The Road To Machu Picchu: Part Four - The Easiest Day

Say hello to my nemesis.

This is the Ridgeline Backpack made by REI. It was recommended to me by my friend Brian. Brian used to be a Boy Scout. I trust Brian.

I hate this backpack.

Scratch that. I hate it when it's full. I hate it when it weighs over 20 lbs. I hate it more when I have to strap the damn thing on my back and hike 27 miles over four days. And that's exactly what I was expected to do.

Why would I even consider putting myself through all this physical activity? Do I like hiking? Put it this way. Here in L.A., my office is located less than a mile from my apartment, and I STILL choose to drive. And I'm supposed to hike 27 miles with the equivalent of a chubby two-year-old on my back over the next four days.

So again, why did I decide to fork over some of my hard earned pay to hike the Inca Trail?

I have absolutely no idea.

Here's how the first day of the hike starts: You wake up around 5 am (which, when you compare your wakeup times for the next three days, is actually kind of late). Then you take a bus through the outskirts of Cusco, down into the Sacred Valley to the town of Ollantaytambo, where you stop for breakfast, after you're bombarded by locals trying to sell you walking sticks (ESSENTIAL for the hike, by the way). After a super-quick meal, you're whisked back into the bus to the start of the trail, and the start of a exhilarating trek through the Andes.

Here's how my first day started:

I damn near lost my passport right before boarding the bus, causing me to have the mother of all panic attacks (I eventually found it). When we picked up our bags to start the hike, my pack was soaked on account of my leaky CamelPack (which I might as well call Public Enemy #2). Not only that, the backpacks that were touching mine were soaked as well. Their owners were not too happy with me. Oh, by the way, the thermal underwear I packed was soaked as well.

And on that note....I began the Inca Trail.



As you can see, I'm undeterred.


*Nothin' stoppin' me now!*

The hike started out fine. And then it got...steep. Very steep. Oh, and the day was quite hot. And I was carrying gear soaked to the core, making the Ridgeline Backpack from REI that much heavier. By lunchtime, I felt nauseous and dehydrated. By the end of the day as I pulled into the sleepy farm town of Wallyabamba, I was drenched in perspiration, totally exhausted, and my thermal underwear is still wet.

And this is the best part: Day One is supposed to be easiest day of the hike.

Was I taking in the wonderful scenery? Not really. Was I bonding with my group and tour guides. Heck no, I was bringing up the rear the whole time. Was I enjoying myself? Absolutely not.

This is how I slept on the first night:



I'm using an unopened roll of toilet paper for a pillow (Which I never used. More on that later). I have a trash bag protecting my feet from my damp sleeping bag. Because I don't have any (dry) thermals, I'm wearing my windbreaker on top of my fleece. My fleece is soaked in sweat, as is the t-shirt I'm wearing underneath. Why not change shirts, you may ask? Soaked. That's right. All my clothes were soaked either from Public Enemy #2 or from good ol' fashioned sweat. Good times!

Before going to "bed", I wrote a little blurb in my journal to describe my experience.

This is what I wrote:

"Day One Sucked."

And the next day, I was supposed to climb around 4000 feet up something called Dead Woman's Pass. All during that first night, as I constantly adjusted my roll of toilet paper for maximum comfort, I thought that they might just have to rename it to Dead Eman's Pass when all was said and done.

Here's my paltry collection from Day One. I do apologize for the lack of scenery pictures. But not really.