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Trekking in the foot steps of the Incas

IntroMust see, must do, do before you die. Ever heard these words before? I bet youhave, along with countless other done to death descriptions of things that reallydont qualify as such.

My pet hates are few, but I cant stand the fact that thanks to the tabloid mediaweve become almost completely desensitized to dramatic descriptions, and thatsbecause theyre dished out daily to describe the most mundane things.

The greatest offenders must be the pundits on Sky Sports who would think nothingof describing a mind numbingly boring nil all draw as truly unmissable.

But tonight, Im going to try and stop the rot and restore your faith in the power ofdescriptive language.

In my short years, Ive been lucky enough to travel quite a bit and see and do manymemorable things, but I darent utter the hallowed words do before you die,unless describing something truly special.

The Inca Trail to the lost city of Macchu Piccu qualifies as such in my book. Itstands out for its cocktail of jaw-dropping natural beauty, palpable sense ofadventure and the immense personal satisfaction of completing a 47km hike ofsteep climbs at dizzying heights. Id now like you to join me on that adventure as Irecount this intrepid tale.

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Day 1The starting point for the trek was an oxygen starved 8900ft above sea level. Toput that in perspective, Irelands highest peak Carrantoohill is a lowly 3400ft tall.For us folk reared at sea-level this makes breathing a battle, and thats beforetrekking and climbing for hours on end.

Firstly our guide Celso introduced us to the team of porters who would be carryingthe mountain of supplies needed for the trek. Bags packed the porters bounded offinto the distance, with loads that would have banjaxed your average beast ofburden. Wrapped snugly in our llama woolies, we set off shortly afterwards. I fullyexpected to catch up with the weighed down porters in a matter of minutes. Wedidnt see them again for several hours!

As we climbed steadily into the mountains, our garrulous guide Celso regaled uswith tales of the Incas every step of the trail. We set up camp for lunch at a placecalled Wayllabamba, where the porters pulled off a loaves and fishes type miracleproducing a kingly feast from a tiny tent. Our panting posse stuffed ourselves until

we could eat no more. Fed and watered we were ready to attacked the ascent oncemore. By the end of the 1st day we had climbed over 3000ft and trekked 16km.

That night at our campsite as darkness enveloped us, I was overwhelmed by what Isaw when I gazed skywards. Never before had I seen a nights sky so bursting withstars. They blazed like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun, but even that paled incomparison to being able to see the milky way so clearly that it felt like a divinemural on my bedroom ceiling.

Day 2Shortly after setting off on the 2nd morning, my buddy Gary and myself found

ourselves at the front of our group and we felt that we were making heady progressin the struggle with the never-ending stairs of slabbed steps. All of a sudden ayoung girl came bounding up behind in a frantic hurry. At first I thought the lack ofoxygen was playing a trick on me, as it appeared that this small girl was carryingmore than her own body weight in soft drinks on her back.

We struck up a chat in our broken Spanish, but she wasted no time telling us shecouldnt wait up as she had to get up the mountain with the drinks to sell them tothe hikers who passed by. A little miffed at being told by an 8 year old carrying aback-breaking burden that she couldnt wait for us, we resolved to keep up withher. This endeavour lasted about 5 minutes as the young lady left us trailing in her

wake gasping for breath like fish out water.

Our guide was true to his word, the climb that morning was the toughest of thewhole trip. After 2 hours of scaling steps we had climbed over a 1000 feet, andwere fast approaching the highest point along the trail; Dead Womans Pass,perched at a dizzying 13,779ft.On the final stretch, the lack of oxygen impaired my judgement and I decided tosprint the last 50m. This resulted in my nearly passing out when I got to the top and

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having to lie down! Once Id regained my breath, I was able to take in the view.What I witnessed next nearly caused me to pass out again.

The intoxicating splendour of the never ending mountain scape is hard to justifywith mere words. It felt like we had breached the heavens. We sat in silence for along time, simply taking it all in.

Day 3Day 3 was the easiest of all as it was mostly downhill. Along the way we saw manyexamples of Inca agriculture with perfectly preserved farming terraces carved intomountain sides. Celsos tales of Inca deeds were growing ever more fantastical, andwe were starting to suspect the historical accuracy of some of his ramblings. Thator he was chewing too many cocoa leaves.

Day 4On the last day, our guides roused us at 4am to make final ascent before sunrise.Head torches in place, we sleepily waded into the impenetrable dark. The rewardfor our early endeavour was rich indeed. We clambered through the lofty Sun-Gate

just as the sun crested the mountains overlooking Urubamba valley. This is wherethe lost city lays hidden, surrounded by fortress of mountains.

Blessed with a clear morning, we watched in wide-eyed wonderment as the sunsrays began to flood the valley, revealing its majestic secret from the darkness, thelost city of Macchu Piccu. After the sun had cleared the opposing mountains, welingered long marveling at this celestial setting. Once the snap happy among weresated, we began our victorious march into the city itself. As the 1st group to arrivewe had the pleasure of wondering this gateway to the past before the arrival of thehordes of tourists by train.

Celso then gathered our group together to give the history of the city. His zanytheories had now convinced me that he was complete charlatan but also asorcerous story-teller. Baffled by all the unanswered questions, yet in the thrall ofthis enchanted enclave we wondered aimlessly until it was finally time to leave thisInca Oz. Reluctantly, we boarded the train back to Cuzco; our muscles throbbing,bodies bruised and battered but with a stock of precious memories for life.

So is the Inca Trail to Macchu Piccu a do before you die experience? Id bet my lifeon it.