Rudely early mornings were becoming a habit. We were up at 4 to catch a plane to Cuzco. The plane was late so they decided to skip the midway stop of Juliaca and go there afterwards therefore ensuring all the Gringos got to their destinations on time, but goodness knows what time the poor locals eventually got to theirs. Truely everyone going to Cuzco was a traveller and all seemingly decked out ready for Everest. Goretex walking boots, titanium walking poles, camel pacs and high tech thermals peaking out from under their Alpaca (in name as well as folksy design) jumpers. Me? Well I had my trainers (proved effective for running, why not trekking, ah yes the last time I tried that I´d twisted my ankle within 15 mins), a Lonsdale hoody (obviously designed for high altitude low temperatures) and my fitness first day sack, which while lacking the chest and waist straps that most other people´s had, did have a handy earphone hole, which I could have used if I had, have had any music.

Cuzco, the travellers capital of Latin America, lives up to the hype. It´s an absolutely stunning Andean city, with narrow hilly streets, picturesque plazas and oozing with Incan culture. But dón´t the locals know it. They parade around dressed in all the gear with their llamas sporting silly tassells on their ears, or dressed like Ancient Incan kings ready to charge for photos. Tacky tourism at it´s best. After a reprieve from hassle since Cartagena I was again accosted with offers of massages, paintings, jewellry and fabulous dining experiences. It´s no surprise that in Cuzco you can get a t-shirt with ¨No Gracias¨printed on the front as you end up saying it umpteem times a day. On the plus side, the glut of tourists ensured some great eateries and bars. Jacks cafe, Aussie owned became our regular for food, just like home, whilst Paddy´s (highest Irish owned bar in the world no less) was the haunt for some beers. We did go more local in our club choice however, with Uptown, a club with free salsa lessons every night and a good mix of latin and western music, although a tendancy to put on strobe lighting most of the time, inducing less than fantastic sensations after a few Cuba Libres.

Our main purpose for being in Cuzco however was the Inca trail and Machu Picchu. Machu Picchu is probably the number one place I´ve dreamed of visiting, and with recent crack downs on the number of visitors as well as threats for more severe limitations, which would make it a very expensive, exclusive trip, I couldn´t believe that it was about to become a reality. In fact everyone was super excited and as we had our briefing and decided whether to have porters to carry some of our stuff, we were like little kids. Unlike the boys who saw the potential challenge of carrying all their own gear up steep inclines reaching over 4000 metres as some kind of macho contest, I jumped at any help I could get (although they did see sense in the end).

Before starting the trail we did a day trip to the Sacred Valley, an amazing series of Incan ruins. Our guide was Martin Martinez and his English, although correct, had a sing songy trait that left us mostly baffled at the explanations and just content to soak in the amazing ruins. All of the ruins are on hills, and involve steps, my breathing was heavy after half a staircase, oh no I though, how on earth am I going to cope with the Inca trail. We stayed in Ollantaytambo that evening, negotiated the price of some walking sticks (4 soles each, about US $1.30) and descended on a restaurant for a pasta dinner, some carb fuel. We actually had them having to run out and buy some more spagetti!

The first day was 12 kms, with moderate climbs. It was my first chance to see the famous porters in action. There were 11 in our group and we had 17 porters who carried all the food, tents, tables, chairs, crockery, cutlery, gas bottles, as well as our sleeping bags, roll mats and night stuff etc...As tough as the lot of a porter seems now, it used to be a lot worse. Recent regulations mean that they are limited to only carrying 20 kilos when they used to carry upto 50 and believe me these are little guys, I´m not sure they weigh much more than that themselves. They pegged it away, past us, up the hill with often no more than sandals on, so they could make the lunch site with plenty of time to set up the dining tent and prepare lunch. On my trip so far I´d heard about the marvellous food on the inca trail, but the reality of what they conjured up from their tent kitchen was unbelievable. Quinoa and vegetable soup for starters, main was beef stew with daulphinoise yuca, stuffed avocado, salads and rice, all garnished with elaborate vegetable flowers and dessert of hot banana and condensed milk. It didn´t look like I was going to be able to blame lack of food for any failure with my hiking. We even got a siesta after lunch. The afternoon was steeper and I had my coca leaves handy for the sections of large incan steps. Honestly for short people they liked deep steps. Orlando our guide talked us through our fist Inca site. We were relieved that he had a glimmer in his eye and was up for a laugh (thank goodness no more dry incan ruin descriptions)

We arrived at the campsite to individual bowls of hot water to wash in, then it was happy hour, with popcorn and Milo. The Aussie´s eyes lit up. For some of the Poms it was their first encounter with Milo yet it was love at first slurp and we knocked over the whole tin quick smart. On the second day they´d scavenged half a can from somewhere and self appointed and titled ¨Don Roberto¨ was in charge of rationing. By happy hour on day 3 however when the iconic green tin was brought out, we discovered with disappointment that it contained substandard local cocoa, with rainbow flecks in it, that didn´t improved the appearance or the flavour. We were the first group to drink them out of Milo and truely proud of that.

Daunting day 2 dawned and after we´d stuffed ourselves with pancakes for brekkie, suddenly a massive cake was brought out. It was Dan´s birthday and they´d managed to produce a cake complete with icing and decoration for him. We cheered their acheivement and then realised we were all going to have to have a piece so it was with a sickeningly full belly that I started the steepest and longest day of the trek. It was reckoned to be a 4 hour unrelentless climb to Dead Woman´s pass at 4215 metres, down for lunch and then another steep ascent to the 2nd pass of the day, with some ruins thrown in to keep us motivated.

From the first step out of the campsite it was uphill and we resigned ourselves to 4 hours of hard work. The weather had closed in and really there was nothing to see apart from where to place your foot next. I was already gasping for breath and my lungs were burning, but as I glanced around a bit embarassed, I saw everyone else was suffering too. We all had our different strategies for accomplishing the climb. Alice´s was her Ipod, with motivational upbeat tunes (she cursed not having Ëye of the tiger). Unfortunately her Ipod suffers from altitude sickness around 4,000 metres so just when she needed it most, it failed her. My personal plan was to try and stick up the front. The pacesetters had longer legs than me and were about 8 years my junior, so it was tough, but worth it as I summitted in only 2 hours. Not so good was waiting at the top in the freezing cold and rain, lined up like little knomes in our ponchos for 90 minutes for the whole group to make it, but the group shot of us surviving Dead Woman´s pass is filled with smiles as we posed triumphantly in the mist. The afternoon wasn´t easy either, legs had started to seize up and the weather was still awful but we powered onto finish our 8 hour trek and thank the Mountain gods that the tents were already up for us to collapse into as soon as we arrived.

Day 3 we were due to reap our rewards for the 2 long previous days with only a half day hike and the chance to miss the queue for a well deserved and needed hot shower. We awoke to a beautiful clear morning, stunned to discover we were surrounded my beautiful mountains and snow capped peaks. We were on a mission to be the first group out to tackle 2000 steps downhill. For the first time I could really appreciate the magnificent scenery. We were indeed first into camp that day, unfortunately, we decided to check out another incan site instead of jumping into the showers straight away and lets just say when we got back some of us were queuing for hours (female queue got a bit fiesty, the male queue more chilled, probably aided by the beers that eased the tension and the wait). Even some of the ¨Finca trial¨ (people who´d only done a 1.5 day trek got in, in front of us.

Day 4, the big one, finally Machu Picchu. A 4 o clock start and then everyone waiting to be let on to the path to the sun gate (us next to some rather irriting loud scouts) and then the josling for position and as the path was opened the surge through towards the sun gate. It was a surge that couldn´t really sustain the 1.5 hour walk, and in some sections steep climb, and we all got there in the end...to a view of mist!!!!!! NO! The famous view eluded us and as we made our way into Macha Picchu itself every chink in the clouds was accompanied with a flurry of picture taking, as it may be the best shot we´d get. Luckily the clouds lifted and we had the most beautiful morning exploring the ruins. It lived up to all my expectations. I had to pinch myself. Whilst most decided to do another climb up Huanya Picchu, the famous peak in all the pictures, my legs were not obeying my bidding anymore and Alice and I soaked up the rays on one of the terraces.

It was enough to descend to the town "Agua Calientes" down more endless steps, my thighs were screaming. We were passed though by a chaski (historically used in relay to deliver messages around the kingdom), a child in bright clothes flashed by us down the steps, and we kept hearing him yelling, it was only later that we found out he actually races the tourist bus down from Machu Picchu (a 20 min bus ride) yelling at the bus on every bend and of course normally beats it. I felt tired just thinking about it.

We lunched, went to thermal springs, the hot water to soothe our aching muscles and a beer to soothe our thirst and then caught the horrendously long train back to Cuzco, and straight out to complete the 24 hour challenge (4am to 4am) I didn´t make it, but then I´d been busted sleeping on the terraces and then again on the train. Nevermind.