Set at 12,000 feet above sea level Cusco, is the ancient capital of the Incas. There is plenty to see in the city itself, from the Cathedral, the cobbled streets and Incan ruins. It is also a great base to explore the Andes, Macchu Pichu and the Sacred Valley.
Peru: Machu Picchu – The Lost City
🚂 All Aboard for Machu Picchu — The Early Train to Aguas Calientes
It was, yet again, an early start. I don’t know who decided that the best travel experiences all require you to be vertical and functioning before the sun has bothered to show up, but whoever it was clearly wasn’t a fan of lying in. The alarm went off well before any reasonable hour, and by 6:15 am we were boarding our train out of Cusco, bound for the Andean village of Aguas Calientes — the rather unglamorous but entirely necessary staging post for one of the most famous archaeological sites on the planet: the Incan city ruins of Machu Picchu.
Cusco that morning was, in a word, grim. Cold, wet, and still thoroughly dark as we shuffled through the streets with our bags. Cusco itself — or Qusqu, as the Quechua-speaking Inca would have called it — sits at a lung-punishing altitude of around 3,400 metres above sea level in the Peruvian Andes. It was the capital of the Inca Empire, which, at its height in the early 16th century, stretched from modern-day Colombia all the way down to central Chile, making it the largest empire in pre-Columbian America. The Spanish, always keen to impose themselves on things that were getting along perfectly well without them, arrived under Francisco Pizarro in 1533, promptly conquered the lot, and built a rather imposing colonial city on top of the Inca foundations — many of which, pleasingly, are still there underneath.
None of which was doing much to warm us up at quarter past six in the morning, I have to say.
The train itself, however, was a very pleasant surprise. I’d half expected the sort of rattling, seat-springs-through-the-upholstery affair you sometimes encounter on journeys like this, but instead we found ourselves in a genuinely smart carriage with assigned seats. The four of us were shown to a table — an actual table, like civilised people — and settled in with something approaching comfort. There were even two members of carriage staff, which felt almost indecently luxurious given the hour. The carriage featured a glass roof, which on a clear day would presumably offer spectacular views of the mountains rolling past overhead. On this particular morning, however, it was offering us a very thorough view of rain, which is not quite the same thing.
We pulled out of Cusco’s Poroy station — the main departure point since the original San Pedro station in the city centre stopped handling tourist trains some years ago — and almost immediately the railway had a problem on its hands. Cusco sits in a bowl-shaped valley, and getting out of it is not a simple matter of pointing a locomotive uphill and hoping for the best. The gradient is far too steep for a conventional train, so instead the railway uses a series of switchbacks — a zigzag system in which the train goes forward, stops, reverses up the next section, then goes forward again. Five of these manoeuvres were required to haul us out of the valley, which sounds rather undignified but is, in fairness, a perfectly effective piece of Victorian-era railway engineering thinking applied to a very awkward bit of Peruvian topography.
Once clear of the valley, we were properly underway on what would be a four-hour journey into the mountains — a distance of roughly 112 kilometres, though the route twists and turns so dramatically through the Sacred Valley and then into the cloud forest that it feels both longer and more interesting than any straight line would. The carriage staff appeared with blankets, which we accepted with the grateful enthusiasm of people who had not quite dressed adequately for the occasion, and settled in to watch the Andes wake up around us.
As dawn gradually broke — and I use the word “gradually” generously, given how long it seemed to take for the light to make any meaningful impression on the cloud cover — the agricultural lands of the valley floors began to come into view. This is the Sacred Valley of the Incas, the Urubamba Valley, a broad, fertile strip that the Inca cultivated extensively using an extraordinary system of terraced fields called andenes, many of which are still visible on the hillsides today. Crops here have been grown continuously for well over a thousand years: maize, potatoes (yes, the potato is Andean in origin — you’re welcome, the rest of the world), quinoa, and various varieties of produce that most supermarkets in Britain have only recently discovered and started charging a fortune for.
Deeper into the mountains the character of the landscape shifted entirely. The broad agricultural valley narrowed and steepened into canyon country, with sheer rock walls rising on either side of the Urubamba River, which the train follows closely for much of the route. The mountains above were enormous — vast, dark shapes looming up into cloud that refused to lift, their upper reaches entirely invisible. There was something slightly oppressive about it, in the way that very large things close up tend to be. One felt, not unpleasantly, very small indeed.
The railway line through this section is, by any measure, a remarkable piece of engineering. It was originally constructed in the early 20th century, with work beginning in earnest in the 1910s, and it required an almost absurd amount of human effort to blast and cut a route through terrain that had, for centuries, been accessible only on foot. The Inca themselves, of course, had managed perfectly well with an extensive network of trails — the famous Inca Trail being just one strand of what was a vast road system running the length of the empire — but they weren’t trying to run a railway, which requires rather more in the way of flat ground.
As we approached Aguas Calientes, something rather good happened: the clouds finally relented. They didn’t vanish entirely — this is cloud forest, after all, and the clue is somewhat in the name — but they lifted sufficiently to reveal the mountain tops that had been hiding above us for the entire journey. And they were, I’ll give them that, spectacularly, almost ridiculously high. The kind of high that makes you tilt your head back and still not quite be able to take it all in. Peaks disappearing into wisps of cloud, draped in dense green forest all the way up to where the rock finally gave up on supporting vegetation, the Urubamba River thundering away below us in the gorge.
It was, even for someone who’d been awake since an hour that should be illegal, really quite something.
Aguas Calientes itself — officially called Machu Picchu Pueblo, though nobody seems to call it that — is a small town that exists almost entirely because of the ruins above it. It sits at around 2,040 metres altitude, considerably lower than Cusco, which at least meant breathing felt more like a normal human activity again. The town grew up around the railway station, has no road access whatsoever, and is sustained entirely by the steady flow of tourists passing through on their way up to the site. It is not, if I’m being honest, a place of enormous independent charm — but after four hours on a train through the Andes at dawn, the prospect of a hot drink and something to eat made it feel, temporarily, rather wonderful.
🚂 Machu Picchu — Following Darwin Up the Mountain
We climbed off the train at Aguas Calientes — a rather optimistically named place, meaning “hot waters,” though it felt more like damp drizzle when we arrived. The town sits at the bottom of the Sacred Valley in southern Peru, at around 2,040 metres above sea level, and has existed largely as a staging post for Machu Picchu tourism since the early twentieth century. We dropped our bags with the bell hop at the hotel — always a relief — and went off to locate our guide.
His name was Darwin. I couldn’t make that up. Darwin, leading us to the ruins of one of the most sophisticated civilisations the ancient world ever produced. The irony wasn’t lost on me. He was, helpfully, dressed head to toe in bright yellow, which made finding him in a crowded artisan market considerably easier than it might otherwise have been. The market itself was the usual cheerful chaos of woven blankets, ceramic llamas and alpaca woolens that you find in every tourist town from Cusco to Puno — not unpleasant, just relentless.
Darwin led us down through the stalls to the bus stop, where we boarded one of the regular shuttle buses that have been ferrying tourists up to the site since the road was properly established in the 1940s. The journey takes about twenty minutes and covers the 400-odd metres of vertical climb — roughly 1,300 feet in old money — via a series of tight switchbacks cut into the mountainside. The road is not what you’d call wide. Karen had her eyes firmly shut for most of it, which I considered the sensible option given the rather spectacular drops off the unfenced edge. I kept mine open, partly out of stubbornness and partly because I thought someone ought to be watching. We arrived in one piece, which I regarded as a modest personal triumph.
Machu Picchu sits at 2,430 metres above sea level — about 7,970 feet — perched on a narrow ridge above the Urubamba River in the Cusco Region of Peru. It is, by almost any measure, a genuinely extraordinary place. The Incas built it around 1450 AD, almost certainly as a royal estate or religious retreat for the Inca emperor Pachacuti, who ruled from 1438 to 1471 and essentially transformed the Inca state from a modest kingdom into the largest empire in pre-Columbian America. At its height, the Inca Empire — known as Tawantinsuyu, meaning “the four regions” — stretched nearly 4,000 kilometres along the western edge of South America.
They abandoned Machu Picchu barely a hundred years after building it, around 1572, in the chaotic aftermath of the Spanish conquest. The Spanish, who arrived under Francisco Pizarro in 1532, had the rather tiresome habit of tearing down whatever they found and building Catholic churches on top of it. Cusco’s great Inca temple of Qorikancha, for instance, had a Dominican convent constructed directly over its foundations. Fortunately for us — and for history — they never actually found Machu Picchu. It sat quietly in the cloud forest, largely forgotten by the outside world, for roughly three and a half centuries.
It was an American historian and Yale lecturer named Hiram Bingham III who brought it to international attention in July 1911. He was led there by a local farmer, Melchor Arteaga, which is one of those facts that tends to get quietly shuffled to the back of the official story. Bingham went on to excavate the site and remove somewhere in the region of 40,000 artefacts, which ended up at Yale University and weren’t returned to Peru until 2012 following rather a lot of diplomatic unpleasantness. The classic photograph — the one on every poster and every guidebook cover — shows the ruins spread across the ridge with the steep peak of Huayna Picchu (meaning “young mountain” in Quechua) rising sharply behind them. It remains, I’ll grudgingly admit, one of the more arresting views on earth.
We had got off to a slow start that morning, with heavy cloud sitting low over everything. As these things sometimes go, however, the clouds broke just as we arrived and we were treated to clear skies for the duration. This felt undeserved but we accepted it gratefully.
Darwin proved to be an excellent guide. He walked us through the agricultural terraces, the residential districts, the Temple of the Sun, the Intihuatana stone — a carved ritual stone believed to have functioned as an astronomical clock or calendar — and the Room of the Three Windows, explaining the Inca understanding of duality, the agricultural calendar, and their sophisticated relationship with solar cycles. The Incas had no written language as we understand it, yet they managed to construct a site where the sunrise on the winter solstice aligns precisely through specific windows and doorways. Make of that what you will.
Darwin’s particular enthusiasm, delivered with great theatrical energy, was for the concept of duality — what he called, in a drawn-out and rather wonderful pronunciation, “dooooaaality.” The idea that everything in the Inca worldview existed in complementary pairs: sun and moon, male and female, upper and lower worlds. It became, inevitably, our favourite word of the trip.
The tour took an hour and a half. Even by the end of it, after everything we had seen over the previous weeks in Peru, we were still standing there slightly open-mouthed. Some places earn their reputation. This is one of them.
No worries — I don’t actually need the image for this task. Here’s the rewritten blog post excerpt:
🥾 The Sun Gate, the Swiss and a Shaking Hand
We now had a few hours to ourselves and, after a quick bite to eat, we decided to walk a stretch of the Inca Trail — the extraordinary ancient road network built by the Inca Empire, largely during the reign of the Sapa Inca Pachacuti in the mid-fifteenth century, which at its peak extended some 25,000 miles across the Andes. Quite a commute. Our ambitions, I should say immediately, were considerably more modest than those of the empire that built it.
Our goal was simply to reach the Inti-Pata — the so-called Sun Gate, or Intipunku to give it its proper Quechua name — a ceremonial gateway perched on a mountain ridge roughly a mile or so from the main ruins of Machu Picchu. In Inca times, this was the principal entrance to the citadel for travellers arriving along the classic trail from Cusco, some 50 miles to the north-east. Pilgrims, messengers and llamas had all trooped through here for centuries before a certain Hiram Bingham stumbled upon the ruins in 1911 and told the world about them. We were, in short, following well-worn footsteps.
The path was a steady uphill climb — narrow, with steep drops on the side that I tried very hard not to think about — and it was not made any easier by the altitude. Though I kept reminding myself we were only at around 8,000 feet above sea level, which is apparently nothing to write home about in Andean terms. My lungs were not entirely in agreement with that assessment. The altitude at Machu Picchu is, in fact, considered relatively gentle compared to Cusco, which sits at over 11,000 feet. Small comfort when your legs feel like wet cement.
The views, however, were genuinely staggering. The kind that make you stop, stare, and briefly forget that your knees are protesting loudly.
At the Sun Gate itself we got talking to a very pleasant young Swiss fellow called Christian. He was in the middle of a rather extended solo tour of South America and, as he explained quite openly, his reasons for being there were largely cathartic — he was doing his level best to put a recently ended relationship firmly behind him. Which, frankly, seemed as good a reason as any to walk up a mountain in Peru. I’ve heard worse.
There was, however, a slight complication. Christian was afraid of heights. This is, I think we can all agree, a particularly unfortunate phobia to have when you’re standing at a stone gateway on the side of an Andean ridge with a near-vertical drop a few feet away. To help him navigate his way back down, Karen and I fell into step alongside him and kept up a steady stream of conversation — anything to keep his mind off the scenery below. We covered the state of modern education at some length, and Christian’s own career as an Art Advisor to private collectors, which turned out to be rather fascinating, if you’ll forgive the admission from someone who once bought a framed print from a motorway service station.
At one point, Karen — who has her own perfectly reasonable reservations about heights — forgot her own nerves entirely as she reached over and held Christian’s shaking hand to steady him on a particularly narrow section.
Which, I thought, was rather wonderful.
🏨 Alpaca for Dinner — What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
Sadly, it was time to drag ourselves away from the ruins. We made our way back down to Agua Calientes — the small, rather chaotic town that sits at the foot of Machu Picchu like an afterthought. The place has only existed in any real sense since the late 20th century, having grown up almost entirely to service the tourist trade, which probably explains why it feels like someone designed it in a hurry on a Friday afternoon.
Our next task was to locate the hotel and, more importantly, our luggage. This took a bit of doing, but a helpful local security guard pointed us in the right direction, which was decent of him. The hotel rejoiced in the name of the Inti Inn — Inti being the Inca sun god, no less, worshipped for centuries as the divine father of the Inca civilisation. Whether the Inca sun god would have approved of the Inti Inn is another matter entirely.
The room was on the fifth floor. There was, naturally, no lift. I’m a reasonably fit man, but by the time we reached the top I was making noises normally associated with elderly boilers. The room itself was, shall we say, functional. Basic would be generous. Still, we were only there for one night, so we took the philosophical view, turned straight around and went out for something to eat.
We had a voucher for a local restaurant, which we located without too much drama. It was still fairly early in the evening, but we were absolutely done in, and we weren’t entirely confident that Agua Calientes operates on a particularly late-night schedule — it doesn’t really strike you as a place buzzing with midnight energy — so we sat ourselves down and ordered.
Now, wanting to make the most of being in Peru, we decided to try something genuinely local. The menu offered grilled alpaca, which felt like the right sort of adventurous decision. Emily, it has to be said, could not bring herself to go there, and fair enough. The alpaca, for the record, has been central to Andean life for thousands of years — domesticated by pre-Inca peoples around 6,000 years ago in the high Andes, prized for both their wool and their meat long before the Inca Empire rose to prominence in the 13th century. So historically speaking, we were eating well.
We had also briefly considered the other local speciality: guinea pig, or cuy as it’s known in Peru, which has been eaten in the Andes since at least 5,000 BC and is still considered a celebratory dish. However, the menu showed it served whole — head, legs, the full ensemble — staring up at you from the plate with what I can only describe as quiet reproach. We decided, unanimously and without much debate, that we were not quite ready for that level of culinary commitment. The alpaca it was.
Whilst we waited for the food, we were treated to a live performance by a local group called Inka Swing, who played traditional Andean music. Panpipes, charangos, the works. It was genuinely lovely, and exactly the sort of thing you hope for but don’t always get.
The food arrived eventually. The alpaca, if I’m honest, was a touch on the dry side. Not unpleasant, just not quite the revelation one might have hoped for. But that’s the thing — you have to try these things, don’t you? You can’t go all the way to Peru and order the pasta.
After that we shuffled back to the Inti Inn, climbed the five flights of stairs for the second time that day, and collapsed into bed. We were asleep before we’d finished the thought.
☁️ Cloud, Tin Roofs, and the Uncomfortable Truth
The following morning, the weather decided it had been far too kind to us the day before and promptly set about making amends. The clouds had come down overnight and settled themselves firmly into the valley like uninvited guests who had no intention of leaving. This was, after all, the rainy season in the Peruvian Andes — roughly November through March — so we had absolutely no right to be surprised. And yet, somehow, we were.
Visibility was poor, I won’t pretend otherwise. But there was something genuinely otherworldly about standing there watching great slow ribbons of cloud weave themselves between the green peaks like something out of a Tolkien novel. This entire ecosystem has a proper name for it — Cloud Forest, or Bosque de Neblina as the locals call it — and on this particular morning it was living up to the billing with considerable enthusiasm. The Cloud Forest sits at roughly 2,000 to 3,500 metres above sea level in the eastern Andean slopes, and it’s one of the most biodiverse places on the planet. Not that any of that helped with the visibility, mind you.
The one small mercy was that this was not our Machu Picchu day. Had it been, I suspect the mood at breakfast would have been considerably darker. Machu Picchu — the great 15th-century Inca citadel that sat undiscovered by the outside world until Hiram Bingham III stumbled upon it in 1911 — deserves blue skies. Shrouded in thick cloud, it would have felt like paying good money to look at a grey blanket. We had dodged that particular bullet, at least.
From our room on the fifth floor of the hotel, we looked out across the rooftops of Aguas Calientes — the small town that serves as the base camp for Machu Picchu tourism and which has the slightly chaotic energy of a place that grew far faster than anyone planned for. The view was not exactly what the travel brochures tend to feature. Below us stretched a jumble of corrugated tin roofs in various states of optimism, many of them held down not by bolts or proper fixings but simply by large cinder blocks plonked on top. It is, as construction techniques go, refreshingly straightforward.
The poverty was plain to see and impossible to ignore. Aguas Calientes — officially renamed Machu Picchu Pueblo in 2016, though nobody seems to have got the memo — sits at around 2,040 metres in a narrow river valley and has a population of only a few thousand permanent residents. It is only reachable by train or on foot, which makes it both charmingly isolated and eye-wateringly expensive to supply. The contrast between the crumbling rooftops and the well-heeled tourists wandering the streets below — many of whom had spent several thousand dollars or more just getting themselves to this corner of south-eastern Peru — was rather stark and not entirely comfortable to sit with over a morning coffee.
The uncomfortable truth, of course, is that without tourism, life here would be genuinely hard. The Inca Trail alone draws tens of thousands of visitors each year, and the wider Machu Picchu site — a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1983 — pulls in close to a million tourists annually, generating a significant chunk of Peru’s tourism revenue. The town exists, essentially, because of that one extraordinary ruin up on the mountain. Take the tourists away and you’re left with a very small, very remote settlement with limited options. It’s the sort of economic dependency that makes you feel slightly guilty for being there, and slightly guiltier still for enjoying yourself.
We watched the clouds roll in a bit more, finished our coffee, and said nothing particularly profound about any of it.
🌡️ Hot Springs, Inca Artefacts, and a Fashion Show on a Train
We hadn’t planned much for the morning, which was something of a relief after the route marches of the previous few days. My legs had been staging a quiet protest since Machu Picchu, and the rest of the group weren’t in much better shape. We had a few hours to burn before our afternoon train back to Cusco, so someone — quite sensibly, as it turned out — suggested the hot springs.
Aguas Calientes, which translates rather handily as “Hot Waters,” has been drawing weary travellers to its thermal baths for centuries. The town itself sits at around 2,040 metres above sea level in a steep-sided gorge, and the springs that give it its name are fed by geothermal activity deep beneath the Andes — the same volcanic forces that have been reshaping this part of South America for millions of years. The Incas, who were no fools when it came to making themselves comfortable, had known about and used these waters long before the Spanish arrived in the 1530s to complicate everything.
It was a short walk up the hill to reach the baths — a series of large, open-air pools cut into the rock of the ravine, not unlike a Turkish hammam, though considerably more scenic and with better views of the surrounding jungle. The water was warm, mineral-rich, and apparently good for what ails you, which in our case was a collection of aching muscles and the general indignity of being middle-aged and unfit. I’m pleased to report it genuinely helped. We soaked alongside a good number of locals and fellow tourists, and if anyone looked faintly ridiculous bobbing about in a Peruvian ravine, I chose not to dwell on it.
🏛️ Along the Urubamba — Museums and Mince
Refreshed and considerably less creaky, we decided to walk down the valley to the local museum, which holds a collection of artefacts recovered from Machu Picchu. The path took us along the banks of the Urubamba River — or Willkamayu, “Sacred River,” as the Incas called it — which was running fast, brown, and rather alarmingly full, swollen by rain from the mountains above. This is no gentle English chalk stream. The Urubamba is a serious piece of water, a major tributary of the Amazon, and those churning brown waters would eventually find their way some 5,000 kilometres east to the Atlantic Ocean. Puts the Thames in perspective somewhat.
The museum, the Museo de Sitio Manuel Chávez Ballón — named after the Peruvian archaeologist who spent decades studying the Machu Picchu site from the 1960s onwards — sits a mile or so outside town, across a bridge over the river, with a small botanical garden attached. The artefacts on display included ceramics, tools, and textiles recovered during excavations, and the exhibits did a decent job of explaining how Inca society actually functioned: their agricultural engineering, their remarkable stonework (fitted together without mortar, and still standing after five centuries of earthquakes), and the sophisticated system of roads and relay runners that held their empire together. We emerged about an hour later noticeably better informed, which I always consider a reasonable return on a museum visit.
🐱 The Cat, the Menu, and the Miced Meat
Back in town, we sat down for lunch at one of the many small restaurants that line the streets of Aguas Calientes. The food was perfectly acceptable — the kind of straightforward Peruvian fare that has kept people going at altitude for generations. What was rather more entertaining was the menu signage on the restaurant across the street, which offered, among its specialities, “stuffed capsicum with miced meat.”
Now, I’m in no position to mock anyone’s English, given that my Spanish extends to “por favor,” “gracias,” and pointing at things hopefully. But “miced meat” was a delight. Sitting directly beneath this sign was a large and extremely relaxed-looking cat, apparently contemplating the menu with some interest. You could practically see it licking its lips. Whether the cat was a customer or an ingredient was not entirely clear.
🚂 The Train Home — Volcanoes, Dancing, and Alpaca Couture
After a quick visit to the artisan market — where I successfully acquired several items I didn’t need and failed to haggle adequately — we boarded the train back to Cusco. PeruRail operates this route through the Sacred Valley, and it’s a genuinely impressive journey: the track threads through some of the most spectacular mountain scenery on earth.
On our outward journey the day before, the mountains had been largely hidden in cloud, which was a shame. On the return, the weather cleared enough to reveal them in something approaching their full absurdity — enormous, snow-capped volcanoes looming above the valley, some topping 5,000 metres (roughly 16,000 feet), their peaks catching the late afternoon light. The Andes formed around 25 million years ago as the Nazca tectonic plate pushed beneath the South American continent, and looking at them you can well believe it was a violent process.
The train company, to its credit, had laid on some entertainment for the four-hour journey. First up was a traditional dance performance — a man in an elaborate costume, wearing what I can only describe as a deeply unsettling ceremonial mask and carrying a stuffed lamb. It was the sort of thing that would cause considerable alarm on the 7:42 from Guildford to Waterloo, but here it was apparently quite normal. The dance was rooted in Andean folk tradition, the kind of performance that has been part of Quechua cultural life for centuries, and it was genuinely engaging — though the stuffed lamb remained difficult to explain.
Then, just when we thought proceedings couldn’t get any more surreal, the carriage transformed into a fashion show. The aisle became a catwalk. The train staff became models. The garments on offer — jumpers, scarves, ponchos — were made from alpaca wool, which has been woven in the Andes for at least 6,000 years and remains one of Peru’s most important exports. The clothes were actually rather good. I didn’t buy anything, obviously, because I am British and the entire situation was far too much social pressure.
It was, all told, a bizarre and thoroughly entertaining way to pass four hours. We rolled back into a cold and very wet Cusco as evening fell, tired, well-fed, and marginally more informed about Inca civilisation than we’d been that morning. I’ve had worse days.
Planning your visit to Machu Picchu
📍 Location
Machu Picchu is a 15th-century Inca citadel situated high in the Andes Mountains of Peru, in the Urubamba Province of the Cusco region. The site sits at approximately 2,430 metres above sea level, at the point where the Andes and the Amazon rainforest meet. The nearest town is Aguas Calientes (also known as Machu Picchu Pueblo), which lies at the base of the mountain at around 2,040 metres above sea level and serves as the main gateway to the citadel. Cusco, the historic Inca capital and the principal jumping-off point for most visitors, lies approximately 75 kilometres to the southeast. Today, Machu Picchu is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, drawing well over a million visitors each year.
🚗 Getting There by Car
It is important to understand from the outset that there is no direct road access to Aguas Calientes or to the Machu Picchu citadel itself. The mountainous geography and narrow river valleys of the cloud forest make it impossible to drive all the way to the site. However, a significant portion of the journey can be made by car, with the remainder completed on foot.
The most popular route for those travelling by car is via Hidroeléctrica, a hydroelectric plant located near Aguas Calientes. Departing from Cusco, the drive takes approximately six to seven hours and passes through spectacular Andean scenery, cloud forests, and traditional villages. The classic route runs: Cusco – Ollantaytambo – Santa Teresa – Hidroeléctrica. An alternative route goes via Abra Málaga and Santa María, which offers more diverse landscapes and fewer other vehicles on the road, reaching a maximum altitude of around 4,316 metres at the Abra Málaga pass.
From Cusco, it is recommended to set off early in the morning. The road passes through Ollantaytambo, a town with its own impressive Inca ruins and a good place to stop for breakfast. Continuing through Santa María and then Santa Teresa, you eventually reach Hidroeléctrica, where you must leave your vehicle. From Hidroeléctrica, it is a relatively flat walk of around two to three kilometres along the train tracks to reach Aguas Calientes.
Given the narrow, winding, and often steep mountain roads involved, hiring a local driver who knows the terrain well is strongly advisable, particularly for those unfamiliar with mountain driving. A 4×4 vehicle is recommended for safety and comfort, and it is essential to ensure your vehicle is in good mechanical condition, with brakes, tyres, and lights checked before setting out. Roads can deteriorate significantly during the rainy season, and landslides are a real possibility, so checking weather forecasts before departure is important.
🚌 Getting Around
Once in Aguas Calientes, there are two ways to reach the entrance of the Machu Picchu citadel. The most popular option is the official shuttle bus service, operated exclusively by Consettur Machupicchu S.A.C. Buses depart from Avenida Hermanos Ayar in Aguas Calientes and run continuously, taking approximately 25 to 30 minutes along a winding, switchback road up the mountain. Bus tickets can be purchased online in advance or in person in Aguas Calientes, and pre-booking is strongly advisable during busy periods to avoid lengthy queues.
The alternative is to hike up on foot. The trail follows stone steps and a dirt path from the valley floor up to the citadel entrance, taking around one and a half to two and a half hours to ascend. It is a moderately challenging but rewarding route. Many visitors choose to take the bus up and walk back down, which takes around an hour and a half and is considerably less strenuous.
Inside the citadel itself, movement is strictly controlled. Visitors must follow one of the designated circuits, which are assigned at the time of ticket purchase. There are currently three main circuits, each offering access to different areas of the site, and switching between circuits once inside is not permitted. Staying on your assigned route is obligatory.
⚠️ Things to Be Aware Of
Altitude
Machu Picchu sits at 2,430 metres above sea level. While this is lower than Cusco (approximately 3,400 metres), altitude sickness can still affect visitors. Common symptoms include shortness of breath, headaches, nausea, and loss of appetite. It is strongly recommended to spend at least one or two days in Cusco before visiting Machu Picchu to allow your body to acclimatise. Staying well hydrated, avoiding alcohol and strenuous activity on your first day at altitude, and eating lightly all help. Coca leaves, available locally, are a traditional Andean remedy and are widely used to ease symptoms.
Booking Tickets in Advance
Entry to Machu Picchu is strictly controlled and visitor numbers are capped. During peak season (May to September), a maximum of 5,600 visitors per day is permitted, reducing to 4,500 during the low season. All tickets must be purchased in advance through the official platform — there are no on-site ticket sales. Tickets are non-refundable and cannot be cancelled, so it is essential to choose your circuit carefully before booking. Entry is only permitted during your specified time slot, and tickets are linked to the circuit and date selected.
Rules and Regulations
Machu Picchu is a protected heritage site and a sacred place of great cultural significance to the Peruvian people. The rules are strictly enforced, and violations can result in immediate expulsion from the site without a refund. Serious offences such as vandalism or damaging structures can lead to substantial fines and even criminal charges carrying custodial sentences.
Visitors must not climb, sit, lean against, or touch any of the Inca walls, terraces, or structures. Touching and rubbing against stonework is prohibited. Graffiti or any form of defacement is strictly forbidden and treated as a serious criminal matter.
Smoking, vaping, and the use of any open flame inside the citadel is prohibited. Bringing food into the site is not allowed, and single-use plastic water bottles are banned — visitors are required to bring water in a reusable container. Umbrellas are not permitted inside; a rain poncho is the appropriate alternative for wet weather. Large backpacks (exceeding 40 x 35 x 20 centimetres) are not allowed, and bags are checked at the entrance.
Tripods, selfie sticks, and camera stabilisers are prohibited. Drones may not be operated without advance authorisation from the Ministry of Culture, which must be requested at least two months in advance. Commercial photography and filming require prior authorisation.
Visitors must not feed any animals, including the llamas that freely roam the site. Do not attempt to pet or approach them closely, as they can bite, spit, and carry parasites.
Shouting, whistling, clapping, or making excessive noise is forbidden, as is using musical instruments, megaphones, or speakers. The site is treated as a place of reverence and contemplation, and all visitors are expected to behave accordingly.
Entering the site under the influence of alcohol or drugs results in denial of entry. Wearing costumes, lying on the ground, undressing, or behaving in a manner deemed contrary to public decency also results in removal from the site.
Cultural Sensitivity
Machu Picchu holds deep spiritual and cultural significance for the Peruvian people and for indigenous Andean communities. Visitors should approach the site with appropriate respect. Dress modestly, particularly if entering temple areas. When interacting with local people in Aguas Calientes or along the way, asking permission before taking photographs is considered polite and courteous.
The Inca culture, its history, and its spiritual traditions are central to the identity of the Cusco region. Engaging the services of a licensed guide is a worthwhile way to deepen your understanding of the site and to ensure your visit is conducted in a respectful and informed manner. Guides must hold official credentials issued by the Ministry of Culture. Be cautious of unlicensed individuals offering guide services at the entrance, as this is illegal and subject to prosecution.
Best time to visit Machu Picchu
🌤️ Dry Season: May to October
The dry season is widely regarded as the most popular and reliable time to explore Machu Picchu. Skies are generally clear, rainfall is minimal, and the mountain trails are at their most accessible. Temperatures during the day hover between 12°C and 20°C at the site itself, though nights can be cold. June, July, and August are peak months, drawing large crowds — so advance booking of entry tickets, which are strictly limited, is absolutely essential.
The winter solstice period around 21st June holds particular cultural significance, with Inti Raymi (the Festival of the Sun) celebrated in nearby Cusco with dramatic spectacle. Visibility is exceptional during these months, making sunrise at the Sun Gate (Intipunku) one of the most rewarding experiences on offer.
What to pack: Lightweight, moisture-wicking layers, a warm fleece or down jacket for early mornings and evenings, waterproof windbreaker, sturdy broken-in hiking boots, sun hat, high-SPF sunscreen, insect repellent, and a reusable water bottle. Altitude sickness remedies (such as coca leaf tea or medication) are advisable — Cusco sits at 3,400m.
🌧️ Wet Season: November to April
The wet season brings daily rainfall, particularly in the afternoons, and the famous cloud forest earns its name with dramatic mists swirling across the ruins. Whilst conditions can be unpredictable, this period has its own undeniable magic — the vegetation is lush and vibrantly green, waterfalls are thunderous, and crowd levels drop significantly. Prices for accommodation and tours are notably lower.
January and February are the wettest months, and the Inca Trail closes entirely in February for maintenance. Landslides can occasionally disrupt rail access to Aguas Calientes, so flexibility in travel plans is wise. That said, mornings are often clear before the clouds roll in.
What to pack: A high-quality waterproof rain jacket (essential — not just a packable one), waterproof trousers, gaiters for muddy trails, quick-dry clothing, waterproof bag covers or dry bags for electronics, and extra dry socks. Leech socks are useful on jungle trails. Sturdy, waterproof hiking boots are non-negotiable.
🌸 Shoulder Season: April and November
April and November offer a pleasing middle ground. Rainfall begins to ease in April and the site is noticeably less crowded than peak summer months, yet conditions are generally favourable enough for comfortable exploration. November marks the end of the wet season, with improving weather and good trail conditions. These months are particularly well-suited to those wanting the balance of decent weather, manageable crowds, and better value.
The Inca Trail reopens in late March after its February closure, making late March to April an excellent window for trekkers. Orchids and wildflowers are frequently in bloom during shoulder months, adding to the scenery considerably.
What to pack: Versatile layering system (base, mid, and outer layers), a packable rain jacket, light trousers convertible to shorts, sun protection, and broken-in trekking poles. A mix of warm and cool-weather clothing gives you the flexibility needed for changeable days.
🗓️ Overall Best Time to Visit
For most travellers, late May through early October represents the sweet spot for visiting Machu Picchu. The dry season delivers the reliable clear skies, well-maintained trails, and sweeping views that make the experience truly unforgettable. Within that window, late May, early June, and September stand out as particularly ideal — the weather is excellent, the days are long, and you’ll encounter slightly fewer visitors than during the July and August peak. If you’re planning to hike the Inca Trail, booking several months in advance is not merely advisable, it is an absolute necessity, as daily permits are strictly capped. Those who can travel with flexibility and don’t mind the rain may find the wet season’s moody atmosphere and deserted ruins deeply rewarding in its own right — but for first-time visitors seeking the classic Machu Picchu experience, the dry season remains the undisputed choice.
Where to stay near Machu Picchu
1. SUMAQ MACHU PICCHU HOTEL (5-STAR)
With a privileged location at the Urubamba River and only 20 minutes from the famous Machu Picchu Archaeological Site, this 5-star hotel offers comfort, elegance and relaxation, in Andean Design. Free WiFi access is available.
Peruvian Gastronomy is served at the à la carte Qunuq Restaurant. In addition, guests can have their drinks at the Suquy Cafe & Bar.
2. SUSANNA INN MACHU PICCHU HOTEL
3. PANORAMA B&B
Featuring a complimentary buffet breakfast, free WiFi access and located only 650 feet from the town market, Panorama B&B offers accommodations in Machu Picchu.
Rooms here are all fitted with a wardrobe, a private bathroom with free toiletries and 24-hour hot water, a flat-screen TV with cable channels, towels and a spectacular panoramic mountain and river view. Larger rooms, such as the twin or triple rooms feature a private balcony.
4. SUPERTRAMP HOSTEL
Located in Machu Picchu, Supertramp Hostel Machupicchu is near a train station and near the boardwalk. Local points of interest include Aguas Calientes Hot Springs, Historic Sanctuary of Machu Picchu, and Cerro Machupicchu.
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