The Inca Trail

The age-old debate.

No, not whether the chicken came before the egg but what hurts more - childbirth or a kick in the nuts. Come on, the answer is pretty obvious. I don't even need to have had any experience of the former (promise, Mum) to know that men couldn't handle spending hours pushing the equivalent of a tennis ball out of their penises when half of them believe they're on their death bed when they have a bad cold. The only reason the debate even exists is because women don't make a big fuss about childbirth. The happiness at the end of it makes them forget the hard moments and they skim over these with a: "Ooh, it pinched a bit but it was SO worth it."

It's always the same. It's what we all say when we've been through something that physically and mentally pushed us to the limit but had a positive end result which inevitably makes us view the bad times through rose tinted glasses. You get through it, you feel happy and proud, and the fact that you wanted to punch the nearest person suddenly becomes something that "wasn't that bad."

What's my point?

Well, the Inca Trail is like childbirth. Ask anyone who's done it before you and they say: "It was difficult but totally worth it." Ask Imran & I right now how we feel about having just completed it and we'll say: "It was tough but it was worth it." However, my nightly diary of the Trail tells a very different story.. and that's the one you're going to hear now. The completely truthful day-by-day account, warts 'n' all, as we felt it, without any of this "ooh, but the fact that I didn't go to the loo for four days for fear of slipping over in sh*t didn't mean it was THAT bad" business.

Let's have a brief history lesson first. The Incas were a really groovy bunch of people; an ancient civilization so advanced they were performing brain surgeries centuries ago. I love their religious philosophy. Nature was God. Live with nature, respect it and know its strength is always mightier than your own. They worshipped the Andean mountains and volcanoes as God and built cities all over South America on this terrain. The trail we did was the longest; a four day trek covering over 40km with the majority of the trail being a part of the actual pathways built by the Incas. The goal? To get to Machu Picchu or 'The Lost City of the Incas,' a site of ruins of an estate believed to be built for the Inca Emperor Pachacuti.

Day 1: They say this is the easiest day. It's a mere 10km of 'Andean flats' which is the guides' term for land that is a constant "up and down, down and up." Trekking in blazing heat takes a bit of getting used to, as do the t-shirts stuck to your back like a second skin and soaked with sweat but agreed, it's not physically the toughest day. But if, like me, you weren't in the mood to start the Trail just yet, then it's a full-on mission to get yourself through the day. I was in a bad mood, I struggled more than I should have because I was wishing the whole thing to be over with every step and negativity ain't gonna help anyone on the Inca Trail. Poor Imran was really worried about how he'd survive the next few days if I continued to be such a barrel of laughs.

Day 2: But all was well because I did what I usually do when I'm in this kind of negative state of mind and had a long talk with myself. Some might call this a sign of madness but if the result is I snap out of it and decide to view things wholly positively then what harm is there in a little nuttiness? So we started day 2 as happy bunnies. Good job too, as the second morning is considered to be the hardest part of the trek - a continuous steep, rocky, uphill climb for 9km. Most of it is made up of steps which, in true Inca style, are so deep that we felt like we were raising our knees higher than our chests just to get on up. And there was me thinking the Incas were short. (But nope, it's just me who's short!) It's a killer on your glutes, quads and lungs because as much as you take deep breaths, it's not enough when you're climbing up to 4200m altitude. Of course, we were well aware that altitude sickness pills could've helped but those who know me well know my response was obviously: "Screw your Western medicine. I'd much rather suffer a little headache and have mild trouble breathing fully than put chemicals into my body that do more long term harm than short term good." What surprised me was that Imran said the same. "We're into natural stuff," he said to the guide, making me grin with joy at his first ever use of the word "we" in this context. Then he got out his coca leaves - the plant from which cocaine derives and which is a natural energy boost and altitude aid - and chewed on a whole bunch until his mouth became numb.

So with our muscles, lungs and skin burning (thanks, sun), we slowly but positively made our way to the top point. After this it's easy, they say. Just downhill steps all the way to base camp... bollocks, is it!

Just before we reached the peak I mistakenly said: "Wish it wasn't so hot!" Crikey, you don't say things like that in front of the mountain Gods! The Incas believed the mountains ruled the weather. My wish was a bit like saying "If I wear a seriously low cut top I hope people don't stare at my knockers" - of COURSE it's going to happen! And so it started to rain. And rain and rain and rain. And then the wind started up, nearly blowing us straight off the mountain top. This so-called easy downhill bit? It wasn't made up of steps, for a start. It was just a long hike down steep rocky terrain (something that scares me more than the average person due to a slightly unnatural fear of breaking my elbows.) It mightn't have been so bad if it weren't for the rain. But the slippery rocks meant we both took a tumble, with me adding an extra mighty fall to the equation which sent me rolling down several metres leaving bits of skin off my arms on the rocks above me and a twist on my ankle. It was so cold that my fingers were too numb to grab hold of anything. It was at that point I almost felt like crying and that the Inca Trail was definitely NOT worth this. But I obviously didn't cry because I'm not a bloody baby and definitely not a quitter, so we dug deep and carried on. Ignoring our clothes soaked right through with cold rain and the hunger in our tummies from having not eaten a proper meal since 6am (it was now 4pm), we finally made it to camp and prayed for the Trail to be over as soon as possible.

Day 3: Surprising, then, that we started day 3 positive, happy and on a mission to "smash it up." We were determined to not get caught in the predicted afternoon rain again and that meant trekking like we'd never trekked before. Getting up at 4.30am, Imran and I growled and roared through breakfast like determined lions and then practically ran for eight hours. It just goes to show, your body is fitter than you think it is and can keep on going - it's your will that makes things difficult. Day 3 is also considered to be one of the hardest as it's 16km long and a dizzying variety of steep uphill climbs, even steeper downhill treks and Andean flats. But nothing was going to stop us today. Not even my ankle. I asked our guide what would happen if someone had an injury at this point. "They would not be allowed to continue the Trail," she replied. Screw that! There was not a chance in hell I was going to stop now. So, how to deal with the pesky pain in my foot? Visualization, of course.

I'm sure this is just a load of rubbish to many people. A mind-body connection doesn't exist (of course not, that's why nobody ever blushes when they're embarrassed or sweats when they're self-conscious.) To visualize something as being well when it's not requires a mindfulness and full focus that is usually too difficult for me to achieve for long periods of time. But there's something about the Inca Trail. Some might call it the spiritual energy of the mountains; I simply call it the concentration required for every single step of the hike. Whatever it is, mindfulness for an entire day is easy here and anyone is capable of finding the mental strength needed to convince their brain that their ankle is ok. After a couple of hours, it worked. And continued working for the remaining 2 days and 24km.

So anyway, it did rain in the afternoon of the 3rd day. But we were so far ahead by that point that we didn't get caught in it for too long. It was a great day for us. The most beautiful day scenically and our strongest day both mentally and physically. Even so... we were ridiculously relieved that there was just one day left.

Day 4: The final day started at 3.15am. You'd think there was a positivity in the air, that 500 people would feel a sense of community; proud and excited that we'd all done this together and were soon to see one of the new Wonders of the World. But no, you get a lot of 'box tickers' on this adventure: people who are doing it simply for the sake of saying they've done it rather than to appreciate the magnificence of the ancient path they are literally treading. These people start the final day with a chip on their shoulders and fierce competitiveness to push and barge past every other person in a bid to make it to Machu Picchu first. They're the same people who yell to their friends: "Hey duuude! You think if I throw this cigarette over the edge I can set a f**kin' cloud on firrre?" and the ones who moan: "Dude, this is really frickin' dangerous here. It's like, they don't give a crap if I like sue them for breaking my leg, man. They need to make this path safer, duuude." (It's an ancient path built centuries ago, not one created a few months ago by the tourist office purely for your presence, dumb ass.)

After a relatively easy 6km march, we made it to the Sun Gate at the top of the mountain just after dawn. From here we could see Machu Picchu at a distance and the view was breathtaking. There was a mist in the air from a night that had only recently finished, the skies were clear and there was an eerie, mind-blowing calm that just filled every cell in our bodies. It was magnificent. For me, it was a better destination than Machu Picchu itself which, although beautiful, lost the magic close-up due to the tourists, the slightly unrealistic restored walls and manicured patches of grass that reminded me of looking down into the Tower Of London grounds.

Far from being finished, we decided (ok, I did) for some loony reason that it'd be a great idea to climb Wayna Picchu, a ridiculously steep and exposed hike up another mountain 1200ft above Machu Picchu. This isn't really worth doing if you've just done the four day trek. It was simply hardcore exercise (as if we hadn't worked hard enough already!) to see the same view from a higher summit. Sure, it was gorgeous, but it was also scary because we were literally one foot slip and trip away from plummeting down to our deaths (yes, slightly over-dramatic.) But we did it - getting seriously sunburnt in the process - and then finally rested our tired legs and aching knees after a 100-hour endurance test.

So, what's the verdict? Physically, the Inca Trail is hard but fantastic. If I worked out liked that every single day I'd look like Cris Cyborg in no time. It's easy to not shower or know what you look like for four days. Everyone smells and looks the same! The end result of seeing Machu Picchu is not worth doing the trek for, but the end result of the feeling of pride, satisfaction and sense of achievement definitely is. To be with nature and to be mindful non-stop for this amount of time fills you with a joy and contentment which we were surprised to find residing within us afterwards. We couldn't believe how happy and peaceful we both felt that afternoon. What would stop us from doing the Inca Trail ever again is the state of the toilets. I expected bad but I didn't expect SO bad that I would never do this trail again for this reason alone. Camping is not our cup of tea but we could easily do it again. But our guide told us the trail is a protected site and they can't build decent loos here. They are literally holes in the floor Indian-style which smell horrific and are dirty as hell - nobody has any idea if the floor is covered in rain and mud or pee and poo. Imran and I had to give each other a consolatory hug after every visit just to feel better about the minging nature of it all.

If, like us, you've never gone camping before, the Inca Trail is a pretty crazy place to start. If, like us, you've not really hiked before, the Inca Trail is a pretty hardcore trek to throw yourself into. If your fitness levels are average, you'd be mad to think the Inca Trail won't test you. By these standards, we must be doolally to have done this. But what we found we had in abundance was a determination and mental strength that can override any limitations of physical fitness and hating of the circumstances.

In summary, it was really tough but definitely worth it... but just the one time!