By Philip K. Barth
Heavy rains in the Andes turned my boyhood dream of visiting Machu Picchu into a weeklong multi-tiered ordeal and adventure.
One of the perks of our profession is the opportunity to visit unusual places and enjoy unique experiences alongside our project work. So in January 2010, I jumped at the chance for a weekend trip to Machu Picchu, which was a boyhood dream of mine. However, heavy rains in the Andes turned my 30-hour visit into a weeklong multi-tiered ordeal and adventure. So, as they say, “be careful what you wish for!”
Anticipation The lost Incan city of Machu Picchu is on a plateau deep in the Andes Mountains. The only access is via a 2-3 hour train ride from Cusco, the 2-mile high regional hub. I left Cusco early Saturday morning with a lot of anticipation, hoping to spend 2 days at the ruins. However, the early onset of Peru’s rainy season caused several landslides that blocked the train tracks and delayed our progress while they cleared the debris. Eventually our tour guide hired a mini-bus which took us on an end-run to the Ollantaytambo train station beyond the landslides. The mountain roads (often dirt) gave amazing views we would have otherwise missed. Finally we hopped on a backpackers train for the last 25 miles to Aguas Calientes, the village at the base of Machu Picchu mountain. I later learned that our train was the last one that day, having narrowly preceded another landslide.
The City in the Sky Despite missing the entire first day of my visit, I took comfort in the fact that I still had Sunday to explore the Incan city. I settled into my hotel on the edge of the churning Urubamba River. Even with the windows closed, the roar of the river made my hotel room sound like the inside of an NEC mechanical room!
Early Sunday morning, I took one of the first buses up the 13 switchbacks to Machu Picchu, rising 1300 ft. above Aguas Calientes in about 30 minutes. The mountain was completely enclosed in cloud and drizzle, so my first pass though the ruins revealed very little. My plan was to hike first to Huayna Picchu, the high peak overlooking Machu Picchu. The trail rises another 1000 ft., with steps built into the side of the mountain and occasional cables as handrails. During several secluded and quiet hours on top, the clouds and rain began to disperse, giving occasional views of the ruins on my way back down. By the time I returned to the ruins, the entire city was exposed, and I enjoyed a few more hours roaming and climbing the narrow alleys, rooms and passageways. Finally, I took the bus back to Aguas Calientes and prepared for my return train to Cusco.
The Waiting Game The station was more crowded than usual and I was greeted with the news that another landslide had delayed my train. With the promise of an evening departure, I made friends with some young Americans seated with me on the floor. When the announcement came, “no trains will be leaving tonight,” we decided to spend the night on the empty trains. We hoped this would pre-position us for an early departure, and we just might make our Monday flights.
Reality Check Despite being woken up every 2 hours to the sound of rain on the metal roofs, we remained optimistic in the morning while waiting for the train schedule. My hope dwindled when I saw the track crews returning after only 20 minutes. Any landslides big enough to cancel all trains the day before could not be cleared so quickly. Sure enough, they told us that several large sections of track were completely undermined. At this point, I realized it would be days, not hours before we would be leaving. We briefly discussed hiking the 25 miles to Ollantaytambo, but reconsidered, knowing that in such a narrow ravine, the loss of the railroad bed would make certain sections impassable. Besides, I needed to check in with the Embassy in Lima, to get help with my onward flights and contacts.
Rumors and Uncertainty Having contacted Bob K., the Lima Embassy Facility Manager, to get help in rescheduling my onward flight, I asked to be connected to the consular office, to exchange whatever information I could. It turned out they were as hard-pressed as we were for good information. So for the next few days, I became the primary conduit of information between the Embassy and the 200 or so stranded US citizens in Aguas Calientes.
Altogether, there were over 2000 stranded tourists, mostly in their 20s and 30s. We never ran out of food, although choices were limited, and the ATMs quickly ran out. Gradually, we began hearing rumors of a Peruvian helicopter airlift, which was confirmed by Sarah F., my embassy contact. She added that the USG was also sending helicopters to assist. However, because of the high altitude, the airlift would be delayed as the choppers had to be modified for thin air flying. This also delayed the arrival of the embassy assistance team from Lima. Until then, there were so many rumors flying, so many conflicting airlift sign-up lists, and so much anxiety that we began holding information sessions every few hours for the stranded Americans. This kept me very busy, which was actually a better alternative to merely waiting and wondering. It was a great relief when the embassy team arrived on Wed. and Thurs., and I was glad to return to the status of mere tourist.
Onward and Upward The airlift began slowly on Tuesday and Wednesday, due to rain and low clouds, and concentrated on the sick, elderly, pregnant, and children. However, once it got going, it was well organized, evacuating about 100 people per hour. Before long, the reassuring drone of helicopter engines began lifting everyone’s spirits. My turn finally came just after noon on Thursday, along with 24 others crammed inside a Peruvian army helicopter. It turned out to be a refueling flight, taking us all the way to Cusco, sparing us a 50-mile bus ride.
Space does not allow me to describe other memorable experiences: sleeping on a makeshift bed of chairs in a small chapel, a flash flood scare, charging my phone in a cell phone shop, dealing with angry South Americans who heard false rumors of preferential treatment for US folks, a new passion for Inca Cola, waiting in the rain at 5:00am for a special airlift that never happened, phone calls from anxious US relatives of a 75-year old grandmother, an inexplicable camaraderie with people I hardly knew, a resolution to open a Facebook account to reconnect with them, etc., etc. Despite all this, I would gladly return to Machu Picchu if given another chance. Anyone want to join me?
