Food Feature: In the footsteps of the Incas

A vast network of footpaths once stretched from what is now Columbia to central Chile, connecting the four corners of the Inca Empire before it was quashed by Francisco Pizzaro and has band of marauding Conquistadors in 1532. Because there were no horses in the New World before the arrival of the Spanish, the Incas traveled these trails by foot. The 27 miles that survive today make the best-known and most-traveled hiking trail in South America.

The Inca Trail leads from Peru’s beautiful Urubamba Valley, or “Sacred Valley,” to Machu Pichu, the so-called “Lost City of the Incas.” After their brutal defeat at the hands of the Spanish, the Inca erased their trails, pulling stone from the paths and covering them with brush so the Spanish couldn’t follow as they retreated to Vilcabamba — the last stronghold of the Inca Empire. Today, only a few miles of the trail feature the original stone.

When American historian Hiram Bingham stumbled upon the ruins of Machu Pichu in 1911 he thought he had found Vilcabamba (although remains of that fortress were later found at a more remote and inaccessible part of the jungle). Neither the Inca nor the Spanish had records of Machu Pichu, so the city lay forgotten on its mountain perch for more than 500 years.

Hiking the Inca Trail offers an opportunity to reconnect with the short, mysterious and majestic history of the Inca Empire. The hike takes an average of three nights and four days to complete. Though you can make the hike on your own, hiking with an outfitter is recommended: My girlfriend Regina and I arranged our hike through SAS outfitters, with $125 per person covering food, tent rental, guides and park admission fees. For an additional $40 we paid to have our bags carried so we could enjoy the hike “hands-free.”

We met at the SAS office in the city of Cuzco, Peru, at 6 a.m. on the day of our departure. Upon arrival we found bleary-eyed backpackers crammed in the tiny office eating bagels with peanut butter and bananas, drinking hot tea and coffee. Breakfast and the hour-and-a-half ride to the trail brought us close to our fellow hikers: a witty bunch from Belgium, a group of Scottish college girls and a married couple from Holland.

To save money, Regina and I stuffed everything we thought we’d need into one pack, but as we saw when we got to the trailhead, the packs weren’t going to be carried by mules or the burly Australians we saw working at the SAS office. They would be carried by small, rather impoverished-looking Peruvian natives.

Before we could remove items from our pack to make it lighter, the head porter snatched our bag. He held it with one arm to gage its weight before slapping it on the back of one of the other porters. Then he grabbed another, slightly smaller bag and tied it to the top of my pack. To this he added a random assortment of pans and food containers before sending the porter on his way. Amazingly, though the porters were wearing flip-flops and carrying twice their weight on their backs, they outpaced most of the Americans and Europeans who were wearing $200 Gore-Tex boots.

Of course, many of us couldn’t keep up because we were adjusting to the altitude. The trail climbs to several soaring vistas — some of which top out at an air-thinning 14,000 feet above sea level, and you can feel the lack of air in your blood, muscles and lungs. Some hikers had minor headaches, which were a small sacrifice for the stunning scenery we encountered.

The literal high point of our hike took us through what our guide Freddy called “cloud forests.” The slightest shifting of clouds could reveal a cool blue sky overhead, a 3,000-foot valley below us or a 4,000-foot peak before us. Dips and valleys took us through jungles where vines as thick as human thighs hung from trees.

Except for a stretch called Dead Woman’s Pass, the hiking was relatively easy. In the mornings we’d hike for three hours, take a break for lunch and then hike three to four hours in the afternoon. Hot meals were served for breakfast, lunch and diner and our tents were always set up for us when we got to camp.

At night we’d take “cat baths” in icy mountain streams and meet after dinner for tea and popcorn, staring up at the unfamiliar constellations of the Southern Hemi-sphere and sharing stories of our travels.

On the last day, we got up early and hiked the last stretch of the Inca Trail by flashlight so we could make it to Machu Pichu by sunrise — and what a magnificent sunrise it was. Fog was lifting from the old city, revealing the scattered shapes of houses, temples and courtyards. Light played on the mountains surrounding Machu Pichu, making the green grass that covers them appear soft, like drapes of velvet.

We had the park to ourselves for four hours before it opened to tourists coming by bus. We broke into small, quiet groups, moving among the foggy shapes of buildings slowly and silently, as if stunned by the magic and mystery of the ancient city.

To visit Machu Pichu is to wonder what it would have been like as a living city. In stone houses I imagined mothers cooking while their children slept in adjoining rooms. In wide-open courtyards I imagined the colors, sights and smells of the open bazaar. No matter where I stood or where I looked, the beautiful city was framed by the surrounding mountains. Windows looked out to 1,000 foot drop-offs and clouds danced at the city’s edge.

When tourists started arriving, Regina and I decided to head into nearby Aquas Calientes and kill some time in the natural thermal hot springs, but the place was far from the idyllic nature spring we imagined. Instead it was like a third-world hippie commune: people swam naked, Doors music blared full volume and the water looked like cholera.

After our bus failed to show, our entire group took an over-booked train back to Cuzco later that night. The four-hour train ride was filled to standing room only, with people sitting on top of seats and standing in crowded aisles to make room. Rather than be miserable, we sang Simon and Garfunkel songs with the Scottish girls as the train rattled into the night. When we got back to Cuzco, we danced at Mama Africa’s, a backpacker’s paradise, until 3 in the morning.

I have had the good fortune of visiting close to 30 different countries. Peru remains my favorite, largely because of this trip on the Inca Trail--a perfect combination of history, archeology, eco-tourism and fun.

For more information on SAS outfitters, phone or fax 011-51-84-237-292.??