Peru+2007

For the impatient: Pictures

The Origins of Team Ole

Setting out from around the world, seven persons began a quest that would end in the formation of the team that would light up one of the newest wonders of the world. But nobody knew that in the spring of 2007. Nobody knew that on June 15th, 2007 ... the beginning of a new beginning.

Together we touched the airports of Toronto, New York, Phoenix, Los Angeles, San Salvador, San Jose and finally met up in Lima. With the discovery of Tacama Rose, some of us had started the party before J and SC arrived. Having had dinner at an outdoor mall in Mira Flores and spoken with Carla the blackjack dealer at the JW Marriott's casino, we gathered supplies and headed back to the hotel. There J and SC arrived and we headed down to the lobby for a bit. From there, we headed back to visit the craps table and then over to Mama Batata's -- the hottest club we visited in Lima. There, several spokespersons for the Barena corporation were handing out everything from balloon hats to whistles. It wasn't until after the wee hours of the morning had passed that we took a short nap. In the morning, we dashed madly to the airport to catch a flight to Cusco.

In Cusco, we planted our flag at the wonderful Don Carlos hotel and set out to explore the main plaza. There we found the yearly Cusco festival ramping up. We also found Maggy, the proprietoress of the aptly named Chez Maggy's. This was the first time we were confronted with Cusco's army of establishment promoters. Each promoter hangs out in different areas showing off their establishment's menu and espousing their virtues. I'm not sure if Maggy employed such a person, but her restaurant was amazing and simple. Her fire oven was just inside the front door and seating area was decorated with machines of yore -- an old piano keyboard here and an old typewriter there. Chimichangas on the menu? We could have kissed Maggy.

If Don Carlos was basecamp, Mama Africa's was our lookout post. Located in the corner of the main plaza on the second floor, this club/bar/restaurant/movie theatre/chess club quickly became our home away from home away from home -- we dubbed it Devil's Super South. Still recovering from our adventures in Lima, J and M played chess while the rest of the team watched Spiderman 3. SC and SD checked out mythologie later that evening, but in general it was a nice, relaxing day.

Monday morning we anxiously took taxis to a residential neighborhood in Cusco to meet a woman named Dina. Dina was responsible for obtaining our permits for hiking the Inca trail. We had a great time confirming and reconfirming things like vegetarian meals, sleeping bags and how many porters we wanted to hire to carry our personal belongings. Once the details were squared away and after some debate about whether or not we needed bolleto toursticas (J's first battle with the Spanish language did not go well), we set out to explore the ruins close by Cusco. Led by our copy of Lonely Planet, we took a pair of taxi's up to Tombamachay, the highest ruin closeby and situated about 8km from Cusco.

Tombamachay is at 3750m above sea level -- we could feel it, no question. Even a slight incline was breathtaking; but not in the sense of astonishment, rather the feeling one gets when doing pushups . We worked our way down to a ruin that was a store house, then to a place of sacrifice. At the place of sacrifice we met a kid we dubbed 'Shorty'. Using his unbounded amounts of energy, he scampered about the ruin explaining what went on here in Incan times. His fifth grade English was almost as impressive as his sure-footedness. He pointed out places in the ruin where the Incans had carved out pumas and condors and carved in llamas and a blood channel. After helping us take a few pictures, he asked for payment for his unsolicited services. Satisfied he bounded over to college kids from Michigan.

We hopped on taxis to cover ground more quickly and made our way down to Saqsaywaman. This was a fort and a stronghold for the conquistadors and then for the ousted Incas to mount a doomed retaliatory siege. It also has a special geographical honor. The valley of Cusco is shaped like a puma, Saqsaywaman is the head. In other words, if Cusco is Voltron, Saqsaywaman is the Black Lion and 'forms the head'. We reached this fort just after sunset, much to our photographic chagrin. Either way we got to see where big Jesus was stationed and we saw them putting out thousands of seats for people to enjoy the rapidly approaching festivals. Having completed our walking tour, we took a 'rally nap' and headed back out to Mama Africa's. We then went on to make our mark at Mythologie and Uptown.

Tuesday morning we met Captain Aaaaaaaaaltidude, also known as Carlos. Exuberantly demeanored Carlos was our tour guide for the cheapest all-day bus tour we'd ever been on. We started with a bus ride up to the Pisac market. The girls hung back to fully explore, map and get lost in the maze that is the Pisac Market, while the boys went up to the ruins up at Pisac. While the girls were treated to cheaper prices and raw, unrefrigerated meats deep in the market, the boys were treated to temples of the suns and their first exposure to the experimental farming fields of the Incan civilization. When the girls were away, the boys seem to play a little more with the camera. Starting off with death-defying pictures, we started taking sillier and sillier pictures. Finally H, took on the mantle ofIncan passport control check and started asking visitors for their bolleta touristicas.

After picking up the girls we headed down to Urubamba to have a buffet lunch. J continued to make friendly with the ladies and found himself quite the catch. N took some time off and took a rickshaw over to the pharmacist to get some drogas for H. Having eaten more dessert than was strictly necessary, we headed down to Ollyantambo -- home of the man in the mountain. We slowly climbed up the terraces, not using ladders as we thought we might be, stopping frequently to allow Carlos to explain things like the 27-syllable word for God in the Incan language. Up the terraces to see the farming fields, over to some crenelations to see a second face carved into the mountain and finally down to the princess's bathing fountain. Here we learned the Incan civilization featured top-notch hydraaaaaaaaulic ennnnngineeeeers. Once we photographed the selectively non-evil monkeys, it was time to visit Chinchero.

We reached Chinchero after dark but our walking-stick destiny was to be fulfilled here, and nowhere else. We imbued horns, teeth, wood, yarn and clay with spirit and character to bring to life our beautifuly fierce, fiercely ugly walking sticks -- making them a team of their own.

Hastily we returned to basecamp to find our newest friend, Simon, waiting with Dina. We received a briefing designed to prepare us for the Inca Trail by setting our expectations for progress and assuaging last minute fears. After that we trekked out a modern supermarket called Mega to stock up on junk food. Finally, we returned to face the first battle of the trail -- packing. Using Ziploc bags we compressed clothes until they were close to turning into diamonds, or possibly starting the first cold fusion reaction known to man. In the end we had two 18kg Gregory backpacks holding supplies we would only need at a campsite. A night that was supposed to end around 9pm, ended over three hours later.

Six hours into the day we began getting ready, waving goodbye to the mattresses and taking that special, last shower. Drinking our coca tea, eating our eggs and popping the pills down in the breakfast area proved to be relatively uneventful (I mean, if you don't count the events I just mentioned). At Six thirty, Simon popped in and ushered us to the van and we began to the start of the trail -- known as Km 82.

At Km 82 we took stock of our supplies and carried all of our gear to the passport control point. We wouldn't see our extra porters for another 45 minutes so J and N hauled atlasian loads while SD and H each held a pair of daypacks , one of which was mistaken for gestating offspring. We were greeted by donkeys soon after we crossed the bridge, who were all going the other way. When we finally caught up to the extra porters, J and N were relieved to be relieved of the Gregorys. During the short hike to lunch, we saw a glacier, a flock of goats, ruins of storage buildings, and the train that carries less adventurous tourists to Machu Picchu.

At this first lunch, Heemesh pointed out that the better he felt the worse of the girls would be; this proved true as his strength would fuel a myriad of teasing, scarring and general stinging 'burns'. A dog chased SC into the lunch tent and we all sat down to eat our first bowls of soup. After a siesta, it was back to the trail. As porters whooshed by we got our first taste of 'gradual incline'. Gradual is a relative term and would be used to describe all the but the steepest of ascents. Upon reaching our first campsite, I was winded and soaked in my own sweat. As night fell, cool air cooled me and I realized why dry clothes are essential to survival. The girls sponge bathed in their tent while the guys poked fun at them. We ate dinner, took pictures of the stars and had a great time at dinner.

Hilarity continued to ensue as we began our first night in the tent. The girls built Club Altitude, but failed to have a music, while the guys spent most of the first half of the night looking for pants. We all finally hit the hay and discovered that the tent was just a bit too narrow for us. Some of us woke to the sound of a rooster crowing its crow in the morning. When they realized that it was still two hours before wake up time, the appreciation of a natural wakeup call quickly morphed in to blood lust stymied only by the cold weather outside.

We spent more time than anticipated getting out of camp, we endangered our mission to reach the next campsite by mid-afternoon. The second day was reported to be the most challenging of the hike and it did not disappoint. We skipped lunch and survived off of snacks and frequent rests. Moving through some dense forest up to the last vendor selling bottled water, we slowly exhausted our physical energy stores. As the air became thinner, rests became more frequent and we relied on the strength of our walking sticks.

When our lungs gave up, J busted out the Treo and its little tiny speakerphone; magically the hills were alive with the sound of muuuuuuuuuuusic. The last climb up to Dead Woman's pass was by far the most difficult part of the hike. Nobody dared to describe this segment as a gradual incline. A stone staircase led up to a height of 4215m. There each person received a round applause from those resting atop. Whether somebody performed bhangra on the way, or staggered and almost fainted, we all made it up there. Trooper awards and rockstar awards were already in the works for half of our team. Most importantly Team Ole had reached the top!

Along the way we had met groups from Australia, New York and who knows where else. Groups helped each photograph their accomplishments and then it was downhill to the campsite. I found it odd that going downhill proved to be only mildly less challenging than going uphill. Reaching our campsite felt good, the hardest was behind us, it was time to rest. The girls found it a little hard to rest as they believed a scorpion had somehow climbed up and decided to rest in their tent. Eating dinner at 3600m above the sea proved to be cold, really cold. When we went back to the tents, we realized that we were one sleeping bag short. Had one fallen off the porter's back? Would four men have to somehow make do with three sleeping bags? Thankfully not, Simon found a sleeping bag after all. Rain fell soon after I had expressed gratitude that it had not rained. But the rain wasn't strong and only lasted a few hours. The only ill effect was that one of the porter's shirts froze.

The third day exposed a key oversight of the axiom, "what goes up must go down". Nowhere in the phrase does it remark that during the 'descent' one might have to go up a little first. So we climbed up further and met a crew from Norway. At first we thought they were admiring our walking sticks only have our hearts smashed as they described them as tacky and proclaimed they would not be caught dead with them. Most of us had to restrain our walking sticks as they were ready to destroy this pair of Norwegian women.

As we visited ruins on the third day, we learned that the Inca's trail was also used during the time of Spanish conquest to avoid sugar cane taxes. We also learned that if one were to hike along the train tracks, one would reach Machu Picchu in six or seven hours. Briefly a sense of foolishness washed over the team before we realized that it is indeed the journey not the destination that matters most to us.

We reached a campsite at 3700m and looked around to find almost no shelter. We were hoping to have reached this campsite in time to persuade officials that we would like to move down to the last campsite on the trail. However, the officials were not there. Tense moments passed as we faced the possibility of spending another night at very high altitude and having to hike for hours in the dark in order to reach Machu Picchu in the early morning. Team Ole put its foot down and yelled 'Doctor'. After posting a note on the offcial's door, we started down to a warmer, more oxygenated campsite.

As we descended I could feel my strength returning and summoned the spirits of Dr. Indiana Jones to almost sprint us down back through the forest. As the sun set, we could see the camp. Simon, SC and SD didn't reach camp until well after dark. Thank god for head lamps. Simon explained the situation to the authorities but the camp's Doctor had left for the day, so we did not need to explain our case to them. We were greatful Simon risked his company's operating permits to get us to this campsite. That night, we were hot enough in the tents to leave only the screen door closed. Much to J and my own amusement, the sound of tents unzipping sent bolts of paranoia into the girls' tent and then spent a quarter of an hour convincing themselves that they knew we were out there. After dinner that evening we introduced ourselves to our support crew and they shared a little about themselves. We were all quite surprised that they these Quechua speaking hikers were familiar with email and Googlay. Here's the to the power of the internet.

The morning came quickly and we were no slouches getting out of the gates. Somehow, we were still some of he last hikers to the sun gate, Intipunku. We had made it. I will repeat this, we had made it. We all had different moments of arrival, but this was the first of it. We started down the last mile at different speeds. I had my tripod out and was taking opportunistic shots of the Machu Picchu. I wish I was slightly more patient, but I was definitely glad I brought all the camera gear that I did. For me the moment of arrival, accomplishment and celebration was when were on the terraces of Machu Picchu. There we were relatively free to frolic, high-five and, well, Hoooolllllllaaaaaaa! (This wasn't the first or last time we were shhhh'ed)

We headed down to entrance to Machu Picchu and Simon began the tour of this most recently discovered Incan ruin. A city housing at least 500 people was complex in its construction and varied in its functions. Temples, astronomical observatories, mortars, palacial rooms, store houses ... Machu Picchu was a fully functional city. We imagined what it would have been like to discover this place after 500 years of disuse, a city overrun by trees, hidden from almost everybody.

The sun grew hot, Team Ole grew tired. SS and myself went to hang out at the cafe at the bottom. There we rediscovered high fructose corn syrup in Coke, Gatorade, Doritos and French fries. We all reconvened and took a bus down to the town of Agua Caliente. A little boy chased our bus on foot, dangerously running straight down the mountain as the bus followed the safer switchbacks..

J and myself set out to tour the town in 37 minutes, along the way shopping for trophy t-shirts and snapping pictures of imposing bronze statues. We ordered pizza too cheesy for any of us, and hopped on a train where we annoyed other tourists in a way that would make the Animaniacs proud. Three hours later were back in a van, singing and rapping our way back to Cusco. We picked up our luggage at Don Carlos and moved to our new basecamp, a squaky floored hostal called Centenario. There we scrubbed and dubbed and then scrubbed some more. Man, it felt it good. We fought our way through crowds bigger than Disneyland and ended up at the Witch's Garden. A peculiar proprietoress took our order while sharing her view on life, Peru, and her lack of happiness. She definitely harshed our mellow, but we enjoyed her little enclave of Montreal in the middle of Cusco. It was in this garden that we toasted to Team Ole expanding its zone of comfort by attacking its zones of uncomfort. OOO ... le!

All during this day I had been in shock at what we had accomplished. We were made of sterner stuff than I had I expected and luck was on our side, every single step of the way. It was by no means easy, but we avoided injury, bad weather, major altitude sickness, or any of the other horror stories we had heard were not uncommon. For this we were definitely thankful. Even as I write this, I still don't believe exactly what we did.

SS and I came back to the hotel, others visited Mama Africa for a bit and met up with Simon. J didn't waste of a minute of his time and partied like a rockstar until six in the morning ... we were all quite impressed. Refreshed, we woke up ate breakfast and bid farewell to Cusco, SC and J and flew back to Lima. In Lima found ourselves in the cab of possibly the most ridiculous cab driver, ever.



We had heard from kids in Cusco that the Sheraton Lima 'sucked'. Perhaps we weren't clear on the definition of that word, as the Sheraton was a gem on the inside. Polished marble floors, and beautiful atrium outside the rooms, it definitely hit the spot. We spent the day walking to and fro the boardwalk, passing through a local shopping district and the Plaza de Armas. Throwing caution to wind, N and H ate from the street vendors, we ate at a Bemboz, their version of McDonald's. After taking pictures of funny signs, eating ice cream, seeing if we could watch Shrek the Third in English, people watching, shoe shopping, and perfume shopping, we headed back to Sheraton for some much needed R&R. We piled into a room and laughed at "Dr. Dolittle 2" and "I still know what you did last summer"... on second thought, I think we were just laughing at H vs. the bidet. After ordering room service, we turned in a much needed sleepy time.

After a lazy morning we took the best cab in Lima to the airport and started out journey home. We boxed our walking sticks and had a field day at the airport food court. Dunkin Donuts, Papa John's, and McDonald's greeted our greedy stomachs. After getting pegged for $30 airport tax, we got on a delayed plane and headed to El Salvador. A pirate adventure later, we were half way home. After hitting LAX, going through immigration, customs and shuttling to the hotel, it was 1:30am. 3 hours of sleep later we were back on the shuttle to catch a flight to Phoenix; not before H was reunited with his beloved jacket.

Home sweet home ... an adventure of a lifetime over, but never forgotten. Fun, fun times. Here's to Team Ole!!!

Posted: March 16, 2011 | | comments