Machu Picchu: mystical and awe-inspiring or a terrifying near-death experience?



Michael and I at the entrance to Machu Picchu

This tour was, hands down, the worst money we ever saved (and ultimately spent anyway).  We almost died.   Some quick background for those who have not been there: the primary way to get to Aguas Calientes, the town at the entrance to Machu Picchu, is by ¨the train¨, which is actually a bus from Cusco to Ollantaytambo and then a really nice train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes. This train is notoriously expensive (to us budget backpackers anyway). Alternatively, you can go by car on a road from Ollantaytambo to Hidroelectrica and then either a short train or walk 10 kms along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes, which saves the cost of the expensive train ticket, but adds a few hours of travel time.  Not wanting to miss seeing Machu Picchu, but also not wanting to break our budget to see one place, we booked the tour by car. 

Michael and I instantly did not like our driver or his little sidekick-assistant. They blasted bad music from the beginning and, when I politely asked that he turn it down a notch, he groaned like I was his mother and barely turned it down, then turned it back up soon after. With disingenuous politeness, I asked him to turn it down more than four times. He drove through crowded streets with complete disregard for people´s lives, sneering and gesturing at people, animals and drivers in his way. If only this were the worst of it…

He was annoying and rude on paved road, but became dangerously arrogant as the road went from a regular highway to a steep, one-car-wide dirt road with blind switchbacks, rockfall, sheer cliffs, and oncoming traffic. He turned the music up, danced with the sidekick, drummed on the steering wheel, and talked on his cell phone as we careened dangerously, the tires squealing, around corners. We asked him to slow down several times and he brushed us off like flies, then started talking badly about Americans to his sidekick and how well he knows this road (I understand more Spanish than I can speak…). 

Michael and I have endured (perhaps even enjoyed) some bad roads on this trip, but they were nothing close to how dangerous this road was with this driver. I felt so trapped and helpless that the fear was making me sick. At one point we came around a blind curve and almost went straight into another car, skidding to a stop about a foot from the 1,000 ft cliff. A bit later we careened around a corner to find a giant boulder had fallen on the road making it look impassable on the cliff-side of the rock. The driver proceeded like there was no danger at all. I found myself screaming at the top of my lungs “Stop! I want to walk!!” (in Spanish) several times in his ear, yet he would not let us out – and our door would only open from the outside. Michael, our hero, jumped over the seat and out the front window to let all of us prisoners er… passengers escape. The driver did make it past the boulder (with one or two inches to spare) but I was happy to be on my own two feet. When we finally stopped at the end of the road, the entire van was outraged at the driver and he and Michael came close to fight. It was awful. I have never been so terrified for my life.

Luckily, we left the driver and sidekick in Hidroelectrica and had a much more pleasant and competent guide for the rest of the tour. Our next leg was to walk 10 km (about 6 miles) to Agua Calientes, a nice flat trail along the train tracks and beside a raging canyon river with huge mountains looming above us. Unfortunately, just as the knots in my stomach eased, the sky let loose a torrential rain storm. Big, fat raindrops soaked us through within minutes. Michael didn´t have any plastic to cover his camera, so we found ourselves hiding out in a small house hoping the worst of the rain would pass in a few minutes. The owner politely informed us that it would last at least an hour and gave us some plastic bags. The group had continued walking, so we had a ways to catch up. Unfortunately, the sun was also setting and we had several miles to go. We trudged through the mud, soaking wet, in the darkness of the early evening. When we finally arrived in town, we learned that no one would dry our clothes before the next morning at 5am when we planned to leave for Machu Picchu. 

Thus, I unintentionally made my debut in leggings. Thankful for modern fashion trends, I wore my long underwear (the only clothes that I managed to keep dry) the entire next day without too many awkward looks. All of poor Michael´s clothes were soaked, making the rest of the trip a bit cold and uncomfortable for him.

We arrived at the ruins around sunrise and had about one hour of great views.  Machu Picchu is really is an incredible place – I can see why it is one of the Seven Wonders of the World.  Clouds soon obstructed all views of the majestic lost city as more and more people arrived to experience it. Even with the HOARDES of tourists and clouds, the ruins were a powerful sight to see.

One of many awe-inspiring moments at Machu Picchu (and Michael hasn´t even downloaded his pictures yet!)

While we were not successful in getting the agency to change our driver for the way back, enough of us had passionately complained that our guide assured us the driver would drive slowly and safely back. With our fingers crossed, we took the 30-minute train to Hidroelectrica and got back in the van. About another 30 minutes down the road (with the driver going a less-reckless speed), we turned a corner to find an impassable landslide. We were stopped just next to it when we realized that more rocks continued to fall all around us. Again, the driver refused to let us out so Michael had to jump through the window to release us and we all walked quickly back to safety. 

Our group now consisted of Michael and I and four Brazilians who were done with risking our lives and ready to shell out whatever money it took to get back to Cusco safely. Our driver, of course, refused to be a decent human being and drive us back to Hidroelectrica, so we all took cabs (which were arriving quickly to take advantage of the opportunity) back to the train. We barely made it before the train pulled out, thanks in large part to our Brazilian friends who grabbed our stuff for us, pushed us to the front of the line, and demanded that we be given tickets. We made it to Aguas Calientes and, with a stroke of luck, were able to get tickets on the main train back to Ollantaytambo and then a collectivo (a bus-like taxi) back to Cusco. We arrived late in the evening but were still able to catch a few hours of sleep before we had to be back at the airport the next morning for our flight to Lima. 

I will never forget our tour of Machu Picchu, but I would strongly recommend anyone who goes in the future to consider the train to be well worth the money.  It was the low point of our entire trip so far.