If you have been following the news, and/or my updates via facebook, youve heard that me and Evan and about 1,998 other international tourists have been trapped in the village of Aguas Calientes below the citadel of Machu Picchu for 3 days now following massive landslides and floods that have destroyed the road and railroad tracks to Cusco. Its good to get back to the story now from where I left off, as internet access has been difficult and sporadic at best, and what luck we´ve had in Peru! Well ill say we have had all kinds of luck, good and bad, but this might be our biggest ¨challenge¨yet.
After arriving in Aguas Calientes, our group took notice of the raging chocolate milk colored river blasting through the small town and thought this might not be normal, however we were told nothing of the possible danger we might be in, in fact we were encouraged by our guides that Machu Picchu was perfectly safe and that the town was in no danger. Accordingly, we awoke at 3am on the 24th to climb the epic staircase through the jungle in the middle of the night with about 200 other people. The climb consisted of about 1,700 stone carved steps meandering their way up the mountain of Machu Picchu, and it was completely exhausting. We reached the top around 5 am and waited at the gate for the sunrise and the chance to climb Huayna Picchu, the peak above the city affording the spectacular views.
Entering the ancient city was another dimension of reality. Never can you imagine such an insane feat of human ingenuity and imagination, a fully functioning city built upon a mountain ridge 6,000 feet above the valley floor. The solitude of the citadel is its most striking feature, and wondering about the ruins gives you the sense of the Inca´s commitment to spiritually linked locations that blow the mind. We were toured about by a local guide who gave us some idea of what went on here, but I couldn´t help but think this was the tip of the iceberg in terms of the Inca´s world here. Alpacas and llamas roamed freely about, munching on grasses and providing great entertainment for some local dogs here as well. Me and Evan were caught in between a dog/alpaca confrontation in a labyrinthine section of the city, with back and forth chasing, and it was the funniest and oddest experience in such an amazing place. What came next was different as well.
We were notified by our guide that the tour was gonna be cut short because there seemed to be a problem with the roads down below us. Apparently, the incessant rain had done some severe damage to all the routes out of town and the only way out now was most likely airlift by helicopter. At first, fantasies of American Blackhawks touching down in Machu Picchu plaza to airlift us stranded tourists off of the massive andean peak in victory popped into my head, but we had a sense of uncertainty from the guide that convinced us we should get down as soon as possible as the bridge might go any minute. After negotiating the bus line down we arrived back in Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Pueblo) with many other slightly panicked tourists, viewing the devastation that was unfolding. Much of the outside section of riverfront along the expensive hotel strip had been ripped out by the gnashing teeth of the most furious river imaginable, and things were likely to continue this way.
We were told that the roads and trails we had been following the previous day were completely impassable due to landslides and undermining by the river, including bridges and traintracks that ruled out all possibility of escape. We were now indefinitely stuck in Aguas Calientes, and we began to scramble for information. We found that our original guide who had gotten us here had not only completely abandoned us without word, he had also left us the bill for the hostal and we now had to pay to get our bags back. Staying with our original group, consisting of some Americans, Irish, and Argentines, we tried to make calls to the embassy and ask the local police what was going on. But the answers were ambiguous and conflicting, and so began the theme of our stay here for the next couple of days.
We decided to get into a hostal on higher ground as soon as possible, as we decided that housing may soon be hard to come by with so many stranded people here. Water and food were also top priorities and we stocked up accordingly, relying on Evans supply of cash he had luckily taken out the day earlier. It proved to be a very lucky move, as the ATMs soon were out of money and things seemed to get a bit more chaotic, as most places in town did not accept a credit card. Dinner that evening was hushed and solemn as our small American/Irish group considered our options: wait for airlift by helicopter which was likely to take days or maybe weeks, or possibly take the classic Inca Trail which was reportedly open, to Ollantaytambo, the next stop on the trail at a good 10 hour plus hike. These options seemed grim, and we basically had to prepare for the worst. It was the longest day of my life, but I was so exhausted that sleep came easily.
The next day proved much like the first, with a lack of information and a steady hard rain that served to blacken our spirits a little bit more. Seeking internet, I found long lines at both computer and phone in the cafes, making it very time consuming to communicate with the outside world, though it was still working fortunatly. Posting my Facebook status and trying to upload footage taken on my Flip HD cam, I recieved a reply from my cousin Sam wishing me luck and giving me some contacts at ABC, whom she works for in Europe. ABC wanted to get into contact with me to find out what was going on, and I struggled through mind numbingly slow connection to provide the info I had. Uploading the footage proved difficult and took me many sessions to get up, though I did eventually. I was interviewed by phone lent to me by a friendly Chilean guy, and I relayed the current situation as best I could, while Evan got in touch with the airlines to secure new flight dates and make sure our insurance covered such things. The plaza at this point was an immense mass of people forming a true microcosm of the world, with Argentines, Chileans, Brasilians, Europeans, Japanese, Canadians and Americans making up the majority of this small international community. News of airlifts came from announcements made in the central plaza by the mayor of Aguas Calientes, but relying on such promises proved worthless as time and time again each promise made came due and no helicopters arrived above the horizon. People began to congregate at the stadium that doubles as a helipad in the midday heat and sun that had finally come out. Rumors started to circulate of American air support arriving in the morning, but international relations between the countries gave word that landing the aircraft would be very difficult. On this day we did see one chopper circle above the mountains, and it apparently made a much needed supply drop of paramilitary force, water, and money. Just the things we needed down here.
Night was punctuated by the first unnofficial meetings of each national party, with organization by name and nationality attempted in the main plaza through chaotic line making and list building. The American contingency met to discuss what had been learned from the embassy, including news that indeed helicopters had been committed and that their priority was getting Americans out. The river continued to rage and the rain continued to fall. Money was running short and the situation was ripe to become dramatically worse. We prepared ourselves for that and the possibility of a long stay in a small town with tensions rising and hopes of immediate rescue falling. Part 2 to come soon…We are safe for now.
Heres the article I was quoted in:
