Yes, I’d seen the YouTube videos of the 60-degree stone steps. On one side a wall or a cable to grasp occasionally, on the other, a 2000-foot drop into oblivion. My experiences climbing the Western Breach of Mt. Kilimanjaro and the trek to Mt. Everest Base Camp had taught me that height exposure could be turned into exhilaration as long as the footing is not precarious.
My wife, Kristin and I were planning a Peruvian Tour with Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT). In addition to other beautiful locations, our group was going to tour Machu Picchu in an afternoon, spend the night in the nearby town of Aguas Calientes, and then return the following morning for optional hiking. The group was going to do the traverse to the Sun Gate, but I had made my own plans.
Early in our research, I had discovered the Huayna Picchu hike. Our optional day provided an opportunity to acquire the necessary advanced ticket and time slot for Huayna Picchu. All of which had to be done prior to leaving Wisconsin. It looked fun and quite manageable to me. I had to email a photograph of my passport with the online application along with around $90 US. And lastly, upon arrival in Peru, I had to email a picture of the entrance stamp in my passport.
Kristin had climbed Mt. Fuji with our two son’s and I, she had the legs, but the extreme exposure was out of her comfort zone. On our first afternoon strolling around Machu Picchu, we stood with Huayna Picchu towering over us and I told her I’d signed up to climb The Stairs of Death the next day.
Bless her heart and her understanding, Kristin joined me for breakfast at 5am and walked with me to the first bus to the main gate at 5:30am.
The pre-dawn ride up the countless switchbacks was filled with the predictable feelings of self-doubt, anticipation, and excitement. I crossed the entire Machu Picchu grounds to reach the gate to Huayna Picchu with twenty minutes to spare before my 7am start time. The site rules allow 200 people in between 7 and 8am and 200 between 11am and 12 noon to enter each day. I was alone most of the time.
Huayna Picchu was offering me an additional challenge. The mountain was draped in a mysterious opaque fog, but the rain had stopped hours ago. The steps would be wet, but I’d be moving slowly at altitude. I saw no reason to retreat.
I was number eight through the gate for my trek into the clouds. As I ascended, it was obvious I would not be able to see how far I could fall, but make no mistake; I could feel what the quiet gray mist hid. Regardless, I would see the exposure on the way down. The task became straightforward, take every step one at a time and keep my balance.
As the first photograph shows, most of the steps are three feet wide and provide solid footing. Wouldn’t you know, visiting this far away exotic destination, the first person I encountered resting along the trail was from Madison, Wisconsin.
My pace felt good up the serpentine trail and I was on top in one hour along with a dozen other souls. The fog was dissipating, so I simply worked my way carefully down the well-marked trail. Passing ascenders on the steps took consideration as the exposure was now obvious. Down-climbing is more difficult because if you stumble on the way up you can grab the steps or the wall. All you have on the descent is a hand on the wall, the Peruvian sky, and what mountaineers call the grand tour to the bottom of the valley.
Returning to the gate, I clocked out at 9am ready to meet Kristin at the Machu Picchu gift shop. A quick glance at the log told me, on this day, at sixty-six, I was the oldest climber by twenty years. It was an exhilerating experience. I felt pretty darn good.
The Adventures of Spaghetti Eddie 