Blog 5: My Holy Grail

15 November 2023

After my day hooning around the Sacred Valley on a quad bike at speeds of up to 35kph, it was time to leave Cusco for a couple of nights and head down to Ollantaytambo (Olly for short). My plan was to drop my gear at the Intitambo hotel in Olly and hike with my tent up to Inti Punku, the Incan Sun Gate, some 2000m above the town and 1000m above Machu Picchu (located in the next valley).

I'd been obsessed with the Sun Gate since I first saw images of it early in the year. It's on the Inca Trail and it's the point at which soldiers and monks walking to Machu Picchu entered the citadel area. On one side it looks out over a massive valley to Mount Veronica, a dramatic, triangular snow-capped peak that towers over the whole region. On the other side, on a clear day (i.e. not often), you can look down and make out Machu Picchu on the ridges below.

The Incans used to worship Mount Veronica, and on one day of the year (perhaps the equinox, I'm not sure) the sun rises over the mountain peak, crosses the valley and shines through the sun gate, sending a beam of light down to Machu Picchu, where it reaches a temple window and illuminates an altar used for sacrifices. (I know. That's a lot of work for one beam, but you'll just need to trust me on this.) The gate still stands there on its own, almost 4500m above sea level, stoically facing the mountain, a lonely testament to a lost civilisation and, perhaps more generally, humanity's search for meaning. I can't think of a more spectacular place. Getting there was my Holy Grail.

William The Conquistador (WTC)

I'd arranged a driver to take me down to Olly, rather than catching a bus which would take twice as long. William, who, mercifully, could speak English, turned up on the dot at 8.00am, and after dropping my large case off at another hotel in Cusco, we headed out of town. William told me early in the trip that his ancestors were conquistadors and that is why he spoke English. (I know, confusing. Let it go).

Olly is in the Sacred Valley, and as such is several thousand meters lower than Cusco. To begin with, however, we climbed to the outskirts of Cusco. At one point we passed women waving yellow plastic bags on the ends of at the traffic, and I asked WTC what they were doing. He explained that they are bread merchants, the waving indicates they've just baked fresh loaves. In Peru it is good manners to bring a loaf of bread with you when visiting anyone; and not just one loaf for, say, the family, but a loaf for every person you anticipate will be there, as well as loaves for yourselves - the idea is to arrive and eat bread (I think a lot of family get togethers could be improved by that idea). Every now and then we would see a vehicle stacked to the rafters with loaves of bread and WTC would say 'yep, visiting someone'. We did a lot of bread-spotting on the car trip.

As we descended into the Sacred Valley, the scenery became more and more dramatic. On the valley floor, a raging river raged, crops of corn rustled, and cattle grazed. On all sides sheer walls of rock reached to the sky, thousands of meters high. Blue gums were abundant and seemed to be the dominant tree - the fresh blue growth was so prolific it made some of the valley walls blue.

The trip took a couple of hours, and as we finally approached Olly, WTC pointed out the 'capsule' hotel where you can sleep suspended over the valley (the hotel recently featured in a Simon Reeve BBC documentary).

Ollantaytambo

What a town. Turns out Olly is an actual original Incan village; people still live in cobbled streets with channels of fresh water running past each front door. The stone houses are original. The town square is original. Much of the food for sale in the cafes is original. Well not really, that would make it 5 centuries old; I mean the food references original Incan recipes (be sensible about this please). On the sheer cliffs at each end of the town, Incan terraces stretch up from the valley floor to spectacular heights.

Note the running water (for drinking, not sewerage) in the channels. On the right, the stairs to my hotel.

I could see this view from my bathroom

I struggled up three flights of stone stairs to the hotel and checked in. Fred and Wilma and the Rubbles were right next door.

It was at this point I tried to organise my trek up to Inti Punku. The trek is about 10k from the so-called 'Incan Bridge' over the river in Olly, and while that doesn't sound much, it is all uphill. In fact many parts of it involve an 85% incline; that's virtually climbing a ladder. I asked the receptionist whether I'd be able to hire a mule and muleter to take me at least part of the way up. She contacted the hotel owner, who materialised a few minutes later and said he would see what he could arrange. I filled water containers and bought some food, and when I returned to the hotel was told that a mule would not be possible.

So I packed my backpack and determined that I'd try walking up anyway. When the receptionist saw that I meant business, she called the owner again and he tried to talk me out of doing it on my own. But this was my only chance to camp overnight and see either the sunset or sunrise (my quest). I figured I could at least give it a try, and I'd probably meet others on the way. The owner called back 5 minutes later and said he could arrange for me to be dropped off at an alternative start to the trek, which would carve a good hour off the trekking time, so I took up the offer.

One crazy tuk tuk ride over cobbled stones later, I was dropped off at the start of the alternate route. The driver pointed to a sign indicating the track, mumbled instructions in Spanish, then took off. I was on my own in the wilderness.

The initial climb

It was now 12.00pm, and I figured I'd have 5 hours to get to the Sun Gate. A cinch.

The first kilometre was deceptively gentle. Loaded with a pack, 2 litres of water, a tent and a lye-low, I still had to take it gently. Even at this lower altitude, I needed to stop and catch my breath every 50 to 100 paces. Altitude exertion is an immediate thing. It exhausts you suddenly, but you recover suddenly too.

Somewhere behind those clouds was Mt Veronica

The path initially wound around several farms, and I noticed some herdswomen in bowler hats rounding up cows. I was slightly disheartened by the clouds swirling around the higher peaks, but I figured it was all changeable, and it could even add drama to my pics later. Step by step I began making progress, but it was slow. As the path became steeper, the rests became more frequent. There was no one else in sight now.

It was very hard work. At about 2.00pm, the path became considerably steeper. I couldn't see the Sun Gate above me yet, but I could see some Incan ruins about 50 meters ahead - crumbled forgotten buildings in amongst the weeds and rocks. Just before the ruins, however, the track petered out. For the most part the way had been pretty obvious, but as I reached the ruins it deteriorated into a bewildering intersection of cattle trails. What to do.

I ate some of my food and had a drink. As I did, the mists cleared a bit way up above me and I figured I could make out the ridge where the Sun Gate was located, even though I still couldn't see the gate itself yet. So I headed off to the right, in the direction of the ridge, thinking I'd have to pick up the path again somewhere in that direction.

I was getting quite high now, you can see the valley where I started way down there.

Off the beaten path

It was a decision that almost compromised the whole trek. The track I was following turned first into a sheep trail, then petered out altogether. It also led me to a very dangerous looking chasm in the hillside. Determined that this was still the correct way, I scrambled down to the base of the chasm then started the steep climb on the other side. When I reached better ground, I began thinking I must be half way up at least, so maybe I should set up camp for the night just in case. So I found a flat patch and quickly erected my tent. It was getting windy now, so I placed a large boulder in the tent to keep it from flying away. Fortunately, I kept my lye-low and sleeping bag with me; I figured at a push I could camp without a tent if I couldn't get back down in time.

It was now about 3.00pm. Still plenty of time, I thought. I fixed my eye on a small copse of blue gums at the top of the chasm, and figured if I made it to them, I'd be able to see the path, no matter which side of the chasm I looked.

The climb up to the trees was gruesome. It was almost vertical, through prickly bushes, and I ended up crawling on all fours through the scrub. It took every ounce of strength and tenacity to keep going, as altitude was kicking in. My legs collapsed under me a couple of times. I didn't feel in danger, as I figured I could always slide down the hill to the campsite I'd set up at the base. After a massive 30 minute effort, the gum trees were about 10 meters away. But then another ugly discovery. There was another chasm between me and them, invisible from down below. I was panting and shaking now with the effort. What to do.

The final struggle

I rolled over and rested, looking down toward my tent now a couple of hundred meters below. Should I give up and go back to the tent? That would now mean missing the Sun Gate at sunset, as it was now getting on for 4.00 pm, and I certainly didn't have the strength to climb that distance again, even if I found the path. Or should I just keep going up? I decided on the latter and tried to climb further a couple of times, but my legs gave out. I was stuck.

I was seriously high by this stage and altitude was getting to me

Almost broken I waited for a few moments, then looked up again. Way above me, a good 500m up, the mist had cleared and I got my first sight of the Sun Gate. There it was, my holy grail, up there at the top of the ridge, standing sentinel over the entire valley. I drank some water and ate a chocolate bar, and I mustered the energy to navigate the second chasm. It wasn't as bad or as dangerous as I thought it might be, there were sheep tracks across its sheer sides, so I followed them. A slip would've been catastrophic, but I ended up getting over it and onto the other side. I was now on the opposite side to my tent, but finally level with the gum trees.

And then the second miracle happened. The clouds cleared completely, and there was Mount Veronica towering over me, glowing in the late afternoon light. She was so clear I could see the glaciers on her. It felt like a sign.

I found the energy to keep climbing. There was no vegetation on this side of the chasm, so scrambling up the hillside was a little easier. Then two more things happened. I had a brainwave to try Google Maps and see if it had the path on it. It did! And according to the map I was only several meters downhill from it. I could also now make out a camping area in the distance, about 100m away; there were people camped there and I could see them - they had come out of their tents to gaze at Mount Veronica in the sunlight.

Google Maps told me I was only 9 minutes from the Sun Gate. But just as I got close to the path I was suddenly wracked with pain. My right leg locked into a cramp. I couldn't unlock it and it spread quickly right up to my pelvis. Excruciating; I slid down to a flatter patch and lay back in the grass, wondering if it would pass or how to get help if it didn't. I looked over to Mount Veronica and thought 'Yr a hard woman, Veronica'.

Suddenly a fellow hiker, the first person I had seen on the whole trek other than the campers in the distance, strode past a few meters above my head, clearly on the path that had eluded me for so long. Are you ok? he asked. I told him I had a cramp. He kept on striding and said, well you've only got to get to the camp over there and people will help you. Then he added 'It's a shame though, you're nearly there'.

The sun was now rapidly slipping down towards the horizon. I figured it was going to be heartbreaking, but I'd better call it quits and crawl over to the campsite. Then I tried standing. I could do it. I tried a few steps. I could do them. I stood vertical for a moment or two. The pain subsided. I gambled that the cramp had gone and I could give Inti Punku one last shot.

It took me another half hour to get to the top. I had seeds under my fingernails, blood blisters under the nails of each of my big toes. My arms and legs were scratched and bleeding from the prickly bushes I had crawled through. My right leg still ached and twinged from the cramp. I limped along quietly, now at very high altitude, cold, drenched in my own sweat and stopping every 50 paces to get my breath. I worried that the cramps would return but they didn't. Even at the final 10 meters, at a sign saying I was entering sacred ground, I struggled to keep going.

But I did. I rounded the final corner, and there it was, in the setting sun, facing Mount Veronica in the evening light, as it has done for 5 centuries. The Sun Gate.