63. Macchu Picchu Park

63.

Macchu Picchu Park

The park is securely fenced and gated, of course, and there are the usual fees to pay and tour guides to avoid, but once in the park no one could fail to be impressed by this enchanted mountaintop.

They say that the master builders and inhabitants of Macchu Picchu were gone long before the Spanish arrived—and, except for these stone ruins, every trace of their civilization has vanished. There are garden terraces, gushing fountains of clear water, broad stone stairways, mysterious doorways and the great walls, whose colossal stones were cut to fit each other with such precision and so many angles that they have defied the destructive power of the frequent earthquakes of this region for centuries. In an upper clearing in the ruins, I see the extraordinary “sundial stone” whose peculiar angles have provoked thought and provided interesting puzzles for modern archeoastronomers.

These ruins, so alien and so unexpected in this remote setting of mists, wildflowers, tropical birds and butterflies, with the eternal thunder of the great Urubamba River echoing up from its twisting course a thousand feet below, impresses me more than any scene I have ever witnessed.

A few days later, I catch the early morning “Indian Train” back to Cuzco. The old coaches on this train offer an extreme contrast to the bright tourist train of the few days earlier. This train is chockfull of Indians with bags and bundles of merchandise for the Cuzco market and there are also a few penny-pinching backpackers like me. Naturally, there are no seats available, so I stand most of the way.

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