Our little four-seater Cessna 172, probably as old as us, banked low and steeply to the right above the Peruvian desert, our stomachs following close behind.  Javier, our co-pilot, pointed out the window and said, ‘Can you see the monkey?’  And sure enough, 200 metres below us, scrawled out in the sun-baked desert rocks was a cute little monkey with an exaggerated curled tail.  The monkey had followed aerial sightings of the whale, fish, condor, spider and astronaut, all carved out of the harsh Peruvian desert.  Yes, we were in Nasca and checking out the famous Nasca Lines from high above.  Very cool.

We had stopped at a couple of the towers that you can climb to see these famous lines, geoglyphs and animal figures but decided to splurge and do the 30 minute scenic flight that provided the full picture.  The experience at the airport was a bit chaotic with 12 different airlines vying for your business and everything being negotiable, including the size of your plane, flight path, cost, method of payment, even credit card fees.

But it all came together once we got in the air and could take in the dramatic desert, the green strip of land made fertile by the river running through it and these magnificent designs, shapes and creatures all formed in the desert by long lost people over 1,500 years ago.  Experts can’t agree on exactly how or why these markings were made in the desert but their mystery adds to their value and the very special experience of seeing them from above.

While we were up there we also saw a dog, hummingbird, flower, flamingo, hands and frigate amongst all the intersecting lines that often go many kilometres.  The whole experience was a bit mind-boggling as well as awe-inspiring and stomach-churning.

Then it was up, up and away as we left the coast and wound our way up barren desert mountains towards the ancient Incan capital of Cusco.  But Cusco is over 650 kms (400 miles) away on the other side of the towering Andes mountains and we knew it would be a hard push over the next couple of days on these slow winding roads to get there.

But push we did, the first afternoon climbing to 4,100 metres (13,500 feet) on a road like a sidewinder snake making its way up the mountains.  On the high plains near the top we saw our first vicunas, a threatened wild camelid with its very cute small head and long neck, looking a bit like an alpaca or llama.

Out of breath and out of light we camped that night in the secure grounds of a restaurant in the small mountain town of Puquio at 3,100 metres (10,100 feet), knowing we had covered less than a quarter of the distance to Cusco.

The next day it was more of the same, climbing through the mountains to a peak of 4,550 metres (14,950 feet) and for two hours crossing the high plains above 4,000 metres.  This was a magic place, long open plains of tuffy grass, vicunas, llamas and alpacas grazing in large herds, a beautiful blue sky as far as you could see.  Shallow lakes dotted the rolling green plains, even a few flamingos going about their business.

There were no jagged peaks, snow capped mountains or hanging glaciers in sight – we were on the top of the world.  I never would have imagined this scene at such an altitude.  And we later learned that we had crossed the continental divide, meaning that as we descended the little creeks flowing with us would eventually drain into the mighty Amazon River and start their long trip to the Atlantic Ocean.

During the course of the day we dropped down to below 2,000 metres and twice climbed back up to 4,000 metres, majestic scenery in all directions.  The roads were good, the traffic was light and the endless switchbacks, hairpin turns and steep roads provided spectacular views on a continuous loop.  For a couple of hours we followed the fast flowing Pacachaca River through its narrow gorge with it’s near-vertical walls on both sides.  I can’t overstate the extraordinary beauty we saw on this drive and how we were wowed by the whole experience, despite pulling into historic Cusco ten hours after leaving camp.

Ah, Cusco.  Capital of the ancient Inca people, nestled amongst the mountains at 3,500 metres, today arguably the go-to tourist destination for all of South America because it is the launch pad for visits to the iconic Machu Picchu site.  In addition to Machu Picchu there are a handful of other can’t miss ruins in the nearby mountains and the city itself is packed with history, culture, magnificent churches, plazas, palaces, colour and local flavour.  Julie and I planned to spend a couple of days here to take in all the sites.

And as it happens, I’ve been to Cusco before.  Way back when I was a young lad 41 years ago I did some serious trekking in the Andes, including the Inca Trail and visiting Machu Picchu, Cusco and the rest.  I still have strong memories of the whole experience but was looking forward to matching those memories with today’s reality.

We started our day at the Incan ruins of Sacsaywaman, which of course everyone calls Sexy Woman, situated on a hill overlooking Cusco and only about 100 metres from where we camped.  Sacsaywaman is historically significant because it was the scene of the last stand of the last Incan king against the overwhelming forces of the Spanish in 1533.  Many thousands of Incan warriors died at the scene although the king managed to escape which only prolonged the inevitable.

We explored the remains of this great centre and marvelled at the architecture of the stone walls which were pieced together in random shapes without mortar and have withstood war, earthquakes, looters and tourists for 500 years.  Sacsaywaman was a great way to start the day.

Cusco was the ancient capital of the Incan empire which stretched from today’s northern Chile to southern Colombia.  The Spanish destroyed much of what the Incans built but they in turn built a number of fabulous buildings, including a cathedral, many churches, palaces, plazas and other buildings which still stand today.  While there are still some remnants left over from the days of the Inca, most of what visitors see today are from those who destroyed the Incan empire and dissolved their culture.

 

Nevertheless, Cusco is very cool.  We walked amongst the plazas, churches and narrow cobblestone streets for most of the day, absorbing the historic significance of the city and the colonial buildings which remain today.  Women in traditional dress still walk the streets and you can see many indigenous faces amongst the locals.  We also bought tickets for Machu Picchu and the train trip to take us to the base of that mountain.  And I enjoyed a bit of reminiscing and déjà vu-ing from my time there more than four decades earlier.

But visiting Machu Picchu and the surrounding ruins in what is called the Sacred Valley is not cheap.  The train trip from Ollantaytambo to Agua Calientes, a two hour ride, is US$110 round trip per person.  Entry into Machu Picchu is $50 per person, the shuttle bus trip up to the ruins is $24 and a ticket to get into the other ruins in the valley is $40.  So for two people you’re looking at US450 – what call a major tourist jab.

But it was worth every penny.  We drove up and over the mountains surrounding Cusco and descended into the famed Sacred Valley, carved into the mountains by the raging Rio Urubamba.  From the Incan town of Ollantaytambo, continuously inhabited by Incans for 1300 years, we caught the PeruRail train down the narrow gorge to the isolated town of Macchu Picchu Pueblo (also called Agua Calientes).

Wedged between high vertical walls of the stone mountains and banked by two rivers, this town offered the nearest civilisation to Machu Picchu and is a choke point for transient tourists.  We caught a shuttle bus which took us up more than 20 dramatic steep dirt switchbacks until we finally arrived at the gates of Machu Picchu.

This iconic Incan city, lost in the jungle and preserved for centuries because the Spanish never found it, only ‘discovered’ in 1911, probably used as either an elaborate ceremonial site or perhaps the king’s imperial retreat, is built on the cliff top of a bend in the river about 1350 metres (4,400 feet) above the river. The site commands extraordinary views in all directions, both looking down into the abyss of the narrow river gorge and up to the snow-capped mountains.  And acting as backdrop to the whole scene is Waynu Picchu, a mountain pinnacle that overlooks the whole site, like the ultimate guard to this ultimate site.

Gasping for oxygen at these high levels and gasping in amazement at what we were seeing, Julie and I first climbed up to the highest level of the site for panoramic views of all the ruins and their steep terraces which the Incans used to grow corn, potatoes and other crops.  Then it was down into the ruins themselves, sometimes fighting the maddening crowds, other times finding quiet areas which we had all to ourselves.    A few fat and happy llamas grazed on the grass amongst the ruins, capping off a perfect scene.

As the afternoon waned and the sun lowered its guard the crowds slowly cleared out and we shared the ruins with only a handful of people.  We couldn’t get enough of the setting and the wonder of what it must have been like to live in such a grand place 700 years ago.  The guards finally blew their whistles and shepherded us out but we were on the last bus down the mountain.

And for me the visit to Machu Picchu had added meaning because I had been carrying the memories of my first visit for 41 years.  The site of the ruins was much bigger than I remembered and the dramatic setting perched so high on vertical cliffs with high mountains all around had deteriorated in my mind.  On my first visit I had climbed the overlooking peak of Waynu Picchu to watch the sun rise, today we just admired its vertical grandeur.

After catching the last train back to the patiently waiting Tramp in Ollantaytambo we didn’t tuck in until after midnight and woke to Easter morning with blue skies and glorious mountains all around us.  In Peru Easter is only a religious celebration and there were no Easter eggs, Easter bunnies or chocolate anywhere to be seen.  Julie was very disappointed about the chocolate part.

We explored the Incan ruins of Ollantaytambo, perched precariously on the steep mountain overlooking the village.  As we caught our high altitude breath after climbing the steep terraces and gazed down on the magnificence of the Sacred Valley we remembered that last year on Easter Sunday we were in New Orleans watching three different parades, joining the street parties amongst all the glitter and frivolity and drinking too much.  The contrast between last year and this year couldn’t be greater.

We followed the Urubamba River up the Sacred Valley, goggling at the steep mountain sides, high terraced plots and quaint villages.  At Pisac we switchbacked our way up to another set of Incan ruins, this one famous for its elaborate and extensive terraces.

At the sleepy town of Sicuani we headed south up and over the mountains and as the late afternoon sun did its magic on the rolling hills we passed the 4,000 metre mark at Lake Langui Layo. We climbed more up a rough dirt track and found a dramatic place to camp overlooking the lake which provided panoramic views of the mountains all around.  Our camp that night was at a dizzying 4,340 metres, or 14,235 feet, our highest camp by far, bringing on a shortness of breath for the smallest of tasks, lack of appetite, exploding beers, restless sleep and a general dull roar between the ears.

Our time amongst the Incans was now behind us but we still had more to see in Peru, more switchbacks to negotiate, more amazing places to see and more of these wonderful Andes mountains.