Somehow, I originally had no desire to go to Machu Picchu. I was told horror stories about how hard it was to get tickets. The idea of the masses of tourists flocking to the wonder of the world every day had somehow spoiled my desire to go. Back in Colombia, Nato, whom I had met during my volunteering, had told me about Choquequirao, a lesser-known alternative to Machu Picchu.

As I planned my hike to Choquequirao, I noticed that the two ruins were only about 60 air miles apart. The prospect of hiking off the tourist Salkantay route to the sanctuary of Machu Picchu, and the fact that I would probably only be in the area once, finally convinced me to visit both ruins. As usual, I focused only on the kilometers to be covered. I hadn’t considered the elevation gain that would be involved. Although I had trained well in the past weeks, I should have brought my knee brace.

Why Choquequirao is considered a secret alternative to Machu Picchu becomes clear on the first day. Instead of a comfortable bus ride to the entrance, an almost vertically sloping path awaited me. Originally, I had planned to get to the other side of the valley just before the ruins on the first day, but my knees had other plans. Even before reaching the lowest point by the river, I had to take several breaks and set my pack down to give my knees a rest. This was a pain I hadn’t felt in many years.

The kilos were pressing, the steps were heavy, the sun was burning my skin, and the water was flowing directly from my bottle through my pores as if through a sieve. On the way I met two Australians, accompanied by donkeys, their drivers, a cook and a guide. The donkeys were driven up the mountain as if it were flat prairie, but even the donkeys were sweating as much as I was.

Arriving at the first suitable spot to camp, I saw the driver wringing out his T-shirt. They seemed to be going further, further up, which is where I really wanted to go for the day. But no, I knew my limits, stayed there and gave my knees a well-deserved rest.

The next day, it took me another three hours to reach the spot where I had originally planned to camp. Fortunately, I had listened to my knees. The Australian group had arrived there late in the dark the day before.

The ruins looked like they had forgotten to put the roofs on. The stone buildings have stood there unused for almost 500 years. The original inhabitants were simply driven out by the Spanish after some disputes.

It is impressive how they managed to build such a palace on the top of a mountain so remotely and without suitable beasts of burden. Llamas and alpacas are only suitable for loads up to 25 kilos. Only the Spaniards brought suitable animals, such as horses and donkeys.

The descent from the ruins on the other side caused the same problems as two days before. I was still worried about my knees, and sweat continued to pour from the barrels, as in a good brewery.

Since the second day, two dogs accompanied us. We did not pay much attention to them so as not to encourage them to follow us, but to no avail. The dogs accompanied us on our exhausting journey, neither asking for affection nor food, but were busy fucking with each other. They often remained entangled in each other, a sight to smile at.

As I, with my long legs, took the lead, the two dogs attached themselves to my heels. They surely covered two or three times the distance. Again and again they ran ahead, looked back and urged me to follow them. They were even more motivated than I was. It was nice to have such a following, friends who were just happy to have someone around, unconditional love.

On my way from Yamana to Collpapampa on the Salkantay trek, I met a family with a donkey. The daughter immediately fell in love with the two dogs, and the mother tried to negotiate with me to buy them. Jokingly, I asked for two soles (50 cents) per dog. They took the dogs as a gift. My friends had a new home with someone who could give them the attention and food that I could not provide due to my limited capacity.

That day turned out to be one of the longest of my time in Peru. I tried to get over a pass to camp on the other side. However, the other side turned out to be unsuitable for camping because there was no water and no flat spots. I had hiked a total of 27 kilometers, farther than I had planned, climbing over 2,000 meters in elevation and descending almost as much before finally arriving at a small stream that offered me a place to rest for the night. After a warm meal from my backpack, I fell into a death-like sleep that accompanied me until dawn.

My food reserves, planned for six days, were depleted after five. This was not a problem as I was counting on Collpapampa, a small town on the touristy Salkantay trek. Unfortunately, it was too touristy and offered only ready meals but no shopping. Apart from a few dried carrots, there was nothing to buy there. The nearest market was 12 kilometers in the opposite direction from my plan.

Flexible as I am and often have to be, I made my way there. Now I was on the tourist trails. On the narrow path, I had to keep pushing past the crowds of tourists who were on the Salkantay trek. The surprised faces when they saw that someone with such a big backpack could be so fast were priceless.

When you have no set plans, you can be in for surprises. In the middle of the trail, I met Nick, a very outgoing Brit I had already met in Lima. He told me about his travels by bike through South America and about an app that shows wild camping spots. Through this app I found a campsite with a view of Machu Picchu.

To get there, I had to climb a steep incline on the Inca Trail in sweltering heat. My sweat was pouring. The afternoon sun burned down mercilessly on me. I didn’t have enough water for my thirst and had to use it sparingly. It was worth it, however, because when I reached a wooden gate and walked through it, I was presented with a meadow overlooking Machu Picchu. This view was granted only after the effort of the climb and was denied to bus tourists. I stayed there in the campground, the owner charged me 1.25 euros for the night, including a shower. Wi-Fi, dinner and breakfast cost extra, but it was worth it. I enjoyed the meal in the company of a group that had already met on the Salkantay trek, consisting of French, Spanish, English and a Dutchman.

The next day we had to hurry to get to Aguas Calientes in time to buy tickets. We decided that whoever was fastest would get the tickets for the others. Despite my late start, I caught up with everyone else and took on the task of getting the tickets with Jorrit, the Dutchman.

The horror stories did not come true. All in all, we didn’t have to wait more than an hour to get first class tickets for the next morning. We spent the rest of the day in the touristy town enjoying coffee, cake and other treats. Conversations turned to extended bike rides and language learning.

Part two of this hike you can find here.

Food preparation on the trail