Unlike any other Wonder of the World, literally if you are traveling for longer than a month and are on the South American continent, you will inevitably visit Machu Picchu. For this reason, I will save on the description of the actual visit itself, as hundreds if not thousands of actual employed and professional writers and historians can described this previous lost civilization/city of the Incas, much better than I. Instead I will share with you the trip, itself, to the lost city.

Throughout Cuzco/Cusco, more traditionally spelled Qusqo, there are touts and agencies selling excursions to Machu Picchu, the most popular of which is “The Inca Trail,” a four day hike that follows the actual footsteps of the Incas from centuries ago. As the Wonder and hike has become more popular, the cost has steadily increased and the impact to the environment has as well, resulting with limited number of permits being issued each day and season, to the point that one must book the Inca Trail hike six weeks to three months in advance. As, I couldn’t be bothered planning that far ahead, I spent my first couple days in Cusco interviewing the fellow lemmings, on alternative hikes and ways to visit Machu Picchu, as you can not physically bus it all the way. The alternatives range from a train from Cusco all the way to Aguas Calientes, the city located at the base of the hill, to a list of other three, four or five day hikes, such as the Lars or Salkantay. Instead, I chose one of the newer more popular trails, known as the Inca Jungle, a four day excursion, where on day one, you mountain bike for apx 40 kms, on day two there is a 20 km hike followed by a visit to a thermal pool, day three another 20 km hike to Agua Calientes, and day four an early morning hike to witness the sunrise at Machu Picchu.

My adventure started early Monday morning, when I hit the town and went to a handful of travel agencies to interview agents, inspect the bike, and to negotiate the cost. Eventually, I chose an agency near the Plaza de Armas, primary based on their bike, on display. The tour was booked and my adventure was set to begin at 8 am, the next morning with the agency picking me up at the hostel.

Three thirty am the next morning, I was shaken awake by the night manager of the hostel, telling me that I had fifteen minutes before my agency was picking me up for the trek. In a daze, and a bit confused I got dressed and left the room to figure out what was going on. Apparently my travel agency stopped by in the evening, to move up the pick up time, as a strike was being organized by bus drivers for Wednesday, and the farmers decided to piggy-back the farmer´s efforts by having their own strike and road blockades starting early Tuesday morning. Promptly, at 4:42 am, my travel agency sent a representative to pick me up, and walk to the pick up point. Sometime after 5:30 am, we started out of Cusco, ready to begin our trek. After less than an hour on the road, we quickly realized that we did not start early enough to avoid the roadblocks, as now our bus driver veered off the paved road turning our mini-bus into an all-terrain vehicle. Still in a daze from the early wake up call, I was rocked back to sleep by our lack of proper shocks and suspension for a trip such as this. When I woke, the scene was surreal, almost as if it was an image from a movie. Our bus had jumped back on a paved section of road, ascending up a hill, a thick cloud/fog layer was quickly moving through, when our bus came to an abrupt stop. Everyone in the bus, including the driver and guide blankly starred at the front trying to make out the image/scene a couple hundred feet in front of our vehicle. As the fog started to move past, we saw the silhouette of a group of men blocking the road, what made it eerie, was the fact that they each held fire lit torches in their hands, clearly lit from the trash can fires that they started at the side of the road. Each of us, starred at the mob in front, and quickly came to the same conclusion: let’s get the heck out of here. The bus driver quickly turned around, and hopped back off the road. At 7:30 am, we ended up in a small town (Urubamba) 10 km from Ollantaytambo, located approximately 50 km from Cusco. Our guide and driver got info that roads were blocked ahead but expected to clear around noon, so they decided that we would take this opportunity for a breakfast break. After grabbing a quick bite, our guide grabbed me and Jack, from Seattle, and asked us to quickly return back to the bus, as there was a break in the blockade and we could continue to move forward, and he would search the town for the rest of our group. When we walked back to our bus, not only was road directly in front of the bus blocked, but there were now multiple blockades located behind our bus, one of which created from tree trunks the size of a small car. At this point we really couldn’t help but laugh as we walked and climbed through the various blockades, and as the strikers smiled and waved at the gringos. Upon returning to the bus, our driver told us that he had it from a good source that the strike would end and clear in a few hours, and until then we would just wait it out. Slowly seven of our group of eleven started to return to the bus, as we sat in the middle of the street playing kick the bottle with the locale kids. Entertained by this, one of the strikers even retrieved a futbol/soccer ball for us to play with the kids. As we waited, we noticed that the locales started to add additional debris to the blockades and new ones were constantly being created, it was almost as if it was a sand castle building contest, one person started to build one, than someone would help and add to it, before they decided that they wanted to branch out and start their own. Proud of their creation, they would tell others to see the fruits of their labor, which would result in additional creations popping up and down the street.

Just before noon, we again questioned our driver, as there was clearly no evidence that the strike would cease, and if anything it would take hours for the road to be cleared ahead. At this point, the guide along with the four remaining people from our group had yet to return from the town, so the driver said we needed to wait for everyone to return. Not sure what this had to do with questioning the status of the road, we began to question the source of his information, as it was clearly evident to anyone that the blockades were getting bigger and not smaller. A bit irritated at our questioning he said, he just heard that it would be a couple more hours, and that we needed the guide to return before anything could actually happen.

The group of us than, assessed the situation and deliberated on some alternatives: one to sit and waste the day away; two, to take our gear and hike ahead, for the bigger town ahead; and three, my proposed alternative to take the bikes off the roof and ride back to Cusco. To confirm what we already suspected, I asked the striking farmers, if there was any chance that the blockades would cease anytime soon, to which they laughed with amusement, as they motioned me to look at the fruits of their labor, a blockade with parts of a horse corral, rocks, boulders, branches, cactus, barb wire and topped off with a flag of Peru. He responded that the strike and blockade would continue until at least Thursday. Upon hearing this, I told the group that I was planning to get the bikes off and head back for Cusco before it got too late, and wanted to see who was staying or going. In the group there were three volunteer teachers from the States, whom seemed to have a love-hate relationship with one and other, and choose to stay behind. The four Spaniards along with the guide were still missing, and haven’t been seen since we first parked on the side of the road, more than four hours before. The remaining four: Jack and I, along with a couple of English mates, James and John, decided we wanted to try the ride, after all we had signed up for the trek with mountain biking, this would just be in the opposite direction.

The problem, was the bus driver wouldn’t play along. As I approached with our proposal, the bus driver wanted nothing to do with us, other than responding that he could not release the bikes to us, that he was a contract driver, and any instructions had to come from his boss the agencies or the guide. As, he wouldn’t call the agencies or locate the guide, I pulled him aside and calmly explained to him, that as they are all absent, and we each paid good money for this trip, which in turn is paying his salary, he now did have a new boss, us/me. Not impressed by this, self-appointment, it did however spark him to finally get out of the bus to search for the guide and agree to call the agency. As we walked back towards town, we finally found the guide, where I approached him with our proposal, and since our group of eleven was a consolidated group from four different travel agencies, he agreed to call the agency representing the four of us. Eventually, after some convincing we were able to get our respective agencies to release the bikes to us, and agree to meet with us upon our return to discuss a refund or rescheduling of the trip.

As we pedalled back through town, we laughed, at all the new road blocks created within the last couple hours, it had seriously become a family bonding activity as we saw kids and grandmothers alike adding to the existing blockades. Than, all the smiles and laughter stopped when we reached the base of the hill, and looked up at the switch-backed road, snaking up into the sky. After, all the work it took to get the bikes off the rack, there was no turning back, so we pedaled forward, and we pedaled, pedaled, pedaled, and pedaled some more. An hour and half later, we finally reached a plateau, and celebrated our achievement, 10 km up the hill, but still miles away from home. At this point, John was struggling a bit, and we decided to set up a gringo blockade with our bikes, whenever we saw a bus, in hopes that they would give us a lift back into town. After two failed attempts, where they didn´t have enough room to accommodate our bikes, a soda pop delivery truck stopped, and gave us a wave signalling us to hop on into the back. The four of us celebrated in excitement when we finally piled into the back and the truck started towards Cusco, but than suddenly the truck slammed on it’s brake and the guy hopped out, and jumped on the side to talk to us. We immediately thought he changed his mind, and was asking us to get out. Instead, he just wanted to tell us, to please not drink the soda.

The truck driver dropped us off at the top of the hill overlooking Cusco, and the four of us flew down the hill with smiles from ear to ear. What started as an early wake up call, and a day full of uncertainty, was now filled with adventure, excitement, unforgettable, and we still got our bike ride in.

When we arrived back into the heart of Cusco, we immediately returned to our agencies by the Plaza de Armas, and agreed to reschedule our trip together for Thursday. Jack and I had little trouble with our agent, as he admitted there was little alternative, and the others who had stayed behind would just have to find a locale hostel and wait the road blockades out. Whereas, James and John’s agent was not as honest, and tried to explain that the remaining group would clear the blockades and make up the lost time by the morning and be atop Machu Picchu by Friday, as scheduled.

Thursday morning, the four of us, joined a new group of eight, with a new guide and driver that was well aware of our past attempt at visiting this wonder. The guide was careful to take extra care of the four of us with detailed information and to check that we were having a good time. The first three days, went without a hitch. Day one, mountain biking down paved and dirt roads, ending in Santa Maria. Day two, hiking through various terrain, and finishing the evening in Santa Teresa. Day three, a visit to a freezing waterfall, followed by a few hour walk along a road and along side an abandoned railroad track, finally arriving in Aguas Calientes (2100m), and got our first glimpse of Machu Picchu from a lookout point on the top of an adjacent hill, elevation 2600m.

Than on day four, we woke up at 4:00 am, and started our ascent just before 5 am. About an hour later, we reached the entrance, another half hour later, under the cloud filled sky, we wondered if we would get to see the sunrise, the famed and unforgettable first rays of the morning light splashing across the terraces of this once lost city, but it was just not meant to be, like many a sunrise on this trip. As we all stood there, like kids thirsting for information and history about this monumental place, the guide decided that this would be the perfect time and place to deliver the unpredictable news, that some of us were without train tickets, back to Cusco, this evening. And your´s truly was one of them.

Jack and I, had tickets, but they were for tomorrow. And even worse, James and John, were without any tickets, and their alternative to return back was to go back with the guide who was heading back down the hill in less than a couple hours. Not impressed by this news, the mood almost immediately changed from spiritual to hostile. I than took the guide aside, and told him, that I am in a very special place, and would not let him or this news ruin that for me or us, but when I returned back to Cusco, there would be some explaining to do, so be prepared. The rest of the morning till mid-day, I walked throughout Machu Picchu (2400m) and climbed the highest peak of Wayna Picchu (2700m).

When we returned back down the hill, the guide was long gone, and I went to retrieve my train ticket in an attempt to switch it at the train station, but unfortunately they were booked. As I got my ticket, I asked the agent to review the tickets of everybody else in my group, and saw that they indeed have tickets for tonight, and surmised that the reason my agent bought us tickets for the next morning, was because it was cheaper, and he wanted to recoup some money, considering his small cost expended from our cancelled trip. Jack, decided that he, along with James and John would hike back along the railroad track back to the hydro-plant, where they would hire a taxi to take them back to Cusco. Knowing that this would take at least four or five hours, I passed and elected to have someone ring up my agency, and demanded them to put me up in a hotel for the night, and pay for my dinner, which they unhappily did.

The next day, I returned back to Cusco and immediately stopped by the agency, for the showdown. At first, the gal told me that the owner was not present and to return in half an hour. When I returned, she said I just missed him, and that he would not return until the evening. I explained as he completely changed my schedule, I would just sit and wait, as now I had all day, and tell all the gringos about my troubles. This of course got her, to ring up the owner, who than changed his plans and came to the agency, immediately. After a half hour of shouting and debate, I told him, all I really wanted him to do was to apologize and admit that he made a mistake. After another fifteen minutes, he would still not admit that he did it to save a buck, but he did finally apologize, and offered to give me a nominal rebate.

In the end, my four day trip to my last Wonder, was a seven day adventure that will surely last me a lifetime of memories.