Pinch Me!

Sunday, August 16, 2009
June 14

Morning came early. We arose at five-ish to discover that most of the other folks in town had already left. We climbed on a bus and headed up to the top of the hill. Once there, we had to wait in line to show our passports and get our bags inspected. The park only allows small day packs inside, but there is no template for this. Jim Bob was told he could not bring his in even though it was no bigger than anyone else’s.

Upon entering the gate we made our way about a half a mile across the park to another gate. There we awaited tickets that would allow us to climb to the top of Huaynu Picchu. The second trip, at ten, was full so we waited for the first one. This trip was supposed to be allowed to leave anytime, but since they stagger the people climbing, we had to wait almost an hour for our turn. During this time, Carrie discovered that she still had Zachary’s passport and ticket and Nancy realized that Jim Bob had hers! We hoped this wouldn’t be a problem.

Mere minutes before entering the gate, Jim Bob showed up with Zman. The little guy was almost in tears. He had to go to the bathroom which was outside the front gate. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t let him leave or re-enter without a passport and ticket. We quickly traded paperwork and urged them on their way, hoping they could make it the half mile without an accident.

The hike itself was extremely steep. Fortunately, the Incas had placed steps along the way and the Peruvian Government had installed cables to grasp. It was slow going up. From the top were the most spectacular views of the main ruins and the hills surrounding them. It was crowded at the top and difficult to find a place to stand, but the vistas were stunning. We stayed for a while and then headed back down to find JB and Z.

Upon reaching the bottom, we caught up with the others and began our exploration of this magnificent place. Our small group of five had reservations to stay in Aguas Calientes one more night, giving us the entire day to spend investigating. Others from the group were compelled to leave at one. We roamed around until four or so and then bussed it back down to the bottom.

The village took about seventy years to build, but was only occupied for about thirty-five years. The most fascinating part about the whole story to me is the idea that no one really knows what happened there. Why was it built? Who lived there? Did others come to worship? Why was it abandoned? Any answers we got to these questions were merely speculation. As we asked different guides we got different answers.

We all wandered off in separate directions, exploring these ancient spaces at our own pace. We startled chinchillas, encountered dead ends, and laid tranquilly in the grass. At long last we made our way to the front gate where we met our friends and boarded a bus for the journey to town. We were all moved by what we had seen and rode the forty minutes in silence, contemplating this wondrous place.

I first saw a picture of Machu Picchu hanging on Mr. Cantrell’s wall. He was my high school Guidance Counselor. The picture was a poster; it was a place that he had never been. It captured my imagination. For twenty-five years, I kept it in my head that I wanted to see that place, to experience it first hand, and now I had. I was not disappointed. It was worth the wait. No amount of words can describe the feeling I held as we descended that mountain. I shall cherish that memory always.

MJR