When you visit Machu Picchu, you have the opportunity to hike Machu Picchu Mountain or Wayna Picchu. It's an extra fee and you have the schedule the ticket. We chose to do Machu Picchu mountain and were aiming for the 7 am hike.
On our last day of the tour, we wake up at 430/5 am, check out of the hotel and go stand in line to get on the buses. The buses start running around 530 or 6 am. (I'm guestimating, I should've written this when we first hiked the trail.) And it takes you to the entry way. We were among the first to go in, and our guide, Effy said, "Keep your tickets and passports with you." Once we got in, we took a few pictures and then Effy took us to where the Machu Picchu Mountain Hike would start. Since we were in the park, I stuffed my passport and ticket in Hedy's bag so I didn't lose it while hiking.
We didn't have tickets for the 7 am hike. We had tickets for the 10 am hike, and Effy was going to try and talk our way to the earlier hike because we had to be on the earlier train that morning from Aguas Calientes back to Cusco. When we got up to the spot we were chatting with people. After about 10 minutes, Effy said, "You have your tickets right?" And I looked at him as if he were jokeing, and said, "I thought we were done with the tickets after getting in." The answer was 'No.' Apparently we still needed our tickets. So, with 15 minutes before the gates opened for the hike, I scurried back to where Hedy was waiting for Effy.
The elevation of Machu Picchu is approximately 8000 ft. After hiking at 14,000+ ft before this, I was actually able to run back to where Hedy was. I started heaving pretty quickly, but it was definitely easier to breath with the extra 6000-8000 ft of atmosphere.
I got to Hedy, reached in to her backpack, grabbed my ticket and shoved the passport back in her backpack ... because I didn't want to lose it while hiking. Accidents happen, I've lost things on hikes. Nothing has been as important as a passport in a foreign country, but I would argue bear spray is pretty important while solo hiking on the Chilkoot trail. So, I was trying to be extra careful.
When I got back to Effy and Ted, Effy looked at me and said, "You have your passport, right?" I was at a loss. I was winded and now only had 10 minutes. Ted volunteered to go grab it. He scurried down to Hedy and back, and was whistled at by the Machu Picchu security.
So, NOW that I finally had all the necessary documentation, all we had left was to see if Effy could sweet talk us into admission on the 7 am hike.
The hike was basically a rock stair cse, for 2067. The hike started at ~8000 ft, and we ended at ~10,000 ft. And it felt good to hike and get my heart rate up and be able to breathe - a little better than before. It was a bit of a mental block to be hiking and constantly be out of breath. Hiking at the lower elevation, even though it was much higher than what I am used to.
It took Ted and I an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the top, and 50 minutes back down.
Machu Picchu is below.
Machu Picchu and surrounding mountains.
An example of the stone staircases.
The town next to the ruins of Machu Picchu is called Machu Picchu Town or Aguas Calientes. As we were going to this town, we were told that there was a hot spring in the town. We had about an hour between checking in to the hotel and when we had to go to dinner, so Alex and Joseph (the other hikers we were traveling with) and myself went and took a quick dip in the springs. As we are walking there, I look at them and say, "Oh my god. THAT'S why it's called Aguas Calientes!" They don't speak spanish, so I told them that it literally means hot water. I was embarassed, and I reminded them that every evening and morning when we were camping that we were given aguas calientes. Some days are slower than others.
After the last hike in Peru, Ted and I met up with the group, we engaged in the tour of the ruins. After that we went to Cusco, and had our last night. The next morning, we woke up early and made it to the airport. The original plan was to leave that evening and make it home the next day, after a grueling and unforgiving travel schedule. But, Latam cancelled our flight and rebooked us for the following day which caused a cascading change in our tickets. Fortunately, Alaska Airlines rebooked all 3 of use without a problem. Our travel scheduled was Cusco - Lima - Los Angeles - Seattle - Home & work (Juneau/Anchorage/Ketchikan).
In Lima, we had breakfast at the airport and were getting ready to get on the plane. I was looking forward to having a glass of wine on the plane, but as the plane was getting ready to take off, I started to feel nauseous. And I thought, "Oh, shit. There was dairy in that breakfast." I had asked the guy (pardon the bad spanish), "Hay queso o leche en ... [whatever the breakfast was]." He said no, so I ordered it. So, I got up and found some lactaid, ate that. Found some peppermint and ate that, hoping it would settle my stomach. The flight attendant saw that I was fanning myself and looking sick, so she asked me if I was alright. I responded, "Pienso que hay queso o leche en mi desayuno y no peudo comer queso o leche." I don't know how else to explain that I'm lactose intolerant, but my limited spanish could carry me that far.
At this point, I knew that I was going to feel sick for about 6 hours of the 8 hour flight, and that I would get through it. It would be painful, but it's not death. I don't know when it started, but at some point, maybe an hour or two in to the flight, I got sick. There was one 30-45 minute stint that I spent in the bathroom. People would bang on the door and I would yell "Enfermo!" Which I was hoping meant, "I'm sick!" There were a few times I would run to the bathroom and ended up climbing over sleeping people to get to the bathroom on the opposite side of the plane. It was a terrible experience for everyone.
At one point, I went to the back of the plane to ask for ginger ale, hoping that would stay in my stomach, because, at this point, nothing was. And this was the worst my lactose intolerance had gotten to me. Hedy had come back to check on me at this point and she asked if I could lay on the floor. They obliged, got me a blanket and a pillow, and they called for a doctor on the plane. Fortunately, one was on the plane. After a quick examination, he said that it wasn't a food allergy, but that I had food poisoning. He gave me some anti-nausea medicine. For the remaining 3 hours of the flight, I slept on the floor of the galley of the plane.
When we got to LAX, I was one of those people who got a wheel chair. They wheeled me through customs, put on a bus to the domestic terminal, and wheel chaired through security. The nice thing about the wheel chair is that you go to the front line. I was able to get some chicken broth and keep that down while napping waiting for the next flight. When we got to Seattle, all three of us decided that we had too many doctors for one vacation and that we need a break for a bit.
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