there tomorrow. At least getting kidnapped would fulfill my dream to live in the Amazon and practice my newly researched hostage negotiation skills.

Above: Most recent picture... just incase

Machu Picchu!

A 4:00 start, 1870 steps up and patiently waiting in line with hundreds of other tourists and I finally get to Machu Picchu. I've wanted to come here ever since I read 'The Incredible Incas' at the age of eight. I'm surpised to find out that I'm more impressed by the loction of the ruins than the ruins themselves - they look like a natual part of the landscape, as though they have grown out of the mountain. The ruins are also, of course, amazing.

Wedged between Machu Picchu (old mountain) and Wayna Picchu (young mountain), no one actually knows the original name of the ruins themselves, nor their purpose or function. Thought to have been abandoned when the Spanish invaded, local people kept the city's existence a secret until it was 'discovered' by American historian Hiram Bingham whilst looking for the 'last city of the Incas'. He thought he had found it when a local boy took him to the ruins, although it was later discoved that Vilcabama, in what is now Ecuador, was the Inca's last stronghold against the Spanish.

Above: Wayna Picchu

Some historians claim that the city was a holiday destination or an attempt to showcase and preserve Incan culture. Our guide Abi subscribes to the theory that it was a religious center - based on its location, the high quality of stone work and ornamentation and the number of temples within the city , particularly the Temple of the Condor.

Above: Amazing stonework 

In the Incan belief system Pacha Mamma, Mother Earth, is divided into three levels, each represented by an animal. The condor represents the sky, the upper level of the gods. The puma represents the middle level of humans and the snake represents the underworld. It is thought that the reason for Machu Picchu's spectacular, if precarious, location is in order to be as close to the sky as possible.

Above: Sacrifice table in the Temple of the Condor

Abi dispels lots of myths surrounding Machu Picchu - for example when it was 'discovered' and by whom. She shows us a date and two names carved on a rock which were altered by Hiram Bingham when he realised that people had been there before him but after the Incas. Although revered by archaeologists and historians, Peruvians see Hiram Bingham as another invader of their land, history and treasures. Thousands of relics were taken from Machu Picchu to American museums as a 'loan' and have yet to be returned. The first Machu Picchu guide, the local boy who took Bigham to the site, was paid just one Soles.

Lots of other mistakes were made by the first people to study Machu Picchu, who had little knowledge of Incan history. The Sun Temple was mistaken for a royal tomb, despite the fact that no human remains were ever found there and the perfect alignment of the sun through its windows during the solstice. What was originally recorded as a sun dial is actually connected to the passing of the seasons, not a day.

Above: 'Sundial'

After our tour with Abi we are free to explore the site ourselves. I had originally planned to climb to the Sun Gate, the main entrance to the city, with views over the whole of Machu Picchu. As soon as I set off mist comes rolling in from the valley and completely obscuring the ruins for minutes at a time, before blowing away again.

Not willing to trek for another hour to look at fog (I can do that in England) I walk to the Inca bridge. The narrow path hugs the sheer cliff face before arriving at an equally narrow wooden bridge. Although not made of the carefully cut stones as the rest of the city, the path is an equally incredible piece of engineering.

As the day wears on late comers fill the site, making exploring feel less and less like exploring so, having spent a good five hours there our group begins the climb down to Aguas Calientes in time for lunch and our train back to Cusco.

Jungle Trek. Day 3

On the morning of day three our group, and several other groups with different companies, go zip lining in the valley leading up to Machu Picchu. Althoug I'm excited, I'm more excited that it is already day three and I'm going to Machu Picchu tommorrow! The whole operation is very professional and it seeems to be the bigest and busiest business in the small town. There is good equiptment and clear information from the instructors, all of whom speak really good English - my Spanish is getting a bit better, but not that much!

We will be going on five zip lines including the longest and the fastest in South America. The only bit I don't like is that we have to put our hand on the wire (behind the running block) to slow down. Even with heavy gloves on this seems stupid. The zip lines go back and forth across the valley and there are even opportunities to hang upside down in our harnesses. Despite the number of people we are all processed fairly quickly, and it takes just an hour and a half to make the five crossings over the river which, when suspended from a wire, seems very far down.

Another two course lunch - avacados and spag nol - then we begin the final trek to Aguas Calientes, the town at the base of Machu Picchu. The walk is beautiful. It goes all along the train tracks, and I don't even envy the people passing in the airc conditioned 'Peru Rail' carriages. Every now and then we get a glimpse of Machu Picchu high above us. However, other than a few buildjng shapes, there is little hint as to the amazing ruins above us.

Three hours later we arrive in Aguas Calientes, a town that exists solely as a base for visiting the ruins. The town in hemmed in by the fast flowing river on one side and mountians on the other - the train tracks running right through the middle. For those who are walking instead of catching the bus tomorrow morning (i.e. me) its a 4:00 start in the morning. 'Luckily' (I tell myself) there is no hot water in our hostel, so I don't have to waste any valuable sleeping time on showering - which would be pointless anyway as tomorrow I will be climbing 1870 or so steps to the ruins.

Jungle Trek. Day 2

Day two brings the actual trekking part of our jungle trek, all ten hours of it. We start walking at 7:30am, following the river along a narrow path which clings to the steep hillside. At points we actually have to grab onto rocks and vines as the path crumbles at our feet down to the river below.

After a couple of hours the path turns away from the river and up into the hills. Its only 10:00 but the sun is already very very hot. Luckily there is the odd waterfall to cool off in. We pass fields of coffee and coca plants and the homes of the families which farm them. We stop at almost every home (they're spaced around half an hour away from each other) to buy cold drinks and bananas whilst Abi tells us about local culture and produce and bit about Incan history.

Above: Local produce - coffee and coca beans.

Above: Guinea pigs in the kitchen of a farm house

It turns out that the Incas weren't a race, but a ruling class who conquered large the Mapuche people who were living the areas that are now Ecuador, Peru and Chile. Each major city had just one Inca and the role wasn't hereditary, only the strongest and most intelligent got the job. The Incas ruled for 100 years until the Spanish conquistadors invaded in 1533. The last Inca, Inca Manco retreated to the city of Vilcabama, where he ruled for thirty or so years, sometimes raiding the Spanish or inciting revolts, before he was executed and the Spanish took over complete control of the Mapuche people.

 Above: Alex and me wearing traditional Incan face paint

Finally, after three hours of uphill we turn a bend on the path and are faced with a rocky outcrop and the highest point of the trek. From here there are views all the way along the valley from Santa Maria, where we started this morning, to todays destination - the hot springs at Santa Teresa and Machu Picchu way in the distance.

 As we descend the path gets narrow again until we reach the river, where we have a long lunch and half an hour lazing around in hammocks. I'm just dozing off when I hear Abi yell 'Vamos chicos!' and she tips me out of my hammock.The remainder of our trek is along the river where we stop to swim in a little tributary (with clearer water than the main river), cross a swing bridge and edge our way along more washed out paths half way up cliffs.

Ten hours after we left, but actually only after seven hours walking - considering all the stops - I spot the 'cable car' which will take us across the river to the long awaited hot springs. To get on the cable car we scramble up rocks and onto a little wooden platform which is then pulled over the river by a man on the other side.

There are three hot pools of varying temperatures and a mixture of trekkers and locals lounging in them. The sun is just going down turning the surrounding mountians golden. We all agree that, instead of walking, we will catch the bus to Santa Teresa - giving us an extra hour soaking our aching muscles.

Jungle Trek. Day 1

The jungle trek to Machu Picchu actually starts on a mountain overlooking the Urbamba river, a thin brown line meandering through the valley below. As far away as the river looks we're going to cycle the 2000 or so metres down to it. If we make it as far as the river, we will then go rafting in it.

Above: The Urabamba on the left, the road on the right

For three hours we wind back and forth along tarmac roads. We have helemts and gloves, but no knee pads or elbow pads. Not that they would do much good if any of us were to go over the edge or be hit by one of the many trucks and mini buses which pass, beeping their horns frantically - as if I hadn't already seen them in middle of the road coming toward me.

At the top of the valley I was cold in a jumper and my rain coat, but the temperature increases dramatically with each bend. Luckily I get to cool off every time I cycyle through the stream which intersects the road at regulat intervals as it flows down toward the river. The town at the bottom of the valley is Santa Maria, our guide Abi's home town. Every one in town knows her, partly because it is so small and partly because she is the only female guide in the area. I can{t tell if people are in awe of her or afraid of her (she is very loud). Here we have lunch (soup with rice and potatoes) and are shown our hostel for the night and have just enough time to drop our bags off before white water rafting.

From the top of the valley the river looked small and calm as it wound its way between the mountians, but up close it looks less inviting. Chocolate brown and flowing very quickly over huge boulders and between sharp rocks, floating down it in an inflatable boat seems like a very silly idea. Whilst still on land our instructor, Josef, shouts at us the various instructions he will be shouting at us in a few moments time on the river ("LEFT PADDLE", "GET DOWN") and tells us what to do if we fall in (hold on).

The rapids are grade four, although with nothing to compare them to I have no idea if thats good or bad. They look huge, but the boat takes them much better than I had expected and no one falls in, although a few people get on voluntarily.

The water is surprisingly warm and I'm actually disappointed when one of our group is against the idea of deliberately flipping the raft. Josef frequently shouts at me for not paddling because I'm too busy looking at the scenery or the huge hawks which are fishing in the river. As it starts to get dark we paddle furiously for the shore where our mini bus is waiting to take us back to the hostel.

On the drive back I dry off quickly - the van has no windows and the air is warm and tropical smelling. Its the first time in a while that I've been in a place where it's warm at night time as the high deserts of Chile and Bolivia are freezing in the evenings. Abi informs us that our trek tomorrow will take ten hours, change from the seven hour trek that was sold to us, so after dinner (more soup to start) everyone gets ready for bed. The shower is cold but I'm covered in river water and it turns out to be a relief as I haven't slept in heat like this in months.

Cusco

The Andean town of Cusco, the continent's oldest continually inhabited city, was once the Incan empire's foremost strong hold and qosq'o 'the navel of the earth'. It is now a base for planning treks to Machu Picchu or for recovering from treks to Machu Picchu.

Above: The view of Cusco from my hostel

 The 800 year old streets are lined with shops selling gloves, hats, socks, blankets and jumpers not only made from alpaca wool but with alpaca patterns on too. The balconies over hanging the fountain and statue filled plaza (a supposed rival to Arequipa's) are home to cafes and restaurants and even a Starbucks. If an establishment is not a cafe or souvineer shop, it is a tour agency selling trips to... Machu Picchu.

Above: Limonada frio over the Plaza de Armas 

Above: One of the many local women who trawl the streets dressed in

 traditional clothing and charging five soles (£1) for a photo. Many, like this one, 

have a baby alpaca or lamb with them for the extra authenticity/cute factor.

Alex and I meet up with Jack and Claire from our Uyuni tour, having previously agreed to trek to Machu Picchu together. The most famous tour is the Inca trail, which uses many of the original Incan paths to the ancient city. It is very expensive and, because only 400 people (including guides and porters) are allowed on the trail a day, it has to be booked weeks in advance. We opt instead of the more varied and increasingly popular 'Jungle Trek' - three days of moutain biking, rafting, trekking and zip lining before a final fourth day at Machu Picchu itself. Reservations about mountain biking aside, I can't wait!

Arequipa and Canyon Country

Arequipa ('A-re-key-pa') is Peru's second largest city, after Lima, and my first stop in the country. The road from Copacabana goes through rocky hills down to arid 'canyon coutry' - not the exotic jungles and mountains I imagined of Peru - but Arequipa itself is beautiful none the less.

 Above: Exotic Peru

Despite being surrounded by three volcanos - one active, one dormant and one extinct - and plagued by earthquakes almost every year since the Spanish arrived, the city's immaculate cobbled roads, white washed buildings, cathedral and main square (the most beautiful in Peru) have survived.

Above: Plaza de Armas from the top of the Cathedral

Above: Arequipa's cathedral with El Misti in the background

Within the city, surrounded by high walls and a huge gate, is the Monasterio de Santa Catalina. A little town in itself, the monastery (which is actually a nunnery) is a maze of walkways, hidden stair cases, gardens and beautiful courtyards filled with orange trees and fountains.

Founded in 1580 by a wealthy widow, who chose her nun from the most wealthy Spanish families, the complex was shut off to outsiders for three centuries whilst it's occupants lived it up in a lifestyle to which they were accustomed. Each nun had a number of servants, and even slaves, and huge food deliveries were recieved through rotating compartments to ensure privacy. Eventually the Pope sent a strict Dominican nun from Spain to sort things out and nuns still live there today in more modern quarters. I spend three hours exploring and around each corner (and there are a lot of corners) there is a room, or alley or plaza more beautiful than the next.

Having spent day looking at what Arequipa has to offer culturally, we decided to spend the next more actively - mountian biking down one of the city's volcanos, Chachani (the extict one). 6075 metres high (although we start at 4800m) the journey down takes three hours on sandy, rocky paths which wind back and forth down the volcano. We're kitted out with helmets, knee and elbow pads, our 'instructor' asks if we can ride a bike and off we go. Alex comes off, unhurt, at the first bend and I make several detours into the undergrowth. The path is either sand, on which it is impossible to steer or brake, or teeth chatteringly rocky. There are several 'short cuts' offered to us which I decline as they consist of cycling through the bushes to the next path below. The views would be amazing, but to take my eyes off the track would result in a collison with a bush, rock or other cyclist. I'm extremely relieved, shakey and exhaused when we make it to the bottom - Alex and I a good fifteen minutes behind the rest of our group. Just as I'm about to say 'never again!' Alex reminds me that part of our trek to Machu Picchu involves moutain biking....

Above: Our group at the top of Chachani

We spend the next day in Cabanaconde, a few hours out of Arequipa and home to one of the deepest canyons in the world, the Canon de Colca. In order to reach the beautiful oasis at the bottom we hike for two and a half hours down the 3191 gorge, spend the day lying by a river fed pool.... and catch mules back up. I tell myself that it is more for the experience of riding a mule than just being lazy. About half way up I begin to feel guilty as my little mule huffs and puffs and scrabbles up the rocky path. At the top I give my mule a grateful pat, which I don't think he appreciates.

Above: Sangalle 'The Oasis'.