Brittany McGee

Editor’s Note: This is the fourth of four blog posts chronicling my adventure on the Inca Trail. Find DAY 1 here, DAY 2 here, and DAY 3 here.

In the blink of an eye, it was the fourth and final day of our trek. There had been times earlier on the trail in which I felt we’d never actually make it to Machu Picchu, but here we were.

We woke up unpleasantly early, got ready, and walked down to the bottom of the camping grounds where there was a check point. No one could pass that point until 5:30AM. So, we waited. And waited. And waited some more. Until finally, the hour was upon us.

Up until the last day of the trek, the weather had cooperated with us; we experienced mostly sunshine, a few clouds and very little rain. Rather unusual for the rainy season. But, as we navigated the side of the mountain on DAY 4, the weather was not in our favor. For the first time we donned our ponchos. I didn’t so much mind the rain; rain can be good for the soul.

When we made it to the Sun Gate, formerly the official front entrance to the old city, we took a breather to soak in our first views of Machu Picchu. The clouds danced around the ruins, obstructing the view while making it a bit more mystical.

I took my time walking downhill; others rushed by me, eager to get to the ruins. I was in no hurry; I wanted to savor these last few moments – the rain pattering against my face, the chill of the air I breathed, and the tranquility of being in the middle of mountains. I arrived and found my group; most of whom had already started taking pictures. In the midst of all the photo sessions, and with the city of Machu Picchu behind them, one guy in our tour group dropped to a knee and proposed to his girlfriend of four-years. Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I choked back tears; though I felt one or two sliding down my face.

Afterwards, our guides led us to the front entrance, where we ate our brown-bag snacks, stowed our day packs, and freshened up a bit. We then set off to explore the archaeological site. The guides gave us a quick tour before leaving 6 of us at Waynapicchu.

We had bought our tickets to summit Waynapicchu months prior when we paid the deposit for our trip. I had heard that it was steep and moderately challenging, but ultimately worth it. After three days of hiking, climbing Waynapicchu seemed like something only a person with a death wish would do. But, we did it. And I cursed the entire way (who knew I could swear like a sailor?). Fortunately, by the time we reached the top, the weather had mostly cleared up and the clouds had lifted from the ancient citadel so that we could take it all in. Exhaustion, and minor fear of heights aside, the view was incredible. Breathtaking.

Machu Picchu is considered one of the seven wonders of the world, and for good reason. But, if I’m being completely honest, I found Machu Picchu to be much more enchanting the first time I visited last March. This time, upon arriving, I was more excited about finishing the trek than being in such a historical place; which is odd for me because I love history and old architecture.

The first time I was at Machu Picchu, I fell in love with the stories our guide told as we meandered through the site. We stopped at religious temples, places where they had made human sacrifices, and I had been able to envision what life must’ve been like. I was in awe of the buildings, how the stones just lay on top of each other. I marveled at the terraces, created not only for farming, but to support the city structure so that it didn’t all slide down the mountain. The weather had been better, the tour guide had been more animated and better versed on all things Inca, and we had spent more time walking around the park.

I immediately felt disappointed that I wasn’t as captivated with the rock structures this time around. It took some talking out to realize that was okay; this trip had been more about the journey, than the destination—which is so often true in our lives.