Inca Jungle Trek...sometime around March 28th...

On the morning of the 28^th, we stumbled down the hill in our happy pants (see photo) and boarded our bus for the first leg of our Jungle Trek. Here is where we encountered our fearless leader Edgar and our soon to be 4 new friends. The first of the four days consisted of a 4 hour van trip to the top of a gravel road high in the mountains. There we encountered our first questionable meal of “food”. There were two sandwiches, one of mystery meat, the other of mystery cheese. Not sure how well that went over with the Veggies in the group. It also included a “granola” bar made of quinoa that tasted of stale liquorice (if that's even possible), a solid piece of fruit and a juice box.

Afterwards, the rain chilled out a bit and we got suited up for our downhill adventure. With gloves, helmets, ponchos and riding faces on our group of 8 plus Edgar got rolling. After about three hills and four curves in the road, I decided that mountain biking might not be my forte. All the others in the group were so far ahead that I had to talk to myself aloud just to to get through the tiny streams and over the rocks in the windy mountain road. After about twenty minutes fearless little Edgar rode alongside to ask if I was ok...I spent the rest of the afternoon riding shotgun with Nacho in the silver van with my bike securely strapped on top. And no, Byron didn't dump me afterwards.

Our first night was spent in a town called Santa Maria. After the real troopers took their cold showers and hung their clothes in a fruitless attempt to dry them, Byron, Bianca, Phil and Edgar took off to the local concrete soccer pitch to play with some locals while I cheered them on and reapplied my bug spray. Then we all sat and watched as the Santa Maria team played a local visiting town. Wives cheered from the passenger seats of parked vans and children supported their fathers as the locals played their hearts out. Our dinner was served exactly at 7 at one of the two local restaurants. The meal included soup, bread, rice, meat, papas fritas and tea. They love their carbs here in Peru.

The next two days we hiked and trekked the Inca trail. It wasn't the famous part that you hear about, but was pretty amazing nonetheless. We walked every type of trail imaginable. We were on roads, paths, perilous steps, railroad tracks, mudslided regions, jungles, deserts; we crossed streams, jumped across rocks, painted our faces, picked avocados, ate avocados, learned some Inca history, danced to 80's discoteca music, befriended local toddlers, acquired enough mosquito bites to cover our entire legs, bathed in hot springs, ate delightful meals (of soup, bread, rice, meat, papas fritas and tea) and sung cheesy songs. Every night we encountered another city propped up on Inca tourism and stayed in the absolutely worst hostels Edgar could find, but I guess that's what we paid for. Thanks again man!

What may have been lacking in the cuisine and hostels clearly did not dissuade our overall sentiments towards the trek. Turn after turn we were constantly in awe of our surroundings. Of course, turn after turn revealed huge inclines, perilous drops and even hills effected by mudslides. We stopped every half hour or so to collect everyone, drink some water and talk about the history of the trail and the Incas. We found out that the Inca messengers would haul ass across the trail with wreckless abandon. We couldn't fathom that they wouldn't want to cling onto some sort of safety rope (like the ones they actually used for communication). It's sad the Spanish thought is completely necessary to wipe out everything about the civilization. At least they didn't get all the wonderful trails, bridges and handful of shrines.

Finally on the last night before we got to climb up to Machu Picchu we stayed in the city of Aguas Calientes. Our group was split in two because not one shitty hostel had enough room for all of us. Edgar liked the four of us the best so after dropping off the first four behind a sheet of construction plastic/tarp, he led us to the top of the hill to our personal oasis. This hostel was brand spanking new ad not quite open to the public. By not quite, I mean Bianca and Phil had to wait in the public area while their bed was assembled. The view, hot showers, free towel service, comfy beds, gigantic key-chain (no one was going to be able to walk out with the key since a baby doll was attached to it) and in-room televison (complete with three whole channels of crap) made the trek up the hill all the more worth it.

We met up with the other half of the group for dinner and made it seem that our hostel was just as second-rate as the previous ones had been. We could tell that 'Hostel John' was a piece, while our hostel was much more like a 3 star hotel. All of us were sick of the 'menu turisico' that we always got (soup, bread, rice, meat, papas fritas and tea) and we staged a mutiny to refuse the madness. We were at a pizza place and we weren't going to eat anymore of that food they passed off to tourists. We dined on pizzas of all types. We ordered as many pizzas as our hearts desired, drank coke and began to get excited about Machu Picchu. Sadly, in my anticipation of another horrid meal, my tummy gave out on me and I spent the rest of the evening frequenting many of Aquas Calientes' finest restrooms.

The plan for the next day involved us getting up at 4 am to hike the hour and one half to the entrance of Machu Picchu. Bianca, Phil, Byron and I decided to trek up like true troopers, while the rest of the group took the cheater bus. I was propelled up the hill by Byron and by my numerous gas emissions. Having not been able to keep any food in my system, this 1.5 hike up steep Inca rocks might have been the toughest of my life. However, we made it to the top promptly at 6:00am for the smoggy sunrise.