The Long Road to Machu Picchu

Following our visit to Machu Picchu we had a couple hours in the nearby village of Aguas Calientes before catching our return train. While waiting, a distinct thought came into my mind: We are a long way from anywhere!

The sun had already set and in the twilight a crescent moon sat above the steep dark mountains. Here we sat between the Andes mountains and Amazon jungle. I felt an air of mystique that certainly came from the history and culture of the area, but also from the isolation. I reflected on our long journey to arrive at this revered location.

On a plane to Lima, Peru.  We visited during the Covid pandemic. 

Seven Days Earlier:

After a couple days in Lima we boarded a plane for Cusco. If we were to drive, the journey would take at least twenty hours to cover 684 miles! And I'm sure most of that would be on narrow winding roads and nothing like the straight-arrowed freeways we're used to in the United States.

The flight only lasted an hour and a half, but it was fascinating to peer out the window. When clouds didn't obstruct our view we saw tall snow-capped mountains. As we got closer to Cusco it felt as if the land was getting higher (and I'm sure we were getting lower). We saw little villages perched on terraced mountains and a rugged landscape. We even saw the steeply terraced Inca ruins of Tipón.

Inside the Jorge Chavez International Airport in Lima, waiting for a flight to Cusco.

A hazy view out the airplane window before our decent into Cusco.

When we landed in Cusco it felt like we were in a different world. The city itself is over 11,000 feet high in elevation. There was an old world feel with the narrow cobblestoned streets, many of them on steep inclines. The people were much more native than what I saw in Lima, being darker in color with well-defined noses and foreheads, and wearing their traditional Quechua clothing.

After a few days in Cusco it was time to keep moving. We left our hotel at 9:20 am and walked for twenty minutes with packs on our shoulders to Pavitos Street where right away we were invited to join a minivan, which we shared with six other passengers. I wasn't even sure if our van was the real deal, or just a citizen trying to earn money. We read that this was the place to go to find rides to Ollantaytambo. Either way, we took it.

The drive took a couple hours. It was amazing to me that our journey to one of the wonders of the world was over such rough infrastructure. The roads were narrow and winding. Once we had to take a detour onto a dirt road. At times we shared the road with cattle. It was fascinating to catch a glimpse of the people and buildings of these small villages.

Inside the private vehicle of a stranger on the way to Ollantaytambo.

Looking out the window of our vehicle at an Inca lady in a small Peruvian village. 

One common misconception is that Machu Picchu is super high in elevation. It's not. As we drove from Cusco, we gradually dropped in elevation. As we neared Ollantaytambo we entered the Sacred Valley, a 62-mile corridor stretching from Pisac to Machu Picchu along the the Urubamba River. Here the scenery became more breathtaking. Mountains became steeper and Inca ruins more prevalent.

We arrived in Ollantaytambo where we would spend the next three nights and use as our base to Machu Picchu. Ollantaytambo is probably the most impressive village I've ever seen. It lies nestled between steep mountain slopes with some of the best Inca ruins built onto their sides. Streets are cobblestoned and narrow, and people there dress in traditional clothing. From some places in the village you can see 19,000 foot snow-capped peaks of the Andes Mountains.

The fascinating village of Ollantaytambo.

Beyond Ollantaytambo the road system peters out. The one paved “highway” goes a few miles past the village, then takes a sharp turn to the right and into the mountains. There are dirt roads from village to village, but they too disappear. The only option left, unless you want to take a very circuitous route, is to take the train.

I believe there are more options for locals, but for the tourists there are a limited amount of trains you can take and the price to board them is higher. It is best to book well in advance.

On the second of our two full days, we walked to the station and boarded the train. This ride would take us through the Sacred Valley. Some trains have a glass ceiling so you can look up at the mountains, but ours didn't. Instead we had a view through the window, which was beautiful, but oftentimes we were too close to the mountain slope to see much.

The entire time we paralleled the clear and cold Urubamba River. We passed several lesser-known Inca ruins. The Inca Trail was also within our view at times. For the ambitious who want to walk to Machu Picchu, that's the way to go. The majestic snow-capped Mount Veronica at 19,334 feet also peeked out from time to time.  

As I rode the train and glanced out the window I had the feeling that we were getting deeper and deeper into the wilderness. My life back home was getting further away.

Boarding the train in Ollantaytambo.

The train to Machu Picchu travels through the Sacred Valley along the Urubamba River.

Terraced slopes built by the Inca, viewed from the train.

After an hour and a half we arrived near the foot of Machu Picchu in a town called Aguas Calientes. Even more so than Ollantaytambo, Aguas Calientes was surrounded by steep mountains. But unlike the others, the slopes here were covered in jungle.

The village sits on both sides of the Aguas Calientes River, which empties into the Urubamba. The town basically exists as a launching point to drive up to Machu Picchu. Once we left the train it was a short walk to where we would catch the bus. Many were there to sell us tours.

This is where the train dropped us off in Aguas Calientes.

Here we caught the bus to Machu Picchu.

The bus ride from Aguas Calientes to the parking lot at Machu Picchu was short, but impressive. It followed the river a couple miles then started the uphill push where it navigated 13 hairpin curves. The higher we got, the more impressive the view. We were surrounded by steep mountains on three sides, all cloaked in dense vegetation. It made me wonder how many other ruins were out there that were lost forever beneath the growth.

Our visit inside Machu Picchu did not disappoint. Our tour guide was excellent. It was amazing to see the ingenuity of this citadel on a mountain. I was surprised to see lamas on top, as well as megalithic carved rocks like those in Ollantaytambo and Sacsayhuamán. The only downside⸺and this was because we were there during Covid⸺was that we couldn't linger as long as we wanted. When purchasing the tickets we had to choose which “lane” we wanted to see, a number between one and four. We had to go straight through without backtracking. I lost track of time, but we probably spent 2-3 hours on top. 

Impressive view of the surrounding hills as we climb the road to Machu Picchu.

A smaller river runs down the center of Aguas Calientes.

Not knowing when we would be done, we gave ourselves a small cushion in Aguas Calientes before our scheduled return to Ollantaytambo. That gave us time to get a bite to eat and to wander through the market. It was dark by the time we boarded the train.

For our ride back we saw none of the Sacred Valley as we had before. No snow-capped mountains, no whitewashed river, no Inca ruins. Perhaps this added to the mystique. As I dozed in and out of sleep I dreamed that I was in a magical place far, far away . . . ♠

Sampling the Peruvian Plate

Everywhere I travel in the world I make an effort to sample and learn of the local cuisine. A recent trip to Peru provided a smorgasbord of food that was diverse, healthy and ancient. Perhaps more famous for its Inca ruins and archeological wonders than its culinary allure, the Peruvian cuisine is largely undiscovered on the world stage. 

The food and cooking of Peru reflect a vast array of climates, as well as a variety of contact with other countries and cultures. This South American nation extends from the Pacific coast in the west to peaks that rise above 22,000 feet in the Andes Mountains to a lush rainforest in the Amazon jungle. 

From a historical point of view, Peruvian cuisine has been influenced by waves of immigrants from Europe, Asia and Africa. These influences coalesced with a rich diet already consumed by the Inca and other Indigenous groups.

I came to Peru with my daughter, Jenna, and everyday there was something new for us to try. Below I have made a list of nearly every dish, food or drink that we encountered that I felt was a part of the Peruvian culture.
 

Lomo Saltado.  If I were to pick one as the quintessential Peruvian dish, I would choose lomo saltado. It is colorful, tasty and simple. Like many other dishes, it has influences from around the world. It was first prepared by Chinese chefs living in Peru in the nineteenth century who decided to stir-fry marinated beef (brought from Spain) with onions and tomatoes. It is served with a side of rice and French fries (made from Peruvian potatoes). Lomo saltado is a dish that will probably never become world-famous like pizza or sushi, but it is one that I imagine is eaten often in many humble Peruvian homes.
 

Chicha Morada.  Chicha Morada is a non-alcoholic beverage made from purple corn, not to be confused with chicha de jora, a fermented drink, also known as corn beer. In addition to purple corn, it is boiled with pineapple rinds, quince, cinnamon, cloves and sweetened with sugar. It is cooled and served cold. This was a pre-Colombian drink, although I'm sure they used the ingredients they had at hand (cinnamon, for example, they did not have because it comes from southern Asia). Like so many other foods in Peru, purple corn is native to the Andes Mountains.
 

Emoliente.  This warm and comforting drink we found sold on the streets of Lima. The closest thing I can compare it to is apple cider, but with lots of herbs. The vendors at their carts usually had a large cauldron from which they cooked the beverage. The brew is cooked using barley, Andean horsetail, cat's claw, linseed, alfalfa, honey, quinoa and probably whatever else they want to use. The recipe can vary from person to person. It is claimed to have medicinal qualities that boost the digestive system and help with respiratory issues. For me it was very soothing.
 

Ceviche.  In Peru, ceviche is a very traditional dish that is prepared differently than it is in other countries. Extremely flavorful, it is powered with raw onions, peppers, hot sauce, and raw fish that marinates in lime juice. For texture it is served with both dry corn (cancha) and fresh corn. It is also served with slices of sweet potato. I enjoyed getting a bite with a chunk of fish, a dab of hot sauce, a slice of red onion and a piece of corn.
 

Sopa de trigo.  "Trigo" translates to wheat, corn, or more generalized, grain. However, in this situation it refers to barley. We ate this soup as a first course, but I'm sure historically it could have been used as a full meal. It is made with beef, barley and a variety of vegetables, including potato, carrot, zapallo squash, celery and parsley. There are plenty of varieties. Ours appeared puréed with the exception of potato chunks and a leafy green. From what I've read, sopa de trigo is not usually puréed.
 

Ají de Lizas con Pollo.  “Ají” pertains to the ají amarillo chili, which has its origins in the Andes Mountains. Although it appears red, it turns yellow when cooked. It is the base for many dishes and sauces. “Liza” is a reference to papa lisa, a tuber that also originates in the Andes. It looks like a speckled potato, but is yellow on the inside. Combining the ají with the papa lisa makes for a very yellow dish. When we ate it, we decided that it had a very “earthy” flavor that reminded us of beets.— The ají de lizas was served next to a scoop of rice and grilled chicken.
 

Picarones.  These are doughnuts made of sweet potatoes, covered in a molasses-like syrup. They are light, fluffy and crispy. We bought these from a street vendor in Lima. They were invented during the colonial period to replace buñuelos from Spain. As with many other dishes in South America, they substituted a local ingredient for something that was scarce. In this case it was sweet potatoes in place of flour.
 

Breakfast.  I will admit that I have no idea what the typical Peruvian eats for breakfast. But I do know that every morning we were served breakfast in our hotel, it was basically the same thing. To drink we were served fruit juice, warm milk, and some sort of tea such as chamomile. We were offered coffee but declined. In the middle of the table was a basket with four rolls, which were a cross between a baguette and a normal roll. There was also a plate of meat and cheese, a small bowl of jam, and balls of hard butter. The amount seemed perfect to make one meat and cheese sandwich, and one of jam.
 

Ají de Gallina.  This is a very delicious dish made yellow by using ají amarillo paste. Gallina is translated as “hen,” but any type of chicken breast will do. Other ingredients such as onion, garlic, pecans, Parmesan cheese, bread and evaporated milk are added to create a creamy stew. Ours was served over slices of boiled potato and next to a heap of rice and slices of tomato. For Jenna, this was her favorite dish she ate in Peru.
 

Alfajor.  This light and flaky confection is made of flour, honey and nuts. It was brought to Peru in the 1500's from Spain, who inherited it from the Moors, who inhabited parts of the Iberian Peninsula for nearly 800 years. The name is likely of Arabic origin. I'm sure there are several varieties, but the alfajores I've seen are like mini sandwiches, with a dulce de leche filling in the middle.
 

Alpaca a la Parilla.  Grilled alpaca. I will admit that this was the most disappointing food of the entire trip. Maybe I just got a bad serving. We were hungry and ate at a small restaurant in Ollantaytambo. It took them forever to get our food and we were the only customers. The steak was tough and had a unique taste to it. Not quite like a game animal, but similar. The texture was similar to that of a game animal—kind of chewy. It was also bland. Had to use lots of salt and pepper.
 

Anticuchos.  Anticuchos are the Peruvian version of kebabs. It is meat cooked on a skewer, and usually that meat is beef heart. It is Pre-Columbian, originating in the Andes. The name comes from the Quechua language. I thought they tasted pretty good and if I didn't know better I would have never guessed it was heart. I ate it with rocoto relleno on the side.
 

Rocoto.  Rocoto peppers grow in the cool, high landscapes of the Andes Mountains and are a bit more spicy than red bell peppers. Rocoto relleno (or stuffed rocoto) contains a filling of ground beef, garlic, onions, pepper, spices and whatever else the chef desires. It may be baked in the oven, although I think mine was battered and deep-fried.
 

Milhojas.  We found this pastry being sold at a street cart across the street from the Lima Peru Temple. It is made with several stacked layers of pastry puff, filled with dulce de leche and sprinkled with powdered sugar. We sat down on the grass and ate our delicious treat. Although milhojas originated in France, it is considered part of the cuisine in several other places including Spain, Peru and other Latin American countries.
 

Chaufa.  Chaufa is a fried rice dish that originated with the Chinese who settled in Peru in the nineteenth century. It is simple and inexpensive, usually consisting of rice, scallions, eggs, chicken and soy sauce. My experience eating chaufa was memorable. We ate it at a lone table off the side of a dirt road in the Peruvian Amazon, cooked by a lady named Dora. We enjoyed conversation and a glass of Coke while we ate our chaufa.
 

Inca Kola.  The national soda is undoubtedly Inca Kola. Interestingly, it was developed by a Brit who immigrated to Peru. Although it has a sweet fruity flavor similar to bubble gum, it is the lemon beebrush, native to South America, that gives the drink its unique flavor.
 

Pollo a la Brasa.  Probably my favorite thing I ate in Peru was Pollo a la brasa, or rotisserie chicken. It was tasty and tender. It was served with a mayonnaise sauce and ají verde chilli pepper sauces. The chicken is rubbed with spices and slowly cooked on a spit over coals or flame. Although you can find roasted chicken in many other countries, according to the internet, its roots are in Peru. I loved pollo asado in Spain with alioli sauce, but what I ate in Peru seemed to be a step up.
 

Sopa de Chuño.  Chuño is one of Peru's more fascinating specimens. It's a freeze-dried potato whose origins are in the high Andes of Peru and Bolivia. Traditionally the potatoes are spread on the ground where they are frozen by night and sun-dried by day. After a few days of this they are stepped on with bare feet. This allows for excess water to be squeezed out and detaches some of the peels so they come off easier. The drying process is repeated until all the water is gone. The dried potatoes are then rinsed in water and subsequently dried to create white chuño. If unwashed they are called black chuño.  

The final product can be stored for years and has been considered a staple in Andean cuisine. It can be ground into flour and used in soups, which is how I assume it was used in our dish. We ate it as a first course at San Blas Market in Cusco. I couldn't tell you everything that was in it, but it was very hardy, thick, and came with a couple chunks of potato and garnished with parsley.
 

Caldo de Gallina.  Throughout our two weeks in Peru I was eying one item that I saw on nearly every menu: caldo de gallina, or chicken broth. I knew it wasn't just broth because occasionally I would catch a glimpse of it and what I saw was a beautiful brothy, creamy, and hearty stew with a chunk of chicken and hard-boiled egg.⸺On our last night in Cusco I knew it was time to pull the trigger and see if it lived up to expectations. Well . . . they served it in a bowl where it looked as good as I'd hoped it would. In addition to the piece of chicken and hard-boiled egg, it came with spaghetti noodles and diced scallions. Everything tasted wonderful . . . except . . . that piece of chicken! Oh how I had high expectations for the chicken! I'm not even sure which part of the chicken it was, but either it had no meat, or the meat was so tough that it tasted like an old hen that can't lay eggs anymore and is slaughtered to eat (after all, gallina technically translates more specifically to “hen” instead of “chicken"). Oh, well. You can't win them all! Now I have an excuse to try it again or just make it at home. I think caldo de gallina has a lot of potential. ♠

A Peruvian Bullfight

On our drive into Ollantaytambo we passed a circular stadium with a dirt interior. The first thought that crossed my mind was, maybe that's a cock-fighting colosseum.

A few hours later we were climbing tall, mammoth ruins on the edge of town when we peered over the edge and to my surprise saw the colosseum—but this time full of people!

An hour later, and now done with the ruins, I asked a lady sitting at a store-front, “Are there rooster-fights in Ollanta?” 

“Yes,” she said. “They're over that way,” pointing in the same direction as the colosseum. I was stoked! With one hour left of daylight, I knew exactly where we'd go.

We walked through a dirt parking lot and over an embankment. Already I could see the townspeople sitting on the hillside. Below them was the outdoor colosseum with seats full and spectators overflowing. We walked along a dirt path and slipped between lines of people and found a spot on the rock wall where we could stand and see most of the arena.

The setting was beautiful. As the sun lowered in the valley, a special glow radiated on the mountains that towered above us. Storm clouds teased from the upper peaks and the scent of rain blew all around.

As of now, there was nothing happening in the ring. A patient crowd sat on walls and leaned over fences, waiting for something to begin. From time to time a lady would enter the arena selling beer or Coke and the crowd would cheer and whistle and she would smile back.

On the far side of the arena, near the back entrance, I saw a livestock truck attempt to back up. “Maybe he's bringing the roosters,” I suggested.

Jenna, who is much more observant than myself, responded, “No, those animals have horns.”

Within a few minutes a group of matadors entered the arena. They paraded to the the crowd, attracting cheers and applause. It was then that I realized that this was no cock-fighting colosseum, but a bullfighting ring!

I was excited. I had only seen one bullfight in my life, and that was over twenty years ago in Valencia, Spain. But that was a bullfight on horseback, or rejoneo, and is not favored by true aficionados. Perhaps this was my chance to view the real thing.

Then, from within another entryway, a bull raced into the ring and the crowd cheered with excitement. With a rope still lassoed around his neck, a group of adrenaline-filled helpers tugged at the rope and pulled the resisting animal close enough to the outer ring where they could undo the loop from his head.

The bull was free!

In typical fashion the matador waved his red cape and taunted the bull to come his way. The bull lowered his head and charged forward, barely missing the man.

The scene was repeated over and over. There wasn't one matador, but three in the ring at once; and each stood in a different section of the ring.

The crowd was fun to watch. They cheered with every pass and yelled out “Bravo!” One section was reserved for the band who played their drums and tubas, keeping the atmosphere upbeat.—I was also fascinated to see a boy, no more than eight years old, sit on the edge of the ring with his legs dangling over. He had to hustle and move his legs on one instance when the bull came too close.

A lady next to us had a box of beverages and several homemade desserts she was selling. She turned and asked if we wanted a beer. 

“No, thanks,” I said in Spanish, “but we'll take a piece of cake.”

After the matador, it was time for the banderillo. I turned to Jenna and explained that this is the guy that has a dowel with a steel point beneath his cape and makes the first thrust into the bull's withers.

[Please forgive me if I make a mistake in terminology. I assumed this was now the second act of the bullfight when the banderillo makes his entrance. In a true bullfight, I believe, he does not use a cape, but only carries two dowels called banderillas. I did not know if this bullfight in Peru followed the same suit.]

When I watched my first bullfight twenty years ago, this was the point when my wife first saw blood running down the flanks and realized that the aim was to kill the bull. Mentally, she had known it all along, but this was the first time that the reality of it had sunk in.

I watched the banderillo draw the bull with his cape and the bull made several passes. Then he put down his cape, raised the sword and the crowd cheered. Then he returned to his blockade at the edge of the ring, put down the cape and lit a cigarette. His turn was over.

I thought that was odd. 

Then, a cowboy-looking macho guy came out with his lasso, whirled it through the air, and flung it toward the bull. Twice he missed, but the third time was a charm and the one ton animal was pulled and persuaded out of the arena and back into the truck. 

This entire scene was repeated one more time. I turned to the lady who sold us the dessert. “Why don't they kill the bull,” I asked. 

“It is prohibited,” she replied, “and has been for about three or four years.” 

Interesting. Animal-right ideology had made its way to Peru. I knew that in some parts of Spain bullfighting had been banned altogether and old bull rings had been converted into shopping malls. But Spain is in the midst of European progessivism, while Peru, I thought, would be sheltered, especially this deep into the Andes. 

Jenna wasn't saddened that they didn't kill the bull. That's how she preferred it. A little sport, then let the bull run free. 

I, on the other hand, felt disappointed. I understood how some can see it as animal cruelty, but the suffering of the bull, in reality, isn't very long. Maybe fifteen minutes. Instead I see a world where the true masculine things in our society are becoming erased. And believe me, bullfighting is truly a masculine sport. 

I was, however, happy that we happened upon this unusual spectacle. As I walked back toward the old town of Ollantaytambo, with the fresh breeze at my face and the giant Andes mountains all around, I was grateful to be here. Grateful for all the variety of life. ♠

 

 

 

Sun Gate of Inti Punku Cachiccata

We crossed the river on the old Inca Bridge and walked along a trail at the foot of a steep mountain slope. The trail, they say, is ancient and was used by the Inca to haul their quarried stone.

Just a few minutes into the hike we came across an old wall and structures. The rooms were made of gray rock and bushes grew within. The tops of the walls had collapsed. 

What a beautiful sight! To our right tumbled the Urubamba River, whose waters would eventually reach the Amazon. Humongous mountains towered all around. On the other side of the valley was the elusive Mount Veronica, whose snow-capped peak was now veiled behind a band of constant clouds. At times there were pockets when we could see a flank, or perhaps a quick glimpse of the summit. But in an instant it was veiled again. Mount Veronica towered at 19,334 feet. 

Urubamba River.

Village of Ollantaytambo.

In the beginning, the trail gained elevation slowly. Across the valley to our right we could see the town of Ollantaytambo and the massive ruins of the same name on the hillside. 

Our destination was the Sun Gate of Inti Punku Cachiccata, an Inca ruin near the crest of the mountain. We would be climbing over 4,000 feet to get there, and I prayed dearly that my body would allow me to do it. 

One of many old ruins on the trail to Inti Punku.

Trail to Inti Punku.

Village of Cachiquata in the Sacred Valley of Peru.

After the first resting point, which included a stone hut with shade, the trail took a sharp turn and began to climb even steeper. Here we could get see a shack where someone lived with a dog outside barking. It is mind-boggling to me that someone would live this far up. There were no roads anywhere near here! 

The foliage on these steep hillsides was not lush. From a distance they appeared bare, but walking through it was obvious that there was plenty of growth. Although we were above 10,000 feet, it reminded me much of what could be found in a desert: cactus, yucca-like plants the height of a human, and another plant similar to a manzanita tree. 

Ten minutes later we could hear the sound of flowing water. It was a rivulet shooting down the slope. It ran in a stone canal . . . one that had probably been in use for 800 years or longer. The Inca were masters of controlling water. 

Shaded rest-house along the trail.

The trail took a sharp turn and began to climb even steeper.

Shack located high on the mountain slope.

Here we could hear the sound of flowing water.

The Inca were masters at channeling water.

As we continued, the trail became steeper. We passed a team of Peruvian natives who were trotting down the hill with a group of pack horses. My guess is that they hauled them up for hikers. 

We passed the old quarry site where stones were hewn from the mountain and hauled down to the valley. The whole idea of the quarry being so far away blows my mind. Some of the rocks at Ollantaytambo are so big that they're considered megalithic. And how did they haul them down without pack animals like horses or oxen? 

We also saw a few thimble-shaped stone structures called chullpas. These were burial tombs used by a pre-Inca people. They are scattered around several places in Peru. Originally the corpses were buried in the fetal position along with some of their belongings, but nowadays the chullpas are empty. 

Chullpas.

Looking upward toward to old Inca quarry site.

Stone remains at the quarry site.

Around this point the slope of the trail really gave us a beating. I am no longer young, and health issues have taken a toll. We continued forward, albeit slowly. 

Much to our surprise we found cattle at this high elevation near 11,000 feet. The cows nibbled on grass and basked in the sun as if it were nothing. 

Beyond the cattle we came across another group of Inca houses. With the exception of the roof they were very well preserved. Each had a door and inside the room were several niches along the wall. 

We took a break here⸺on the front lawn of these old homes. And what a view! Mount Veronica rose even more majestically from this altitude, now clearing up from cloud cover. We sat on the fluffy green grass that felt as soft as any bed. We sipped Gatorade and ate a candy bar. 

From here we now had a good, albeit distant view of the sun gate. The stone edifice appeared as a tiny silhouette on the top of the mountain, with a piercing hole on its face.⸺We were getting closer! 

Much of the trail had stone steps built into it, probably ancient in origin.

High-elevation cow.

Old structure along the trail, perhaps homes for the quarry workers.

Jenna takes a break on the "front lawn."

Mount Veronica, elevation 19,334 feet.

Mount Veronica on right and sun gate on the left.

We spent the next half hour completing the final ascent. When we arrived, it was probably the grandest view I've ever seen. Not only did we have a front-row seat to view Mount Veronica, but we could also see the other side of the mountain, further into the Sacred Valley. Our panoramic view gave sight to several other snow-capped peaks, each with their own rugged destination. 

Inti Punku, literally translated from Quechua, means “sun door.” The stone building, which I believe is unfinished, has a set of stairs leading to an opening in a wall. Crossing the threshold through the door brings the visitor into an open-air room, with walls only a few feet high. Beyond this ancient temple stands Mount Veronica, which, from the right angle, can be framed through the door. 

The Sun Gate possibly worked as an astronomical observatory. It lines up perfectly with the constellation Pleiades and is closely associated with Winter Solstice and the Andean New Year. 

Sun Gate of Inti Punku Cachiccata.

Looking south from the sun gate.

It is interesting that Inti Punku served as an inter-dimensional bridge between the world of the living and dead. I have heard other Native American myths of there being a portal to the afterlife and I would love to find the origin of these beliefs. 

My altimeter measured our elevation at 12,820 feet. We were not, however, the tallest peak on our hillside. To our south stood a very rocky peak and I noticed a well-used trail leading to it up the backside. It would be at least a couple miles one-way if we were to go there, but we had neither the time nor energy for that. 

We spent an hour at the sun gate, taking pictures from every angle imaginable. We knew we had to relish every second. 

The Sun Gate of Inti Punku Cachiccata should not be confused with the sun gate at Machu Picchu.

Looking east into the Sacred Valley and Ollantaytambo. Other high peaks in the distance.

Sun Gate as seen from inside.

For our journey down, we chose to go a different route. Instead of the long drawn-out route to the Inca Bridge, we chose one that descended immediately and came out at the village of Cachiqata. 

This path was not as well maintained as the other. In some places it might have been considered a mule trail and there were times we had to make a decision between a right or left fork. 

As expected, there was a lot of zig-zagging. Down below the trail we could see a group of three horses playing around and running through the bushes. A small herd of cattle fed on a grassy slope. 

There weren't as many Inca ruins along this section, although we did find another chullpa. But this route was great for displaying Mount Veronica. By the time the clouds had cleared out, her beautiful white flanks radiated in splendor. 

Lone horse seen on the hike down.

Looking back up the steep slope.

Feeding cattle on the middle slopes.

The rugged slopes of Mount Veronica were very prominent on the hike down.

The view as we began to approach the village of Cachiquata.

At last we arrived on the outskirts of the village. I was a bit nervous here because I didn't know if the trail led through someone's backyard or across their property. But we traversed without incident. 

We walked through someone's farm. We saw no one, but passed pigs, ducks and different-looking cattle. Some of the modest dwellings were protected by stone walls. A couple of school boys strolled in front of us. 

Farm animals in Cachiquata.

Then Jenna noticed the cemetery. There was no sign and no gate, but a couple dozen obvious graves. Since I can't pass up a cemetery, we cautiously stepped inside the grounds and looked around. Most of the burials were marked with wooden crosses or an oval of rocks. Some had flowers growing inside the oval and others were decorated with figurines of Jesus or Mary. Wild grass grew all around and there was no attempt to have it manicured. I didn't know if we were allowed to be there, so we only stayed five minutes, then continued on our way. 

At this point it didn't take long until we were on the valley floor. This was the Sacred Valley, a long corridor that has been sacred to the Inca for hundreds of years. Once again we crossed the Urubamba River and took the only road available back to Ollantaytambo. By the time we arrived in the village the sun had set and darkness had begun to move in over the mountains. ♠

 

Cemetery on outskirts of Cachiquata.