Upon arriving in Aguas Calientes Tuesday, Hernan and I grabbed a 3 o’clock bus to Machu Picchu to see the ruins at sunset (Wes remained behind at the hotel, trying to fight off a nasty case of turista.).
A serpentine, dusty bus ride up countless switchbacks took us to the lost city.
All I can say is “increible!” Words really don’t cut it. Clouds crowned the surrounding mountains while sparrows and swallows tittered excitedly in the waning day. And almost on cue, a soft mist began to fall, refracting the sun’s setting rays into a rainbow that arced from the twisting Rio Vilcanota to Wayna Picchu.
We stayed for about an hour and a half, just soaking in the view and trying to imagine what it must have been like when Machu Picchu was buzzing with life. The experience was especially intimate because there was almost no one there. Just a handful of tourists, llamas, a pair of chinchillas and the soaring birds.
After catching the sunset, we decided to return early Wednesday for the sunrise. Wes had recovered and joined us.
The trip up was more crowded, and it was more difficult to capture the sublime solitude of the night before, but it still was spectacular. The sun streamed in through the surrounding peaks, making Machu Picchu’s stone structures shimmer in the dawn.
We spent about five hours touring the site. The Incans mirrored the heavens and earth with their architecture. Hernan’s sage guidance gave us great insight into the various features at Machu Picchu, and he told us that even though it was more crowded than the previous night, it really wasn’t that bad overall. That was tough to believe as we ate lunch, watching bus after bus grind to a dusty halt and disgorge 33 tourists, looking a little stunned after the twisting trip in.