I woke up this morning with a slight headache, like I was a little hungover. The altitude was definitely noticeable.

There was a moment in the middle of the night where I woke up, breathing shallow before gasping for air when my body realised I needed more oxygen. I wasn't overly concerned, I felt fine. I just needed to breath a little deeper to oxygenate and soon fell back asleep.

We were down for breakfast at 6:45am, another early start to the day. There wasn't much choice but we enjoyed everything they had to offer. Julie made a smoky sausage and bacon butty with the local Pan Cusqueño. I gravitated towards the savoury pancakes. There was also something called Galleta de Chuño, a potato biscuit, which was almost like a Farley's Rusk.

After breakfast we gathered in the foyer where Ali Jei got the finger contraption out and tested our oxygen levels. We were all fine, albeit with a little lower readings than yesterday, which was interesting. 

Garry admitted to also having a moment in the night where he felt the effect of the altitude with a shortening of breath.

The good news was our destination this evening, (Aguas Calientes or now officially known as Machu Picchu Pueblo) was considerably lower, more than a third, at only 2040 metres above sea level.

Whilst Ali Jei talked about today's itinerary I noticed how she pronounced Machu Picchu. We were surprised to learn the correct way was Ma'Choo Pik'Choo.

She even said that the mispronounced pi'choo is often used as slang for a small penis, or at least that's what I think she meant when she held up her hand and wiggled her little finger.   

At 8am we set off, leaving our luggage behind at Hotel Ruinas, taking only our small rucksacks with us for the one night.

We were travelling in a comfortable 8-seater van along route 28C which took us out of the city, climbing gradually up the side of the hill to the North. Every now and then we caught a glimpse of the sprawling city below, a sea of red clay rooftops.

Minutes later we pulled into a car park to visit our first attraction of the day, Cristo Blanco, a white statue of Jesus Christ with his arms outstretched, a pose with an uncanny resemblance to Christ the Redeemer. Although at 8 metres in height it's considerably smaller than its Rio counterpart.

Ali Jei explained the story of how a community of Palestinians settled in Cusco following the Second World War. They felt so welcomed by the Cusqueñan people that they repaid them by commissioning this statue.

Local artist and sculptor Francisco Olazo Allende completed the statue in 1945. Despite looking like a marble statue it's made from clay plaster over a wooden and wire frame.

Cristo Blanco stands at the top of Pukamoqo hill looking over the city, a spectacular viewpoint. In fact we spent more time looking at the view than we did admiring the statue.

With our birds eye view over the Plaza del Armas, it was fascinating to see the many churches on the square and just beyond it, and then also the several palaces with their inner courtyards. 

Further out, in the distance we could see Estadio Inca Garcilaso de la Vega, a 45,000 seater stadium and the shared home of three Cusco football clubs, Cienciano, Deportivo Garcilaso and Cusco FC. All three play in Liga 1, Peru's top division. 

Back in the minibus we continued our journey, leaving Cusco, catching the briefest of glimpses of Saqsaywaman, a huge Inca ruin.

Minutes later we passed another archaeological site called Puka Pukara, a fort built on a hill, in a strategic position on the road from Cusco to Pisac. It reminded us a bit of home, of a ruined castle, of which Wales has plenty.

 "It's name means Red Fort" said Ali Jei. We all nodded.

She then gave us a file with information sheets about the site and another nearby called Tambomachay, "the baths of the Inca", with aqueducts, water features with artist impressions of what they could have looked like.

We didn't stop, although we could have if we wanted, but we were only 4 miles out of Cusco and felt like we should be on the move.

The landscape opened out into a wide valley. The first village we came to was called Yuncaypata. It was interesting to see the simple rural lives of its people.

One trader had set up her stall at the roadside selling her fruit, flowers and bottles of what looked like vanilla and strawberry milkshake but must have been homemade chicha de jora, the fermented corn drink.

Some 15 miles outside of Cusco we pulled over at Awana Kancha, a textile store but also a sanctuary for llamas, alpacas and other lesser known camelids like guanacos and vicunãs.

A sign at the entrance described the differences between them.

The first one we saw was a vicunã, a slender, almost deer like animal, a reddish brown in colour, mostly short haired with the exception of a clump of long white hair around the chest and under belly.

It was an elegant creature.

 "They were very rare" explained Ali Jei. Being too small to be of any use as a domestic pack animal like the llama, or having not enough wool like the alpaca, they were hunted for their meat.

Their numbers were dwindling. Fifty years ago it was believed to be only 6000 left in the wild but conservation programmes in recent years have improved the stock to around 350,000.

This fine specimen was roaming freely within the grounds of the sanctuary. When we picked up some leafy weed specifically provided to feed the animals it came down from the side of the hill to have a nibble.

We continued along the path to the enclosures, where we first came to the llamas. They were quite large sturdy animals with quite an appetite. They almost wiped us out of our grassy food supply.

It was a lot of fun as they gently tugged away at the bundle of leafy grass we offered.

Ali Jei suggested we should attempt a selfie with a llama by encouraging it with a posy of weeds placed between us. It turned out to be an epic failure but a lot of fun.

We were like children in a petting zoo.

Next up were the alpacas. There were two types, noticeably different because of their wool. The Huacaya alpaca had a thick coat of wool that also covered much of the face, looking like a teddy bear.

There was one roaming free. I'm not sure if it was an escapee or it had a free reign. I did reach out to try and pat it on its head but it was having none of it. I don't know why but the scene with Gene Wilder in bed with a Merino sheep in suspenders came to my mind.

It's been proven through DNA analysis that Alpacas are closer related to the wild vicunã, shorter and slender beneath all the wool, than the wild guanacos, which are taller and sturdy like the llamas. 

The other type of alpaca was the Suri alpaca which had long shaggy hair all over, even covering its eyes! There was one in particular that looked hilarious, sucking on a piece of wood as if it was a big fat reefer. Definitely the hippy of camelid family.

"Look at its eye lashes" said Julie "they're fabulous!" They really were adorable, some more than others.

In the last pen, going against the saying last but not least, were a few lesser attractive llamas. They were short haired, more like a camel. One seemed to have been crossed with a dalmatian, covered with dark splodges. 

Adding insult to the injury of us laughing at it, we had no herby grass to feed it. We felt sorry for it.

At the end of the sanctuary we came to a pair of ladies, possibly mother and daughter, sat on a patch of grass, busy weaving something colourful. Thankfully there were free to roam and not in a pen

Next, there was a small exhibit displaying the several steps of producing alpaca wool, it's colouring, spinning and then the weaving into something special.

A little further on there was a lady sat on the floor, again busy weaving, using a back strap loom. The tension in the thread was created by one end held in position by a post, the other attached to a strap around the waist. 

She had company. Her young daughter was in work with her today.  The toddler was quite impatient, constantly demanding her mothers attention.

As soon as we all passed by her mother's time returned to her daughter. 

We entered the shop, had a quick browse. Julie saw a headband with ear flaps that she quite liked, but we didn't buy it. We knew that we were on our way to a cooperative which also sold weaved and knitted products.

Back on the minibus we continued along the road to Pisac, passing through a few villages.

As in many places all over the world, it was interesting to see how modern clothes are creeping into society. The traditional styles are reserved to the older generation whilst the younger are more influenced by the outside world. 

A few minutes later we stopped again, this time at a mirador Taray, a viewpoint. The spot offered an incredible view of the Sacred Valley and its green fertile land irrigated by the Urubamba river.

The valley stretched from here, at Pisac, through the towns of Urubamba and Ollantaytambo, eventually reaching Machu Picchu.

From the viewpoint we also had an equally impressive view of the town of Pisac. Nestled on the banks of the river was this old colonial town but above it on the mountain side were several precipitous terraces.

I was unaware but somewhere up in the mountains there was a sizeable well preserved Inca citadel.

Some of the terraces seemed too steep to be feasible but they were there, etched into the mountain. Their purpose was to grow various crops, a technique used from well before the Incas. It was a shame we didn't have time to visit archaeological site of Pisac Q'allaqasa. (We now have our "reason to return" #2)

Ali Jei pointed out a rock formation behind us, high up on the mountain, known as Ñusta Encantada. Inca folklore say it's the petrified remains of Princess Inquill Chumpi.

Legend has it that she was the daughter of Chief Huayllapuma. She had many suitors but a "prophecy" was told only a prince, who could build a bridge over the Urubamba river, could marry her.

One day a prince from the Antisuyo kingdom, called Asto Rimaq, arrived showering gifts. One of which was a beautiful bird, called a Qoriqenqe, with a golden plumage and the ability to tell the future.

The bird said that the bridge would be built in a single night and the mountain would give up its rocks for the bridge, if they both crossed the river and princess continued alone up the hill, carrying a bag of coca leaves, kissing them as she dropped them as a sacred offering to the Apus, the spirits of the mountains.

However she was also instructed not to look back.

They agreed to do this. As princess Inquill dropped the kissed coca leaves, the ground began to shake. The tremor increased with each leaf until the mountain released its rocks. Then it stopped suddenly. In that moment she forgot her promise, and turned to look back. She saw that Asto had drowned and her grief instantly turned her to stone.

Back in the minibus we continued our journey, crossing the Urubamba river into the town of Pisac, where we pulled over at the local market, Mercado Abastos.

Ali Jei had suggested we bought some produce from the fruit & veg market to offer as a gift to the community we were visiting this afternoon. She handed us a few soles from our kitty to grab a bag full.

We spent half our soles at one stall, although there was no stall, the fruit were just laid out on the floor, as was the lady selling them. A bunch of bananas, a handful of citrus fruits, and some other fruits filled a carrier bag. It was more than enough to carry.

I asked the lady sat on the floor if I could take her photograph. "You look beautiful." I added. She smiled, a little embarrassed by the flattery. 

Back on the road we left Pisac to travel through an area known as Parque de la Papa (Potato Park) although we saw no crops. We then continued up the valley into the mountains.

Julie wasn't keen on the road. It followed the contours of the hillside with quite a drop down to the bottom. We were driving on the edge, but it was plenty wide enough, so there wasn't much to worry about.

We retold the story of our taxi ride in the Atlas mountains where the taxi driver went into the gravel edge on numerous ocassions. Now that was scary! 

At a junction we turned left, leaving the "main" road behind, and climbed further up, through the community of Amaru. Small adobe houses were dotted around the road as we continued getting higher and higher. 

Despite being a remote location there we still people walking along the side of the road, some even carrying supplies back home. The local market in Pisac was a very long way away! 

At 3800 metres above sea level, (the highest we had been so far) we pulled over. We had reached the Amaru Weaving Cooperative, formed by an initiative called Tierra de los Yachaqs, (the land of the wise), to encourage responsible tourism in the Sacred Valley.  

We stepped through a door, into a back yard, where a welcoming committee were waiting for us. They showered us with petals and shook our hands enthusiastically.  

"Allin chaskisqan kay" they said greeting us in Quechua before trying out their English with a "welcome". 

We were then invited to dress in traditional costume. They were all dressed in their finest, it would have been rude not to join them.  

For Garry and myself the costume change was quick and easy by throwing on a colourful poncho and a matching chullo hat.

For Julie and Sonya the dress was a little more involved.  First there was a richly embroidered skirt, tied around the waist, then came a small heavy shawl known as a Lliclla. It was fastened with a pin. Julie's cape however was missing a pin so she was literally sewn into it!

Then completing the fabulous look was the hat, a fringed montera that looked more like a lampshade!

At its core there was a short felt hat that sat on the head, then covered in a black cloth with a further colourful fringed cloth sewn around the edges. 

Whilst Julie was being dressed I wandered around the yard and found someone busy cooking over a charcoal fire. I was surprised to see she was cooking cuy or Guinea Pig.

Two cuyes were being spit roasted. They looked pitiful skewered from the mouth through the arse.

"They're just getting your lunch ready" I told Julie, only half joking.

With us all dressed up the presentation began. They introduced themselves. Ali Jei translated for us. The youngest was Dina, aged 20 with her adorable seven month old son Gabriel strapped to her back.

Constantina, aged 68, was the oldest of the group, even older than Garry! To be honest we were a little surprised at her age. We all thought she was another 20 years older! Her face was certainly weathered by the harsh and difficult conditions of living this high up in the Andes.

Then Delores stepped forward. She was 57 years old and to be fair didn't look a day older. There was one other, the one at the end but I can't remember her name.

But the star of the show was young Ester. She had her fingers in everything, grabbing stuff she wasn't allowed to touch. She was a law unto herself, a mini tornado, demanding attention whilst they were trying to talk to us.

Once they had introduced ourselves then it was our turn. We followed their lead, saying our name, age, and a bit about our family. I went first, then stopped when I came to the grand children otherwise Julie wouldn't have had anything to say!

Julie expanded on our grandchildren and Sylvester the dog, then it was Sonya's turn.  She told them about their children and they also have two dogs, although one of them isn't theirs but is actually their daughter's (Lucy's) and they are just looking after it until she finishes university. They all nodded politely at our stories.

With the introductions over with, another lady arrived, flustered and apologetic. She was called Maria and apparently the president of the cooperative. She apologised for her tardiness and then took control of the situation.

She began the demonstration of the natural processes used to produce the yarns that they use in their textiles.

Maria knelt down, tore a piece of wool from the hide of an alpaca. It was like a sheepskin rug but dirty and off-white.

She then dipped it into a bowl of soapy water which had been prepared with a grated root called Saqta, which created a natural detergent. Rubbing it thoroughly the wool soon emerged a brilliant white.

 Constantina then demonstrated how to use a drop-spindle to pull the raw wool into a yarn. She asked for a volunteer and Sonya stepped forward. It was more difficult than it looked, although she began to get the hang of it after a while.

Whilst Constantina continued spinning a yarn and Ester was being wrestled to the ground, Maria began to show us the various herbs and minerals they used to colour the wool.

There was a leafy plant called Ch'illca which would produce a green pigment. The yellow flowers of the q'olle was used for yellow. The wool would be boiled with these ingredients to absorb the dye and then they added a mineral they called collpa to fix the colours, to stop it from fading or wash off.

The one that surprised me was the use of cochineal, a beetle and popular ingredient as a food colouring. Maria collected a few dried bugs off a piece of cactus, like a prickly pear, and placed them in the palm of her hand. She then crushed them resulting in a bright red blood bath.

She then demonstrated how this beetle juice was the basis for many other shades, by adding a powdered mineral like dried clay, it turned purple, adding dried lime juice it turned it almost orange.

I wasn't paying attention but by some alchemy she conjured up the colour black.

Whilst Dina was showing us how to use a back-strap loom, Ester was still running amok, so Maria tried to wrap her up in her shawl and strap her to her back but Ester was having none of it!

She continued to make a nuisance of herself until Maria gave up in the end.

With the presentations over we were shown to their products. They had the familiar selection of chullo hats, worry dolls, purses and bags. The entire wall however was filled with a large selection of hand woven cloth, all with intricate traditional colourful patterns.

Julie didn't really want anything but felt a need to buy something. She found a black and white knitted scarf, with a few llama motifs on it. Whilst I was lead by my very own personal shopper as Ester showed me a few purses for my consideration.

We bought and paid for the scarf and two purses then went inside to sit down at the dining table.

Ester made sure we weren't missing out on buying more and brought several little gifts to the table for us to look at.

Twenty minutes later Sonya and Garry arrived at the table. She does like to shop!

Moments later lunch arrived. It began with a corn soup. To my surprise Julie really enjoyed it. She's not a fan of sweetcorn, but this wasn't the generic corn from our supermarket shelves but something completely different. It was rich and savoury, not at all sweet. There was also potato in there to thicken it up.

It got a big thumbs up from everyone.

It was followed by a simple plate of vegetables to share. Some beetroot, broccoli, carrots, quinoa and large kernels of maize or corn. Nothing exciting but all nice and fresh. And there was a potato stew which tasted just like the soup!

Then the guinea pig arrived! Everyone had a go. Julie went first. The verdict was muted. It looked like it had been butchered with a cleaver, chopping it up, bones and all. At least it came with a few baked potatoes.

I don't think anyone would be rushing out to try it again!

I was just glad I could play my vegetarian card.

Shortly after 1pm we thanked them for their hospitality and said goodbye to Ester, Dolores, Constantina and the rest of the group. After using their facilities, which was a nice flush toilet, we left through the door we came in, this time noticing the garland of red lupins. Not just a pretty decoration but to ward off negative energy and bring good luck.

Back on the road we slowly bumped our way back down the mountain side into the valley. At least this time, because we were driving on the right hand side of the road, we weren't right on the edge of the drop. Julie breathed a little easier. 

As we got closer to Pisac we saw again the remarkable terraces of the Inca citadel. Above them we could see trail paths leading over the hillside but the buildings of the ancient city were out of sight.

When we reached Pisac the first thing I noticed was a local chicheria. It looked just like any other house but the stick with a red thing on the end gave it away. It looked proper rough and ready.

Moments later we pulled over at the start of the market. Ali Jei mentioned she knew Pisac very well because she lived here for a couple of months. She didn't expand and we didn't pry into how she found herself living here for a short time.

"It has a reputation as a place for hippies" she said.

Despite being predominantly a tourist market it did have a local feel about it.

"We are lucky to be here on a Sunday" explained Ali Jei.

On Sundays people from the nearby villages descend on Pisac to sell their fruit & vegetables, not at the market we visited earlier but at a pop-up market set up in the main square. 

The further into the market we walked the busier and more colourful it became. The goods for sale certainly became more tourist souvenirs.  I even bought myself something, another football shirt!

A black and gold shirt caught my attention but somehow I walked out with a red shirt of Cusco FC.

I also fancied a fedora from a hat store which seemed to have every colour possible. I am a bit partial to a hat but Julie's "You don't need another one" put a stop to any thought of buying one.

A little further along we came to a popular bakery called Horno San Francisco. "Would you like to try something?" asked Ali Jei.

They were baking from a traditional wood fired oven, decorated with the Toritos de Pucará, a pair of sacred bulls and a cross. It looked like it had been here for centuries. In fact it had. It was established in 1830. 

Even though we just had lunch I was keen on finding out more.

They only had two items on the menu, a cheese filled empanada and a cheese and ham filled one. They were only 4 soles each. So I joined the back of the queue. They were baked in large trays and actually looked more like a bread rolls. I was drooling at the thought of having one and they didn't disappoint.

Warm freshly baked doughy bread rolls filled with melted cheese has to be one of the best things to eat!

We continued along the market street reaching Plaza Constitucion, a large open square where Iglesia San Pedro Apóstolo stood. Despite looking like it was a centuries old colonial church, what we see today was actually rebuilt from scratch after the original church was destroyed during an earthquake in the 1950s.

It had this unique cross outside, decorated in bright colourful patterns, with the head of Jesus Christ at its centre. There was something very intriguing about it. We certainly hadn't seen anything quite like it. 

We continued around the square, catching a glimpse of a lady in her finest traditional costume. It looked like she was heading home. She was obviously here for the tourists, offering an opportunity to have their photographs taken with a her alpacas. But tourists seemed scarce. There weren't many of us about.

There was a great atmosphere in the plaza. Upbeat fiesta music was blaring out of speakers from a gazebo set up in the middle of square, serving food from large tin tubs.

I saw sweet potato on a polystyrene tray with a pickled onion salad and was really tempted to try some. I was only dissuaded by the unidentified ingredient in the large enamel tin bowl. It looked like a ceviche, but a ceviche of what?

 We continued to walk around the square, reaching the fruit and veg market along the Southern side. It was a vibrant display of abundance, a gift from the fertile land of the Sacred Valley. 

The was plenty of vegetables available, like beans, onions, carrots, cauliflowers, marrows, and those fruits that fall into the veg basket like chilli peppers and tomatoes. In the square we didn't notice much in the way of conventional fruit.

The older ladies all wore the traditional bombin, the short-rimmed taller variation of a bowler hat that's so ubiquitous with Andean culture. It was interesting to see that not one hat was the same, all were a slightly different shade of brown, with a different type of band, and all with varying width and height, but essentially all were a bombin.

They also all wore a tabard apron which reminded me so much of my grandmother. Even my mother still wears one during the day when she's busy with her chores.

We left the square down a street that ran parallel to the tourist market street. It was a much quieter street and it lead us in no time to the Mercado Abastos where we bought all the fruit earlier this morning.

At the point where we met the main road, two ladies were selling their homemade chicha from large buckets. They had five different colours, I guess five different flavours. They looked so much like milkshake festering in the sun and a definite no-no for the uninitiated!

Ali Jei ushered across the road. Waiting for us on the side was our bus.

As we were about to leave a troop of brightly clothed people were arriving. Apparently every Sunday there is a procession to and from the church on the square in a tradition that dates back to the days of the Inca. It was a shame we were going to miss it.

The road took us out of Pisac to a small village called Coya. Ali Jei explained that the name Coya is basically the same as Cuy, which meant guinea pig and that there were so many cuyerías, (guinea pig restaurants) in the town.

As we approached the town there was a cloud of smoke, like a fog, across the road, coming from the countless barbecues busy cooking. It wasn't just guinea pigs either. We saw Chancho al Palo, or "pork on a pole" . It reminded me of how an Argentinian lamb al asador is cooked, skewered and suspended at an angle above hot charcoal.

But by far the most popular dish was the guinea pig. There were plenty of cuyerias along the side of the road, all busy cooking the cute little furry rodent, skewered onto a pole and slowly barbecued.

Just outside the town of Calca I got a little excited when we drove past a five tier terrace, a restored part of the Inca city of Unu Urco. It ran alongside the road. In themselves, they weren't anything special but the were certainly whetting the appetite for Machu Picchu.

A few miles later we rolled into Yucay. We passed twin parks known as Plaza Manco and Plaza Manco II, where children were playing football,  probably emulating their heroes from Friday night's game. I know I would be, if I had actually seen Peru score!

In between the two parks was the Iglesia de Santiago Apóstolo, built in 1650 and considered the first church founded in the Sacred Valley. The bell tower was basic yet very evocative of the Spanish colonial era.

Yucay was once an very important town. A famous battle, between the Manco Inca, leader of the Inca resistance against the Spanish conquistadors, took place here. The Spanish invaders even referred to the Sacred Valley as the Yucay valley.

But now it seemed nothing more than a suburb of the expanding town of Urubamba, the largest town in the Sacred Valley.

In the centre of Urubamba, we passed a new installation that said "Gracias por su la visita" or "Thank you for your visit". On top of one of the columns there was a statue of an Andean condor, an enormous type of vulture famously known for their three metre wingspan.

"I wonder if we'll see one?" said Garry.  Now that would be something.

Shortly afterwards we turned off the main road and drove up  in search of a cafe restaurant called AMA. None of us wanted anything to eat or drink but it was a scheduled stop on our itinerary.

Intrepid has partnered with AMA since it was founded in 2018, supporting its charity work with single mothers. [you can read more about it here]

It had a lovely garden setting with a seating area beneath a shelter. We were greeted by the founder, Julio Chemi Sanchez Hernandez. He talked passionately about his vision and the work they did here as a social project in the community.

How during the pandemic in 2020 he feared it was all over but now they're back stronger, offering work for single mothers and providing a safe environment for their children.

We ordered a coffee and a carrot cake each and very nice they were.

On the way out, walking through the garden we came across this strange tree. It looked quite prehistoric. It had no leaves, a thin trunk and at the end of its branches it had these peculiar looking rosettes of thick leaves.

Both Julie and I work for a horticulture business, but our plant knowledge is very limited. Although we both thought how similar to a Sempervivum the rosette leaves looked.

When I returned home I used Microsoft's Copilot (an AI tool) to analyse the photo and it told me that it was an Aeonium.  (clever stuff this AI)

Back in the minibus we continued on our journey towards Ollantaytambo, twelve miles from Urubamba. As we drove into the town Ali Jei pointed out the Inca ruins perched spectacularly on the side of the mountain.

I spent the next few minutes trying to get a clear view of it.

As we turned towards the train station I caught a brief moment where I could see it in all its glory and then it was gone again.

Some of the original construction may have pre-dated the Inca but its the stories that involve the Inca battles with the Spanish that are mostly associated with these ruins.

Built as a strategic viewpoint overlooking the valley it served as a military fort but it's also believed to have been a royal residence of Emperor Patchcuti.

The resistance leader Manco Inca's rebellion against the Spanish and the legendary Battle of Ollantaytambo in 1537 where he successfully defended and repelled the conquistadors, including a tactic of flooding the valley, are all well documented by the Spanish themselves.  

Shortly after 4pm we arrived at the train station. Ali Jei collected our tickets from the office and handed them over to us, pointing out our carriage. We were in coach "I".

"We must now wait here" she explained.

It wasn't a simple case of walking down to the platform to get on the train. Instead it involved a ceremonial procession.

 We didn't know what to expect but then saw a troop dressed in bright colours, the men like Inca warriors, the women like princesses. 

A crowd was congregating, waiting for carriage letters to be called out. This they did in alphabetical order. Some had already gone. As we arrived we saw the  passengers on coach "G" leave, following behind excitable Inca warriors, encouraging them all to dance and jump around. They blew horns, whistled and hollered to create a celebratory atmosphere.

Next there seemed to be a gold standard being held aloft. I don't know if that was for  first class or not?   All I knew was, it wasn't ours.

Then after "H" it was our turn. We followed a bunch of them down towards the train. They tried to get us all to dance and clap but we were having none of that frivolity!

Seriously, I would have to of chewed a whole bag coca leaves to get that jiggy!

At the station, there wasn't a platform as such, just a pavement that ran alongside the tracks. Instead of having a raised platform to step into the train they had steps for each carriage.

All the coaches had the letter clearly signed. We had to walk the entire length of the train. Coach "I" was the last one.  

We were riding The Voyager, an Inca Rail train to Machu Picchu.

"All aboard the Ma'choo Pik'cho Choo-choo" I quipped, with not as much as a giggle in response. 

We joined the queue as we all got our tickets checked before boarding.

All the seats were set around a table for four, which was great for us. Ali Jei had to sit by herself, somewhere else.  We were fortunate in that our window was large and without any interruptions. Some of the tables were positioned in between windows.

We set off on time at 4:30pm rolling out of Ollantaytambo. 

It certainly wasn't a bullet train as we chugged along the tracks at a gentle pace. The noise of the wheels going over the joins in the tracks brought back a lot of nostalgic memories of childhood train journeys. That constant rhythm could be quite soothing, hypnotic even, if you allowed it. But we were too busy staring out the window.

The rugged scenery was stunning to begin with but it was now enhanced by the sun setting, and brushing the mountains with its golden glow.

We were sat looking out of the right hand side window. For the whole journey, the Urubamba river was on our left. We didn't cross it once, so we hardly got to see it.

About half an hour into our journey we noticed the young man who checked us on board the train was busy rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, then both legs of his black trousers, before a costume change into an Inca warrior.

What followed was a peculiar performance of song and dance, re-enacting a love story. He was joined by a lady dressed like those who had escorted us down to the train.

You could tell they were embarrassed as they hopped and skipped down the aisle. We didn't have a clue what the story was about but understood it had a happy ending.

Thankfully the show didn't last long and we could return to staring out the window at the scenery which was getting increasingly dramatic. We even caught a glimpse of the (slightly) snowy peaks of the Huajayhuillca (or Wakaywillka) mountain range. It's also known as Veronica, which is a lot easier to remember.

The pair of Inca lovers were now back in their waiting uniforms and came around with a drinks and snacks menu. I ordered a beer, called Apu Veronica.

Apu was an old Inca word meaning the "spirit who lives atop the mountain".

Today however it meant the 8.9% double IPA spirit that lurks in your bottle!

I didn't realise it was that strong! It was brewed by a microbrewery in the village of Pachar, near Ollantaytambo and a very nice easy to drink strong beer, nothing like that like the treacle I drank at The Bear pub, in Paddington, London.

The journey continued. We gradually saw less out of our window as the tracks often seemed to be cut down into the land, or trees and shrubs got in the way. Every now and again we would get a breathtaking glimpse of the landscape.

Shortly after 6pm the sun had set and the sky turned black. We could see nothing out the windows but our own reflection. The exception to this was when we past the stationary Belmond Hiram Bingham luxury train. We were excited to see a snapshot of its opulence as we rolled slowly past. We even saw into their kitchen where a troop of chefs in their tall white hats were preparing the next meal.

"One day" I said "we'll be back, and we'll be on that train and staying at the Belmond's Sanctuary Hotel at the gates to Machu Picchu".  One lottery win later perhaps. 

We arrived at Aguas Calientes around 6:15pm. With nine coaches of 40 people per carriage the narrow platform soon filled up. Despite being in the front there was already a flood of people rushing for the exit, causing a bottleneck. 

Ali Jei knew of another exit, on the opposite end, so we followed her, cutting across people, going against the flow. It was useful that we only had our day bags with us and not all our luggage. We reached a flight of steps, at the top of which we crossed another set of train tracks. A Peru Rail train was at the station, ready to leave. Julie almost pushed me out of the way to get off the tracks as soon as she could. 

We reached a street called Calle Kori Wakanki, filled with hotels and tour operators. Our hotel, Inti Punku, was one of these.

Our room was on the 5th floor. Thankfully they had an elevator because the thought of walking up the staircase was enough to make us want to sleep on the sofa in reception.

 The lift door opened and we had to walk down a few steps to effectively floor four and a half to reach our room. It was a really odd layout.

The room was fine, if a little bare.  

We dropped our bags and headed straight out to stretch our legs and explore on our own.  

It didn't feel like we were in Peru anymore. Aguas Calientes was built simply to serve the tourist trade.  There was nothing old or authentic about it. I don't think there was anything much older than fifty years in the town.

It didn't even exist until the railway was opened.

In the 1920's a camp sprung up for the construction workers building the new railway. Then with ease of access, the tourists began to arrive. Slow at first. Even as recent as the early 1980's only 140,000 adventurous people visited per year. In 2019, before the pandemic, 1.6 million people visited!

The town has expanded rapidly in the last 40 years to cope with the demand.

Over tourism has been a problem in Machu Picchu. They introduced a cap on visitor numbers but that just keeps on being increased, from 2500 to 3800 last year, to 4500 per day this year. So that's back up to 1.6 million a year.

After having a quick look around and a cheeky drink at D'Cristian's we returned to the hotel to meet the others at reception and head our for some supper. Ali Jei lead us towards the stream that flowed through the town, walking over one of several bridges that crosses it. 

We continued downhill until we met the train tracks, then walked along those tracks to reach the restaurant called Mynaycha.

They had tables outside, so we decided to make the most of the pleasant evening.

 It did however mean that we were sat right next to the train tracks which was fine until a train passed. Then we couldn't hear ourselves think. Fortunately only two, short local trains came during our time here.

The waitress came out with the menu. She was quite charming with a "Hello Lady, Hello Mister".

We browsed the menu and I was surprised to see several vegan dishes. I was so surprised that I chose badly, opting for a soya (meat-substitute) lomo saltado, usually a traditional beef stew. I don't know what possessed me. It was undoubtedly the worse meal of the trip so far.

However, my starter was ok, which was a soup called sopa de chaquepa,  made with wheat, vegetables, Andean potatoes and toasted bread. So it wasn't all bad.

Julie went for the pork dish which again was a huge portion. It wasn't her favourite either. So overall it was a disappointing meal.

After leaving the restaurant we took the scenic route back, walking up to the square, Plaza Manco Cápac. A golden statue stood off centre reminding us of the formidable warrior and founder of the Inca Empire during the early 13th century.

The square was possibly the nicest part of Machu Picchu Pueblo, the official name of the town since 1941. But, for some reason, Aguas Calientes still sticks. It means "hot water" in Spanish and refers to hot springs that exist only a few minutes walk away from here.

At least they don't still call it Maquinachayoq, the Quechan name for this area before the railway arrived. That wouldn't be easy for the tourist to wrap their tongue around!

There was a small church on the square, Parroquia Virgen del Carmen, creating a sense of cultural heritage.

In front of the church was a larger than life statue of a condor. It would be amazing to see one for real. However, Ali Jei managed our expectations by telling us that it would be "very rare" around here.

We left the square up Avenue Pachacutec, a street filled with guesthouses, bars,  restaurants, busy with travellers enjoying the hospitality of Aguas Calientes before their visit to Machu Picchu tomorrow.

We stopped in our tracks when we saw the strangest dog we had ever seen! It was a Peruvian hairless dog. The breed has existed in Peru since at least the time of the Inca. They called it Allqu.

It was very unattractive. I don't think this one was a fine example. It was an odd shape, short legs, big head. It was clearly old, with hair sprouting out the top of its head like a mohawk. Poor thing. 

We crossed the river and returned to the hotel by 9pm. Today had been another epic day so we were all ready to call it a night. It was the sensible thing to do, especially as we had a very early start tomorrow.  

Tucked up in bed, trying to get to sleep we were disturbed by our neighbours, who arrived like a pair of excitable young girls on their first trip to Ibiza. The walls were so thin we could hear every little burst of giggles.

Eventually it went quiet. Thankfully they either left or crashed and burned.