Hiking to Peru's fabled city

MACHU PICCHU, Peru —

Here's how we'd pictured it: Marching up to Machu Picchu at dawn, triumphantly finishing a four-day, 27-mile trek to the famed Incan ruins.

Here's how it actually happened: Hobbled by a violent stomach illness in addition to the previous day's knee injury, Julie limped the final four miles and then sat in the snack bar while others toured the site she'd longed to see.

We had prepared for the trip to Peru with both excitement and nervousness, and it turns out both were warranted. From spectacular views, vivid cultural experiences and new friends to aching muscles and gasping for breath in the thin air of the Andes, it was a trip unlike any we'd taken.

While it may not have ended quite as we had envisioned, it was a treasured experience and gave us a great sense of accomplishment.

The 27-mile Classic Inca Trail follows the route, and sometimes the very stones, used by the Incas. Popular with tourists for decades (and regulated by the Peruvian government since 2002), it is a grueling but rewarding way to reach Machu Picchu, the stunning Inca city high in the Andes.

Built in the 15th century, Machu Picchu went undiscovered by invading Spanish forces and was remarkably well-preserved when American Hiram Bingham came upon it in 1911.

It is possible to see Machu Picchu without breaking a sweat, and certainly without sleeping three nights on hard ground in a tiny tent, but we were attracted by the challenge and by the prospect of an experience that relatively few others undertake.

After several days in lively Cusco, the oldest city in the Western Hemisphere and historic capital of the Inca Empire, we were ready to hit the trail.

The Inca Trail to Machu Picchu

Trekking

Hikers must go with a guide, and numerous companies provide this service. Treks range from two to seven days. Four days is considered the "classic" Inca Trail trek. Tents and meals are provided. Sleeping bags can be rented, and a porter can be hired to carry your things. We paid $300 per person, plus $60 for a porter and $12 each for sleeping bags.

Traveler's tip

It's a grueling hike, so get in shape. Everybody struggles a bit and gasps for breath at times, but you don't want to be miserable. Walk a lot. Mount Si (near North Bend) is a good practice hill. Sessions on the StairMaster wouldn't hurt, either. Some tour companies require that people over a certain age get a doctor's note saying they are fit enough. Spending a few days in Cusco to acclimate is recommended.

More information

You don't have to get there on foot. Various trains run from Cusco, from the basic Backpacker (on which trekkers return) to the luxurious Hiram Bingham with guide service and gourmet meals.

On the Internet

www.qente.com/ the tour company we used and found excellent

www.andeantravelweb.com/ a good clearinghouse for Andean travel information

www.perurail.com: train service

Here are some highlights from an unforgettable adventure:

Day 1: easing into it

Tour company Team Q'ente picked us up at the hotel for the ride to the trailhead. (We had booked the trip in advance, corresponding by e-mail and wiring money for a deposit.)

The ride — during which the bus forded a stream and had several near-misses with other vehicles on narrow, rutted roads — only added to our anticipation and nervousness about what awaited us. Were we up to the test? Would we regret not getting into better shape? Should we have just taken the train?

Kilometer 82 — the starting point for our trek — was buzzing with excited trekkers and Peruvian women and children hawking items they insisted were "necessito" for the journey.

We assembled our gear, checked in and posed for a group photo. We wouldn't again look this fresh, clean and energetic.

It was a sign of things to come that we immediately headed uphill, but overall, the first day wasn't tough: 7.5 miles, several climbs, a couple of Incan ruins along the way.

As we walked, we became acquainted with our fellow trekkers: a couple from Vermont, two women from San Francisco, two men from London and a family of three from Argentina.

We also learned the logistics of this undertaking: Our guide, Miguel, was assisted by Rolando. One led the way while the other brought up the rear — cheerfully, no matter how slow the pace.

When we reached our lunch stop, the 18 porters had been there long before us, setting up a dining tent and preparing a meal that began with homemade soup and ended with tea made from coca leaves, a natural remedy for altitude sickness.

Again and again, we were amazed at how hard and how silently the porters worked, meeting our every need while rarely making eye contact. They hauled camp equipment, food and supplies and helped to prepare and serve the meals, which we found quite good. In addition, some trekkers (us included) hired a porter to carry personal items so that, in theory, they could hike with just a light daypack. (We carried too much.)

Sights along the trail never ceased to amaze: stunning mountains and valleys, animals and plants, homes and villages where you'd least expect them, sometimes with people selling water, soda and snacks to passing hikers.

We arrived at camp mid-afternoon. Everything was set up, and tea was waiting.

We settled into our small tent and immediately regretted not spending the extra $12 each to rent air mattresses. The provided pads were awfully thin.

Several of the group walked to ruins at a nearby village. A grassy area had been made into a soccer field, where porters and townspeople played, while others watched. While the day's walk had tired us, they still appeared energetic.

Dinner was a convivial time, a chance to rehash the day's events and discuss any number of other topics that arise in a diverse group.

Our visions of hours spent reading by flashlight were replaced by the reality of a hard day's work and an early wakeup call for an even harder day ahead. Generally, we were asleep before 9 p.m.

Day 2: Dead Woman's Pass

This was the day we had trained for, although probably not enough. Dead Woman's Pass is well known as the toughest part of the trek.

After a 6 a.m. wakeup call (hot tea delivered to our tent along with warm water to wash up) and breakfast, we hit the trail at about 7:30 a.m.

For 5 ½ hours we made a relentless march upward. We had began at 10,000 feet, and the summit of Dead Woman's Pass is at 13,776. It was slow going. Toward the top, we stopped to catch our breath every few feet, wishing we had trained harder but also realizing that no amount of training would have made this easy.

Scott, who until now had seemed unaffected by the altitude, developed nausea that lingered for several hours.

The porters, meanwhile, were practically running past us, despite carrying 60-pound packs and wearing sandals. It was humbling, seeing these slight men zip by.

Dead Woman's Pass is so named because, from some angles, the rocks on the peak resemble a reclining woman. We can't verify that. We were just trying to survive.

Reaching the top was a great feeling. The group exchanged congratulations and posed for a picture. Going through such a tough climb together seemed to add to the camaraderie.

While trudging up Dead Woman's Pass, we kept thinking how nice it would be to go downhill. Well, chalk this up to "Be careful what you wish for": Camp was about 1 ½ miles and 2,300 feet below, and the steep steps made for slow going and sore knees.

The day's walk was the shortest at just under seven miles, but definitely the most difficult.

We reached camp around 3 p.m., had lunch and took a nap. After dinner, we went to bed early, because we could see what awaited us: Our longest day of walking (about 10 miles) would start right off with a substantial climb. We had conquered Dead Woman's Pass, but it wouldn't be our last challenge.

Day 3: climbing and falling

We had envisioned great nights of sleep after days on the trail. Reality was much different. The tent was small, the ground hard, the rented sleeping bags uncomfortable. After more tossing and turning than sleeping, we were up at 5:45 a.m., and on the trail at 7:05. We weren't expected to reach camp for about 10 ½ hours.

Second Pass immediately loomed. After 100 yards, we were gasping for breath. Halfway up the 1,436-foot climb, we took a break at a circular Incan ruin set majestically among the Andes.

While Miguel explained the ruins, it occurred to us that this was why we did the trek: People taking the train or bus to Machu Picchu would not experience this, nor would they experience the satisfaction we felt when reaching the top of Second Pass at 13,000 feet.

We paused only briefly to savor this latest victory. It was still a long haul to Wiñay Wayna, the most civilized of the spots where we camped. While the other camps had primitive toilets and little else, this was a small community, with showers and even a bar.

After a descent that included a stop at another impressive ruin, we ascended Third Pass, the trek's final significant climb. It was much easier than the previous two passes, which was good because it was hot and we were tired. The scenery was some of the most spectacular of the trek. We saw mountain views on both sides of the trail and climbed through two Incan tunnels.

Lunch was served at the summit of Third Pass. The joy we felt at finishing the final major climb of the trek was tempered by dread of the descent we were about to undertake. We were at 12,000 feet, and camp was at 8,829 feet.

The trail we descended was the original Inca Trail. This part was discovered just 20 years ago. The gap between stone steps was impressive, making us wonder how the Incas — who were not tall people — were able to manage the stairs. We were about halfway through the descent when Julie slipped, wrenching her knee. The assistant guide, Rolando, was so concerned he held her hand the rest of the way to camp, much to her embarrassment.

Camp was a festive place. Only a relatively easy four-mile hike remained, and many trekkers toasted that fact with Cusquena, the local beer.

Dinner was celebratory, too. Afterward, Miguel introduced the porters, who ranged in age from 16 to 51. They seemed uncomfortable in the spotlight but, keeping to tradition, broke into a farewell song and asked the women to dance. They began to loosen up, and it was quite a scene.

After the song, each porter went around the room offering a sincere handshake and a heartfelt "muchas gracias." To see these shy, incredibly hardworking men open up like that was something we will never forget.

Some people headed back to the bar. Julie, however, was feeling ill and getting chills. There was little time to recuperate before the 4 a.m. wakeup call. It would be brutal but it would allow us to get to Machu Picchu by early daylight and ahead of the crowds.

Day 4: the anticlimax

It wasn't supposed to end like this. We hardly slept, the tent was miserably stuffy and Julie was suffering flulike symptoms in addition to the aching knee.

We picked at our breakfast of porridge and pancakes and got ready to go, soon finding ourselves — accompanied by Miguel — at the back of the pack, not just of our group but of everyone on the trail.

While Scott enjoyed a relatively easy walk and the anticipation of seeing Machu Picchu, Julie found each step agonizing because of her hobbled knee and roiling stomach. Despite assurances that our climbing days were over, it seemed that around each corner loomed a hill to scale or downhill steps to negotiate.

There really was no option but to continue, however. In extreme cases, ill or injured people are carried out by porters, but Julie kept putting one foot in front of the other, the morning largely a blur.

She did manage a few glimpses of Machu Picchu as it peeked from the fog, but it became apparent that she would not be able to join the group tour of the site, instead sitting in the snack bar drinking overpriced water and frequently limping to the, ahem, facilities.

As the loud, perfectly coiffed tourists stepped off their buses and tramped up to see Machu Picchu, she wanted to scream, "Hey, it's not fair. I got here the hard way!"

Scott, meanwhile, was enjoying the tour of the amazing and extensive site, taking notes in hopes that Julie might be able to see it as well.

She did see it — for all of about two minutes, time for a quick look around and a couple of photos to prove that she'd been there.

Scott and Julie Hanson are Seattle Times desk editors