Wednesday, August 6

Location: Machu Picchu, Peru

Today's weather: 18░C, Cloudy with light rain in the afternoon.

Today was one of the most exciting days that I've had yet on my adventure. Today I would get to visit Machu Picchu – the lost city of the Incas, which I'd read so much about but never seen. Better still, I had a really exciting helicopter ride booked to take me there. The ride was booked through a company called HeliCusco, who had a big Russian-built helicopter called a Mi-8. It was a type of helicopter that had originally been designed for the former-Soviet Army, delivering them into European battlefields – but this one had been refurbished like a mini-airliner and could carry 24 passengers in relative comfort. Better still, the ride to Machu Picchu only took 25 minutes instead of the five hours that it takes by train (although I did have to spend one hour waiting at the airport terminal prior to the helicopter's departure).

The helicopter ride was a lot of fun, and the views from the windows were quite spectacular – especially when we passed close to some mountains or flew over river valleys. Most of the other passengers onboard had cameras, so everyone was clambering around trying to get photographs. The flight was very smooth, although the initial takeoff was a little slow – I think this is because the air high-up in the Andes is very thin, which makes it more difficult for helicopters to fly. In fact, we may be so high up that only very special helicopters can fly here (the big Russian helicopters are the only ones that I've seen here).

Twenty-five minutes after takeoff, the helicopter landed us in a field by the train station – about 1,500 feet below the ruins. At the train station I bought my ticket to return to Cuzco that afternoon (there were no queues, and it was much easier to buy than at the Cuzco station). I bought a ticket to travel local-class instead of on the Tourist Train – the cost was 15 soles ($NZ 7). I then had breakfast at a small restaurant across from the station. The restaurant was really just a big tarpaulin cover on poles with a dirt floor and a few tables underneath. But they served good banana pancakes and coffee. I felt so lucky being in such a beautiful place, outdoors, and being able to eat a wonderful breakfast in such an exotic location. Machu Picchu seemed to be much higher up than Cuzco, but it looked like it never snowed here either. I was surprised to see a few banana trees growing close to one of the paths.

After my late breakfast, I caught one of the small buses which takes visitors up the remainder of the mountain to the ruins. I was glad that they had buses because it would have been very long climb on foot and would have taken me a few hours (and I would have been exhausted because of the lack of oxygen). The bus ride took about 20 minutes – and had to zig-zag up the mountain because going straight up would have been too steep. The view from the bus window, looking down the mountainside was incredible. Seeing the steep mountainsides it is easy to see why Machu Picchu remained hidden for so long – and why its possible that there are other cities still being discovered, and perhaps others that will remain hidden for many years to come.

Soon afterwards, I was in the ruins and exploring the Incas' ancient city. I wandered around the ruins for the remainder of the morning, and until 3pm when it started to rain lightly. The experience was a little awe-inspiring, but not as magical as I had imagined. I think that it is very hard to learn about an entire culture by the cold dead stones that they left behind. I could see many buildings and houses – but I didn't really know what many of the buildings and temples were, and it was a little to tell what living there would have been like. It struck me that cultures are living breathing things – just seeing where they once lived doesn't give you much of an understanding about them. Fortunately I've done lots of reading about the Incas, and had a guidebook that explained the ruins, so I was able to understand and interpret some of the things that I saw. I took lots of photos, and spent a little time playing with some llamas which were munching on grass in the centre of the ruins.

When the rain started at 3pm, I left the ruins to catch a bus back to the train station below. I waited in a queue for about a half hour – during which several buses arrived, but there were so many people in the queue that I couldn't get on until the third or forth bus. Machu Picchu is now one of the most visited places in South America – which is why there were so many people. On the busride down, there was a boy (about 10 years old) dressed in traditional Inca costume. When the bus went past, he waved and yelled. Then, just a few minutes later and further down the hill, we passed the same boy – who waved and yelled again. In fact, every few minutes as we got further down the mountainside, we encountered the same boy waving and yelling. He was running down the mountain, taking shortcuts so as to get ahead of the bus – then would wait for the bus where his path crossed with the road, wave, and then run off again to repeat his performance. Near the end of our busride, he jumped aboard the bus and people gave him money for his efforts.

The bus dropped me a little further down the mountain than I had started off. Now I wish that it hadn't. The place that it dropped us off was a small village built along the train tracks. It looked as if the village had grown as a result of the tourist industry and the many hikers who walk the Inca trail. There were some hostels and many little cafes where people could order food, coffee, and beer. There were people pushing trolleys and handcarts along the railway until a train whistled and they all ran off to the sides of the tracks. My train was the third to come along, so I had to wait for about an hour.

When my train finally arrived, there was mad pushing and shoving just to get in. I discovered that even though I had been given a seat number, all of the seats had been grabbed at the previous station further up the mountain (which is why I wish the bus hadn't dropped me off further down). Inside the carriage was standing-room only. But people still pushed in – until eventually there was no more room at all. When the train finally left, there were people hanging out the doorways, and even people standing outside the carriages on the couplings that linked the train together. The train was full of local people, including mothers with babies who were also crushed in the rush to get on. The doors of the carriage remained wide open because there were simply too many people in the carriages to be able to close them.

I was standing next to an open doorway, with just a few people between me and the outside. I was worried because each time the train went around a bend, the people behind me pushed me forwards so that I was afraid I would topple frontwards and accidentally push others out of the moving train. So I held on very tightly to avoid knocking anyone over and to fight those pushing behind me. After about half an hour I was glad that I was close to the door because it meant fresh air – the toilet was close by, and every time someone opened the door there was a terrible smell that made me feel sick. Miraculously, there was a ticket conductor who somehow managed to work his way through the tightly-packed crowd to check tickets and collect money from those who didn't have them. He then climbed out of the doorway while the train was still moving, and climbed around the outside of the train to the next carriage (presumably checking the tickets of the people on the outside of the train, also). The people on the outside of the train were mostly young males – some of whom voluntarily climbed outside to avoid the crush and suffocation on the inside. I thought about doing the same, but wasn't confident about hanging onto the outside of the train for several hours – especially since it looked cold and likely to rain again.

As the train went on its journey, I was able to see several old Inca houses and terraces through the open doorway, until it got dark and it was hard for me to see anything outside at all (except for the people hanging onto the train). The mothers with babies closest to the doorway managed to crouch down tightly so that they could tend the babies which they held in their arms. One of the mothers was crouched below me, with a young baby who was amusing himself by reaching upwards to play with the loose ties on my jacket – and forcing me to stand in such a way as not to accidentally crush or fall on him. The crowded conditions continued for about two and half hours until the train reached the station of Ollantayambo. Here, the train finally half-emptied out so that I could get a seat for the three hours remaining in the journey. I tried to sleep for the rest of the trip because I was very tired – but sleeping on the train was very difficult. I half-dozed with my eyes shut until we reached Cuzco.

The train arrived in Cuzco just after 10pm. I jostled my way through the crowd to get off, then walked back to my hostel which was 10 minutes away. I felt so exhausted that I didn't bother with dinner (not that I felt very hungry anyway). I just climbed into bed and went to sleep – thankful that the experience of the trainride was now behind me.