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We're two happy-go-lucky travellers (well, one super-efficient organiser and one procrastinating neurotic risk-taker) on an adventure together spanning 7 months and most of the mainland countries in the Americas. Follow us from January until August 2012 for tips on marital bliss (peace? cessation of hostilities, perhaps?) and how a vegetarian tea-totaller and an inebriated carnivore find suitable places to dine ... together.

Wednesday, 9 May 2012

Machu Picchu


Machu Picchu

   We were up at four on the final day of our Inca trail trip, our anticipation for Machu Picchu undampened despite the unrelenting rain and the 4am start.  We were treated to our (not at all) light breakfast before joining the cue of trekkers waiting for the final section of trail to open.  All the while remembering Jason in our prayers for his thoughtful and immensely practical gift of sturdy rain ponchos.

   For the first time in four days the rain and cloud were persistent, enclosing the paths and obscuring what I imagine were spectacular views.  Our day brightened when we reached the Sun Gate.  Not that it fulfilled its promise of spectacular first views of Machu Picchu.  No, the Incas would be subject to the consumer protection act if Peru had one.  Both the Sun Gate and the mountain city were in solid white cloud.  As it happened we met up with Jim, who had started the hike with us on day one, before being struck down by a diarrhoea bug on the second morning and being consigned to a nauseating horseback return and three days convalescing in Ollantaytambo.


   Once again a whole group, we proceeded down the trail, the occasional teasing glimpse of Inca architecture enticing us through the cloud.  We arrived in Machu Pichu with the cloud lifting.  Only a little bit but enough to give an atmospheric overview of the site as it began to fill with the day-trippers.  Our guides led us to the prime look-out spot with the postcard views for our photos and we duly obliged, snapping away happily.


   Kiz and I had discussed our photographic differences on numerous occasions throughout the trip.  Kizzy likes to have the photos but finds the process distressing.  In her mind, insisting on “just one more” qualifies as harassment.  Somewhere between the third and fourth photo of the day her co-operation deteriorates and it’s all gone by the fifth. 


I on the other hand, like photos.  I like taking them and I like to be in them.  It is a legacy of the Wendy Gardiner upbringing.  Two weeks after she switched from 35mm film to digital, the local photo shop closed down.  She didn’t just take a lot of photos of us growing up, she was pretty bloody particular about them too.  We used to have Japanese exchange students at our school and after two weeks at our place mum would have them smiling in photos.  This was a big deal.  I was subjected to 20 years of psychological conditioning to co-operate with the person with the camera. 

I only mention all of this to give some context.  To explain why when Jim pointed the camera at Kizzy and me to take the classic Machu Picchu shot and said “take a step to the right”, I did so without hesitation.  And promptly stepped straight off the side of the lookout ledge. 

I dropped like a stone, straight out of shot.  Bloody Jim got such a scare he didn’t even take the photo.  He didn’t grow up with Wendy Gardiner.










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