Machu Picchu can be an expensive pre-booked affair that
leaves you feeling herded, harried and lost beneath a canopy of selfie-sticks,
but it doesn’t have to. There is a better way—a hobo way. Here is how my
friends and I went from Cusco to the top of Machu Picchu and back for about a
$100 USD…beer not included.
We woke up at 4:30am on what might have been a Tuesday. Our
hostel was situated in the upper corner of San Francisco Plaza and should have
been dead quiet but the jackass volunteers were still awake and I shit you not
listening to “Call Me Maybe” at a ludicrous volume. Already lightly packed for
Machu Picchu we inhaled a quick breakfast and jumped into a cab. The internet
had told us that the first bus was at 6am and that the ride to Santa Maria, the
initial stop on our hobo journey, would take six hours.
For 10 soles we took a taxi to the Santiago Bus Terminal—a filthy
little hole full of bleating vendors. Which is super fantastic because who
doesn’t love multidirectional shouting at five in the morning. So the fucking
internet (and yes I get the irony) lied. The first bus wasn’t until 7:30 am. We
found a nearby hotel selling terrible coffee and a street stall selling
palatable egg sandwiches and killed time (plus all the critters good and bad in
our stomachs) for about 3 soles.
We had to leave as early as possible because our plan
included a big bus, a little car and a two hour hike along the train tracks to
our final destination of Machupicchu Pueblo (also known as Aguas Calientes.)
For the first leg we chose the Ben Hur bus company because they had the
earliest posted departure time and a 20 soles price tag. Unfortunately, they
didn’t even come close to meeting that departure time. When the bus pulled out
of the station an hour late we had already eaten all of our road snacks and
were starting to worry about our timeline. So imagine our annoyance when the
bus promptly pulled into a petrol station to fuel up…
On a clear day the drive from Cusco to Santa Maria is a beautiful
winding path through the Andes. This was not a clear day. A couple of hours in
we hit a nasty fog bank that transformed those lovely roads into a horror show
of near head-on collisions and reversals away from the edge of oblivion. The
movie selection that day was Rambo: First Blood Part I. Foggy cliffs outside, a
cacophony of machine gun fire inside—rolling towards Machu Picchu in a tin-box
of death.
The skies cleared as we approached Santa Maria, but it was
already 2:30pm and we still had a long way to go. We didn’t want to risk tip-toeing
into Machupicchu Pueblo by the light of our headlamps, so we took a ride with
the first hustler that approached us. He charged us 15 soles each to get to the
Hydro Electric Station and the start of the railway path to Machupicchu Pueblo.
We probably could have bartered but didn’t have the time. Our driver handled
his beat-to-hell Subaru like tricked out rally car. He ripped across a gnarly road
that jutted from the side of a cliff like a pouty lip deftly avoiding every
pothole, stray rock and oncoming racer. With dust pluming and butts puckered we
power slid into Santa Teresa and switched to a car driven by a fifteen year old
kid with a penchant for terrible hip-hop. There was no extra charge for this
transfer; the locals were just passing us off like Pony Express parcels.
From the hydro electric station it is a two-hour (maximum)
hike along the railroad tracks to Machupicchu Pueblo. The train is a funky
retro looking thing that costs an absolutely dumb amount of money. If you have
dumb money go for it, otherwise hobo like us. A walk along the railroad tracks
probably sounds terrible but trust me the scenery is not the stuff of smoke
stacks and dusty derelicts you are probably imagining. It is a beautiful jungle
canopy with expansive river and mountain views—a serene and impressive path
that just happens to have a train running through it.
It was past sunset and growing dark when we arrived. From a
distance Machupicchu Pueblo is a fairytale like village nestled into a jungle
valley, but as you approach its exploitative purposes become clear. Prepare to
get hit by a tidal wave of ponchos and stuffed llamas. You can purchase Machu Picchu
entrance tickets at the official agency near Plaza de Armas. They are open
until 7pm if not later. Or you can purchase tickets ahead of time in Cusco
if you’re into that sort of thing. There are several options, all of which
are expensive. We opted for: Machu Picchu + Machu Picchu Mountain = 142 soles.
We had wanted to do Machu Wayna Picchu as well but it was booked for the next
three months!
All the cheap stuff is across the bridge from Plaza de Armas
and there are more hostels than there are tourists to fill them so don’t worry
about booking ahead of time. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. We
found a decent joint for 25 soles per night and went out looking for dinner.
The food in Machupicchu Pueblo varies from reasonable to wildly overpriced. One
thing to be wary of: some restaurants will charge a “Local Tax” or “Service
Tax.” This is total bullshit and you don’t have to pay it. Ask ahead of time
and if they sneak it in refuse. Also, don’t order Mexican food. TA-RUST ME.
Machu
Picchu opens at 6:30am and the mountain opens at 7am. The “hike” up takes an
hour (or less) depending on your fitness level. We got up before dawn and found
a buffet restaurant for 15 soles. After packing in mucho calories we made
sandwiches and snuck them into our bags for later. Hobo style!
Here
is a true thing: people are lazy. As we headed toward the trail we saw no less
than five hundred people lined-up to take the carousel ride of buses to the
top; people decked out in full-on hiking gear, headbands, walking sticks, the
works. Take the freaking stairs you over-geared sloths! Seriously, if you call
yourself a backpacker and take the bus, I will pull your card.
When
I say “we” I mean, myself, Rhys, Tim and Josh. The boys and I had been
traveling together for more than a month and on several occasions had said, “No
matter what we have to stay together until Machu Picchu.” Sadly, we took
“until” quite literally and got split up ten minutes after entering the park.
Josh and I turned right toward Machu Picchu Mountain, Tim and Rhys wandered
past toward the Sun Gate and we didn’t see each other again until near sunset
at the hostel. PRESET A MEETING PLACE AND TIME. It is easy to get separated in
the crowds and near impossible to reunite.
Machu
Picchu Mountain was quite possibly the highlight of my day. The hike up is
strenuous and there is no bus. Josh and I were the first ones to the top and for
a few glorious minutes we had the mountain to ourselves. The views are amazing.
You have a 360 degree panorama of the cloud shrouded valley and from that
height it becomes clear just how well the mountains hide the ancient city. That
spectacular vantage point will erase any doubts you had about how Machu Picchu
remained unconquered.
You
can’t wander around Machu Picchu. There is a one-way path and whistle blowing
guards to enforce it. This was a bit of a disappointment as we had imagined
exploring the ruins with the sporadic joy of hide-and-seek. Still, the city
does not disappoint. You will have a hard time choosing between actual pictures
and the mental pictures you badly want to burn into permanence. Bring a book,
music, whatever helps you chill. Pack a picnic. There are several grassy rest
areas that overlook the ruins and you will have ample time to sit back and
absorb Machu Picchu and the fact that you’re seeing it with your own eyes.
Something
to consider: the vast majority of people try to enter the park first thing in
the morning, but it is open until 6pm and by early afternoon the crowds dwindle
down to a few wanders. You may have to battle the midday sun, but a quiet afternoon
without the crowds should more than justify the sweat sheen.
And
this is how budgets go BOOM! Reunited we found a second story pizza place that
overlooked the local soccer pitch. We ordered small beers (or thought we did)
and the staff brought out 1-liter behemoths. As local dudes booted a neon ball
to-and-fro we spiraled down a deep dark hole—4:30am and a forgotten jacket deep—rookies
on “vacation” deep.
Rhys
had broken his budget to buy the forgotten jacket, and only days before, so
leaving it behind wasn’t an option. The club wasn’t due to open until 8pm and
apparently only the police had the owner’s phone number, so we found ourselves trying
to explain to the chief of the Machupicchu Pueblo police that we needed to
recover a jacket, not because of a crime, but because we were idiots. The chief
sent a pair of adorable lady cops to help us sort out the situation. I am not
being sexist; they were honestly adorable and really nice. So anyway, after
shouting up at the club owner’s apartment and getting zero help from his twelve
year old neighbor, they suggested that we throw rocks at the window. No! No
way! The lady cops shrugged off our vehement refusal and daintily tossed
pebbles until the red-eyed owner emerged. He was none too pleased but Rhys had
his jacket and we were on our way.
The
adventure was over and all that remained was the chore of getting back. If like
us you find yourself at less than 100%, I suggest you crank up a classic rock
playlist, tuck your phone into the waistband of your pants with the speaker
facing out and Carry on my Wayward Son.
We
reached the Hydro Electric Station at around 1pm where dozens of cars and
minivans were waiting to ferry away weary travelers. We could have backtracked
the way we came but a minivan was only 40 soles (5 soles more than we would
have paid for the taxi/big bus combo) and so away we went. Six hours passed on
bumpy roads and the driver left us at door of our hostel; food was a priority, then
a shower and finally sweet sleep—the memories could wait until tomorrow.
A
quick review for you planner types:
Taxi to Santiago Station – 10 soles
Bus to Santa Maria – 20 soles
Taxi to the Hydro Electric Station –
15 soles
Entrance to Machu Picchu and Machu
Picchu Mountain – 142 soles
Hostel – 50 soles for two nights
Hydro Electric Station to Cusco – 40
soles
Meals – 60 soles (15 soles each,
with cheaper eats available in the central market)
Beer – I’ll never tell
Total: 337 soles (or $99.25 USD)
I intentionally left out the
names of hostels and restaurants because they didn’t merit mentioning, but if
you have any specific questions about food, lodging, etc, I would be more than
happy to help. OR just show up and wing it. In my opinion that is when the best
adventures happen.
MB
