At the crack of dawn (truthfully, about ten minutes before), we began our trek to Machu Picchu. The tour company that is leading our hike picked up all the hikers from their respective hotels, and then we began the short drive towards the Salkantay Trail.
Our guide, Ernesto, lectured us on the importance of SPF and bug spray, and then led us up the first stretch. Welcome to Salkantay Trail, he said. Day 1, your vacation in the Salkantay Mountains. Your restful break.
Vacation? Sure, it was beautiful (mountains are novel to us Chicagoans), but hauling it up steep paths while short of breath for hours at time is not exactly what we middle aged ladies would call restful. By the time we reached camp, I had such a pounding headache and nausea that a very public display of vomiting ensued. For you Grey's Anatomy fans, in medical terms: acute mountain sickness, or altitude sickness. After a multitude of weird homeopathic remedies from Ernesto's mysterious first aid kit, I fell into a deep sleep until morning. Christina, however, was conscious enough to be aware of the sub-freezing temperatures.
With the promise of Day 2, the "hard day" looming, it was a long night for everyone.
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