I’m not overly enamoured with traipsing around ruins and have thus far passed up on visiting some places along my route through Ecuador and Peru. I had wondered, for instance, about Chan Chan, but was reassured when another traveller told me that ‘the photos are great, they show it at its best, but when you’re actually there its just a bit boring… and shortlived‘.
Machu Picchu is, however, a whole different thing: famous, revered, a place of intrigue and cultural and historical interest. And if its good enough for Mick Jagger, who bought up all the tickets for the morning session a few weeks back, well, then it’s more than good enough for me.
I, along with over half the group, took the bus up to Machu Picchu. Tired and worn down, the 05:00am start was a significant effort. Rain swept the bus windows as we took the winding road up into a lush mountainscape, and I wondered how the others were getting on climbing the many, many steps in these miserable conditions.
We all met up by the entrance. They were soaked through but pumped up, physical challenge completed.
We all headed into the Parque Arqueologico Nacional Machu Picchu, and through misty, mystical wafts of cloud we saw those infamous views, the site of Machu Picchu spread out beneath us; quiet, green, impressive. A moment to be still and breathe and take in the wonder.