After meeting our guides Victor and Edson last night, this morning we headed off at 6am to start what proved to be both the best and toughest thing we've ever done. The journey began with the fifteen of us and the two guides eating breakfast overlooking the Sacred Valley of the Incas. Next we headed off to the 82km mark (not sure why it's called that as we only walked 49km to Machu Picchu) to start the Inca Trail, after a quick stop off to buy our walking sticks. Believe us, you need walking sticks. The trail starts off by crossing a check-point at 2720 metres above sea level and heading across a bridge over the Ullabamba River. According to our guide Victor, the first day of the Inca Trail is an easy day, filled with many 'Inca flats' which we soon learnt meant 45 degree gradients up and down that left you barely able to breathe. The morning's walk took us uphill a few hundred metres and probably covered about 12km's over about 5 hours. We stopped for lunch (after passing the Inca ruins of Wayllabamba) exhausted at about 3pm and realised that one of the group had gone missing. Turned out the porter who was directing us to lunch was having a power nap and she'd kept going! After lunch we headed off for what Victor described as an hour's walk, and after two hours and 6km's later found ourselves in our campsite, at which point some of the group were beginning to question Peruvian time, heights and distances. Luckily we were met by the beer woman, who had a bucket of Cusquenas (local Peruvian beer) for 6 soles each (just over GBP1). After quickly polishing off her supply we decided to ask for more, and with the help of the beer manager (Ben from Liverpool) and Spanish interpreter she returned an hour later from the bottom of the valley with a fresh supply. We love Peruvian hospitality! Our campsite was about 3300m above sea level. After a pretty exhausting day we all crashed out about 9pm to mentally and physically prepare ourselves for day two, which Victor described as challenging. After the so-called easy day this worried us all somewhat, but we convinced ourselves we had already walked up half the mountain so it would be OK. How foolish we were! Day two started out at about 6am with our guides bringing hot tea to our tents. After breakfast we started the 900m climb to the top of Dead Woman's Pass (named as the mountain is shaped like a dead woman), with Rich regretting the extra pancake he had at breakfast. Not a great idea as you begin a steep, 900m climb taking you to 4200m above sea level. After a few minutes Allison's asthma started, so we created a splinter group with Ben and his girlfriend Suzie called Team Asthma, as those guys were struggling with the altitude too. Pretty soon we were all wishing we'd done more (or at least some) hiking, as some of the group stormed ahead. After reaching about 3900m we stopped off where some locals were selling drinks and snacks. Strangely after this point Allison's asthma disappeared and Rich really began to struggle getting his breath back. It felt like we'd never make it to the summit, as with every turn we faced another steep pass filled with hundreds of steep steps, but somehow we eventually made it up to the top, 4200m above sea level. When we reached the top we stopped off for a while and waited for the whole group, at which point all the sweat (and there was a lot) seems to turn to ice. The view from the top of the mountain was limited due to the mist and clouds below us, but you could make out the snow capped peaks of Mount Veronica (6000m) in the distance. Luckily the mist aided Rich's vertigo throughout the four days, as if he had seen how high he was there would've been a lot of mountain hugging. After a break and a quick picture, we headed down the other side of Dead Woman's Pass. The trail was steep and painful on the knees, but after an hour or so we made it down the 600m to our lunch, at the bottom of the next 300m climb. At this point the heaven's opened and it rained heavy for an hour. We really should mention the porters here. The porters are from local villages and are an amazing bunch. They are generally little over 5 feet tall, and they range in age from about 18 to 65. The oldest in our group was 60 and was called Sebastian. Every day these guys pack up the camp site, and carry all the food, camping equipment and other supplies up the same mountains that we climbed with our small day packs. Each porter carried about 25kg (though we thought it looked more), and would overtake us at great speed on a daily basis, often running. It really does make you feel pathetic when you're taking three steps at a time and weazing uncontrollably, as a 5 foot munchkin with a hump runs past you at speed. After carrying all the supplies they would make camp, cook and serve dinner, and then clean everything for the next meal. We ate three big and really well prepared meals daily, had snack packs and had tea, popcorn and biscuits (pronounced biskweets by Victor) daily. These guys do such an amazing job, for what we all assume is a little wage, and they all do it with a smile on their faces. Anyway, after lunch we headed up to the top of the next mountain at 3900 metres. As we neared the top again breathing became really difficult and your heart starts to race as you try to catch your breath. We made it to the top for some great views of Mount Veronica again, and headed down to day two's camp, via the ruins of Sayacmarca and it's steep and precarious stairway. After another night's camping we woke to hot tea, rain and mist. Victor suggested we sacrifice a virgin to appease the mountain Gods and put Edson (his assistant guide) forward for the job. Edson was regularly the butt of Victor's jokes, as we were promised a striptease on our final night too. Day three began with a short 100 metre or so climb to the top of the last mountain. Thankfully it was all downhill from here. After a few hours of walking we were close to our final camp and our first shower in three days, but first we had the ruins of Puyupatamarca and Winaywayna, both nestled in beautiful valleys. The campsite for day three contained a scout hut-like building which had a fridge stocked to the brim with Cusquenas. Everyone assumes they've made it to Machu Picchu after they reach the final campsite, so spirits were high, music was loud and p1ssed trekkers danced uneasily with sore legs and backs (a few of whom we saw struggling or even puking the next morning). Before we hit the sack we thanked the porters for their help, who all introduced themselves and posed for pictures, before walking along in a line to shake everyone's hands, like at the begininng of a football match. All very bizarre but really nice. The next day we rose at 4am for the final push. We left camp at 5am and headed to the entrance gate for 5.30am. At this point it becomes very clear it's every man for himself, as the 250 people or so all charge at speed to the Sun Gate so they can be the first to see Machu Picchu. People were annoyed and shouting at others who overtook them or who were holding them up, p1ssheads from the night before were puking and wheezing, and generally it was carnage. We reached the Sun Gate or Inti Punku at about 6.30am after some steep staircases, that would have been a lot scarier had we not all been charging at full speed to get there. Unfortunately Machu Picchu was obscured by morning cloud and mist, until suddenly after about 15 minutes it emerged from the mist below and we had our first sight of it. In hindsight it was probably better than a clear day, as it looked more majestic emerging in the distance from the clouds. We walked the last few kilometres to Machu Picchu, passing llamas on the way until we reached one of the classic photo points, where we had a group photo and relaxed after a great but tough few days. The next six hours we explored the ruins, but it seemed more like about an hour, as we could have spent the whole day. It really is spectacular, and all the more rewarding after trekking the difficult path used by the Incas centuries ago. After exploring the sun dial, Temple of the Sun and Temple of the Condor, we walked to the top of the site and took the classic photos (although we didn't climb the mountain, only three of our group made it up there), before taking the bus down to the town of Aguas Calientes below. On the way down a young Peruvian lad ran down about 8 flights of stairs as the bus wound round the mountain bends, screaming BYE at every bend before starting the next staircase. Unsurprisingly he got on the bus at the bottom and wanted paying, but he gave everyone such a laugh we all chipped in. After lunch we said goodbye to the guides and headed back to Cuzco to recover. Agony and sickness for two days, but it was worth it!