DAY 1:

The view towards the very beginning of the trek. If you zoom in very closely, you can see a red roof, which was where our first campsite was.

Stumbling out of the van weary-eyed after a 3.30am start out of Cusco, we found ourselves in the sleepy village of Challacancha. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but for some reason I thought the start point of the Salkantay Trek, the well-known alternative to the now world-famous Inca Trail, would have a little more fanfare around it. Or at least a “Welcome to the Salkantay Trek” sign. Nothing would have otherwise told me that this small collection of huts was the starting point of our 75 km journey over the next few days, taking us over snowcapped peaks, rocky passes, raging water bodies and this tiny little jungle known as the Amazon rainforest. All in our quest to find ourselves in one of the wonders of the world, and the most famous ruin in the whole Incan Empire - Machu Picchu.

Starting off with a couple of “easy” switchbacks (nothing is easy at 3600m above sea level), we were told that it would be an easy day. As I started to lose my breath, I looked down to check my Strava app. The realisation that we had walked less than 1km made the scale of the task very apparent. Trudging on, I tried to keep myself near or at the front of the pack so that I wouldn’t find myself too far behind every time I picked up my camera. We eventually made it onto the first of many “Incan flats”, which we learnt was code for undulating terrain, but truthfully it was pretty smooth sailing all the way to Soraypampa, our first campsite of the day. I use the word campsite very loosely, because in many ways it was almost a luxury lodge. With our own private chefs and round glass domes that we’d be able to see stars from later that night, it’s pretty safe to say that my expectations were well met, and then some.

After the first of many delicious meals (as a side point, I think this trek has ruined my expectations of what food and lodging should look like on these multi-day treks), we geared up for our acclimatisation hike up to Humantay Lake, a mere 4,2000m above sea level. Slowly but surely, we found ourselves on the edge of this lovely turquoise lake, closed by glaciers and mountains around us. Feeling alright, I think I was starting to get used to the altitude, but I knew that this was just the warm up and that the real challenges were to come. Lakeside, our guides started to introduce us to Incan traditional religious beliefs. They explained that the Quechua people saw the universe divided into three realms, with each realm represented by an animal of symbolic meaning. The spiritual realm was associated with the condor, which signified the link between the heavens and the world. The physical realm was represented by the puma, and was connected to values of strength and courage. Lastly, the underworld was characterised by the serpent, signifying knowledge and wisdom.

Leaving an offering to the earth goddess Pachamamma to grant us safe passage, we headed back to camp, arriving just as the sun was disappearing behind the adjacent mountains. After an early dinner, most people were tired and decided to rest for the big day ahead. Unfortunately for my sleep though, for the first time in my life, I could see the milky way with my naked eyes. It was honestly pretty surreal, and so I was determined to shoot, even if it meant losing sleep for it. Warned against leaving our campsite, I scurried around camp trying to find compositions and to find ways to incorporate the sky domes into my shot, without being a creep and disturbing people. It was only after the last sky dome turned off their lights did I realise that I too had a big hike the next day, and that I very much needed the rest.

DAY 2:

We woke up before dawn to the pleasant surprise of hot coca tea delivered to our door - a welcomed treat considering it was less than zero degrees outside. Today we would be tackling the famous Salkantay Pass, and it was by all accounts supposed to be the toughest day. Setting out as the surrounding mountains were dabbled with the faintest hues of an orange alpenglow, we began our ascent up. From our camp at 3,900m, we’d climb up to 4,630m, before the rapid descent all the way to our next camp below 3000m. The first part of our journey was a 7km ascent, supposedly doable in under three hours, and was divided into three steep climbs, connected by more Incan Flats. Known as the “gringo” (foreigner) killer, the readily available horses at the base of the mountain to carry strugglers up was a clear sign that this was serious stuff.

Being my first real multi-day trek, as well as my first time at anything near this altitude, I wanted to find out how I’d cope in these conditions. I was walking with a point to prove to myself, trying to show myself that I could make it. Prior to the trip, I was admittedly slightly apprehensive - the impact of altitude was a big unknown, and I just wasn’t sure whether I was fit enough. This certainly wasn’t helped by the fact that I was still just recovering from an illness (from a 10 day alcohol-filled rugby tour), which was then followed up by a week roughing it up in the Amazon rainforest. In my head, I was nowhere close to being in optimal conditions for this. In the end though, I did find a combination of the scenic views and random chitchat with the people around me was enough to distract me, and before long a few of us had reached the pass. I won’t lie and say I was completely fine, but having reached the top, I felt alright. I even started to feel slightly confident in my trekking ability.

From the pass itself, frankly there wasn’t some big expansive landscape or viewpoint. In fact, we were largely enveloped by four colossal mountains - Salkantay, Humantay (where we were yesterday), Pumasillo and Tacarhuay. We stood directly in Salkantay’s shadow, which towered over us at 6,270m. After the last of the group had made it up and the accompanying high-fives and group photos, we each brought out a small stone brought over from Humantay Lake. Just as we had the day before, we made a rock pile, known as an apacheta, as an offering to Pachamamma. We each held up three coca leaves in the air, representing the three realms, as the guides prayed to the four mountains, and each of us were told to make a wish. I should have prayed for better knees.

As we began our descent down the steep and rocky path, it felt like walking on a giant slope of marbles. Every step I took, I could feel the pain shooting up to my knees. From the front of the group, I slowly drifted further and further towards the back, truthfully struggling to keep up. Suddenly, the prospect of a horse was very appealing. In spite the stunning views, the journey down to lunch was 3 hours of near endless misery. Arriving at our lunch stop, I was looking forward to a much needed break, but following situation was presented to us: The group was slightly behind schedule, and we had about 10km or so to go. The sun was going to set in three or so hours. A previous group took around four. If we wanted to avoid walking in the dark, we would need to go VERY fast. Despite the pain radiating out of my knees, my spirits were renewed. Nothing gets me going quite like a challenge. I wanted to get off the mountain as quick as possible, and I could see about half the group felt similarly. After gobbling down a quick lunch, we set off on our (first) race against time.

As we left the mountains, the snowcap peaks began being replaced by lush green jungle.

Spotting “home” from a few km away, this gave us the much needed boost to finish our trek on time and before the sun set.

The conditions after lunch improved slightly, and spurred on by the prospects of a warm shower and a cozy bed, we made good progress. While no less steep, the hard rocks slowly transformed into a dirt trail, as we left the high altitudes of the mountains behind and started skirting along the edges of the Amazon Rainforest. While the legs were hurting, spirits remained quite high. As the trail started to flatten out, in the far off distance we saw some far off huts, and we knew that we were in the final few kilometres. Seeing as we had begun to rapidly lose light, I put away my camera for the first time, thereby going into “speed mode”. With the final stretch being on road, we pushed on towards our accommodation. With one final knoll to climb, we saw a sign for “Collpapampa”, and a series of glorious looking huts behind. Elation. None of us had ever been here, but it felt like home. What was more amazing was that we had done the journey in 2 hours 10 minutes, and that we had more than half an hour before sunset. Especially for a novice trekker, 25km at altitude is nothing to scoff at, and while we were all knackered by the end, I think we all felt that overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment.

Boy did I sleep like a log that night.

DAY 3:

After the previous day’s efforts, today was a much needed “rest day” with a relatively relaxed 10km of walking, mostly along dirt roads or jungle paths. Especially as the vegetation thickened and the mosquitoes started to swarm, it was hard to imagine that 24 hours ago we were walking above 4000m in the Andean mountains. Because the trekking was less strenuous, we had more time and energy to engage with local Incan traditions, or just get involved with shenanigans. Some highlights include when our guides introduced us to this berry that was used for face painting, and ended up drawing traditional (and a few very untraditional) drawings on people’s faces, finding a giant wild 9-month old pumpkin by the trail, which of course trust a group of Singaporeans to take and carry off for dinner, as well as playing football in what must have been one of the highest pitches in Peru, if not the world.

Around a bend, we found two vans waiting for us, and which delivered us to a local coffee plantation, where we were taught how to make local coffee. It was a little bit out of place in our trekking expedition, but it was a nice change of pace, and was also just good coffee (I ended up buying a couple bags of beans back). Getting back in the van, we drove a bit further to our camp, where we dropped our things off had a quick lunch, and then set off to the local hotsprings. Despite the bustle of hundreds of locals and tourists, we managed to carve out a spot for ourselves, and found ourselves “playing rock”. For recovery, we alternated between the lovely warm hot-spring water, and a waterfall of glacial water straight from the mountains. Standing under the waterfall for up to five numbingly cold minutes, I could feel some of the tension and soreness leaving my body, especially in my shoulders. Exactly what the doctor ordered. All in all, not the most eventful or strenuous day, but it was certainly what was needed after the day before. With Day 4 expected to be another tough day, I’m glad that we had the chance to take it easy and rest.

Day 4:

This view of the valley from halfway up the mountain was probably one of the last moments I had to shoot before the fog immersed everything.

Day 4 - the final day of trekking. We had only covered around 50 out of the 75km of the route, so there was still a long way to go. Setting out in the dark, we proceeded to climb again. Today our goal was to get our first glimpse of Machu Picchu from afar via Llactapata Pass, before heading back down and then pushing on for the final stretch of the journey. The body, while feeling marginally better, was admittedly still quite worn down, but being the last day, I pulled myself together to carry on. As we started to climb, a thick fog started to roll in. Just typical. It very quickly became pointless for me to keep my camera in hand, so I put it away and soldiered on. As the trail went on, I was becoming noticeably quiter, and while nobody told me explicitly, I figured I already had a slight grimace on my face as I ended up yo-yoing between the front and the back. With the conditions worsening, it is needless to say we did not get the sneak peak of Machu Picchu we had so desired. There were two consolations. First was that this was not there were three potential viewpoints of Machu Picchu, and that each was supposedly better than the last. Second were the incredible potato chips passed around, perhaps unsurprising given potatoes originated in the region, and that there were over 4000 varieties of potatoes found in Peru.

We had no luck at the second viewpoint either, but come the third, our guide told us to wait. He looked at his watch, then took out a few leaves and started praying to Pachamamma, and then turned to us and said that by 1030, we would be able to see Machu Picchu. We all waited around, looking at the distant silhouettes of mountains, waiting for our favourite Incan ruin to show itself. For nearly an hour, we (along with every other group at this stage of the trek) close to the mountain’s edge as the clouds and mist teased us. One of us would point at something before another would say they were completely wrong, and that Machu Picchu was instead there (pointing again in the wrong way). By some magic, at 1025, the clouds begin to slowly part, and by 1030 we had a view of Machu Picchu. Like clockwork. Not a great one, mind you, but it was enough. I had now officially seen laid my own eyes on another one of the 7 Wonders of the World. I don’t know what sorcery or religious beliefs had allowed for such control over the weather, but sign me up please.

A real tease as to what we were going to see tomorrow. Clarity and contrast sliders maxed out.

The way down was an uneventful two hours, but painful. However I felt at the end of day 2, this was much worse. Every step of the way felt like walking on fire, and at this point was genuinely concerned whether I was doing permanent damage to my knees. At our lunch break, we were presented two options to get to Aguas Calientes, the town which sits at the foot of Machu Picchu. We would all need to walk to a nearby hydro-electric damn about 2km away, but from there we could either wait around an hour and a half and then take a 30 minute train ride over, or we could walk the remaining stretch, which was another 10km and 2-3 hours of walking. My body was spent. My legs were gone. All I wanted to do was to lie down and take a big fat nap…. yeah I know I’m not fooling anyone, am I? Of course I was going to force myself to walk, even if it was the death of me (I can hear anyone who knows me groaning and then being like “yeah… this checks out”). Huddling up together, the eight of us came up with a plan - not only were we going to walk the distance, but we were going to beat the train there. After some quick math, we realised we weren’t being entirely crazy, and so we strapped up, unloaded any excess weight (super speed mode activated) onto our train-taking friends, and zoomed off.

The final 10km. We were in a race against time, and against the train, while I was fighting my own battle against my body. I really am not exaggerating all of this to make up some narrative - other than when I literally fractured my femur, I don’t think I had ever felt that amount of pain walking. While some of the others were jovially conversing, I was using every once of concentration to just put one foot in front of the other. I very rarely say this, not least on my own photography blog, but the photography just did not matter to me at that point of time, and so below are just a few quick snapshots I took on my phone. At the 1 hour mark, we realised we had done 4.6km - impressive considering a had a 10 minute uphill section, but we knew we needed to go just a little faster in order to safely beat the train. Unfortunately, right around the 9km mark, we heard the noise we dreaded - the train, filled with the rest of our group, had arrived, chugging past us. At the time, there was a tangible feeling of disappointment, with each of us believeing we could really be faster than the train, but it was put into perspective for us: after 4 days and 70+ km of hiking at altitude, we had very very nearly outdone the train. We should have been bloody proud of our efforts. With the race over, we slowly marched into Aguas Calientes. While reaching the finish line on day 2 felt like ecstasy, today it was just “thank god it’s done”. At that very moment in time, I was suffering a bit too much to realise what an incredible adventure we had been on, the stunning landscapes we had seen, and the memories of a lifetime we had just experienced. All I wanted was to take a warm shower, and to lie down in bed.

Day 5: Machu Picchu

With these world wonders, it’s sometimes hard to tell whether they are worth the hype. I myself have looked at many a famous landmark before and haven’t been able to help but feel slightly underwhelmed. I didn’t feel that way about Machu Picchu. Sure it was crowded, but I think it was the payoff that we had all been waiting for - the final destination of our 75km adventure. Despite a brief scare with the clouds, the weather panned our perfectly, with the early-morning glow bathing all over the mountaintop, casting a gorgeous light all over. Walking along the designated paths, it was becoming very apparent to me why this place was as popular as it was, and all the various nuggets about Incan culture and the Quechua people were coming together. It was so easy to see and understand why this place is so special, and why so many millions of people have come from all over the world to see it. For very different reasons to the day prior, I barely picked up my camera again, enamoured by what I was looking at.

When we arrived at Machu Picchu, this was the view. Not sure whether I would have laughed or cried if this was the extent of the view after the four days of walking.

I know most people know of Machu Picchu, but I have also been asked a lot of questions, and very few people actually know what it is. So to help out, here are some brief fun facts I learnt during my trip:

Machu Picchu is Quechua for “Old Mountain” (please make sure to pronounce the double “c” in “Picchu”).
It was built in the 1400s by Inca Pachacuti (the greatest of the Incas), and then abandoned when the Spanish arrived in the 1520s.
Machu Picchu functioned as a citadel for the Inca and people of high nobility (such as relatives of the Inca and scholars), and housed a population of approximately 1,000 people at its peak.
The Spanish never actually discovered Machu Picchu, which was immediately abandoned in order to protect it. The Spanish were instead focused on finding for Vilcabamba, the last Incan City.
It was “rediscovered” by a Yale-Professor Hiram Bingham in 1911, who was also looking for Vicabamba. The local population knew about it for longer, and were already using some of the terraces for agriculture.

The iconic viewpoint of Machu Picchu. Unfortunately due to the high number of tourists, designated tourists paths have been assigned, and you are not allowed to go beyond the ropes or even stop for too long.

Final words

Writing this account a month or so after the trek, the highs and lows of the trek still feel incredibly fresh in my mind. Now that my knees are better, I am wholeheartedly on board with this trekking thing, and can’t wait to do my next one.

I would like to thank The Travel Intern for putting this trip together, as well as Timo and Janelle for taking care of everyone. To all the friends from my time in Peru, new and old, I would not have finished without you.

If you’re interested in doing this trek for yourself, check out Salkantay Trekking, who took incredible care of us both from a comfort and a safety POV.

The Salkantay Diaries