While the oldest and youngest Vances were off to Machu Picchu for the day, Debby and I headed out for a second attempt to asend to the rock quarry, source for the temple of Ollantaytambo. Last August we set out for the same destination on the backs of horses but never made it (read the full account in the blog history). This time we set off on foot, again following the lead of Wilder, our trusty guide. The distance of the quarry to the town and temple of Ollantaytambo is incredible and the task of transporting these massive stones down the mountain and across the Urabamba river, awesome. We started off in the mercado to purchase queso, palta, pan choclo and coca for our hike and then headed off, crossing the river and starting our climb. It was nice to be on the same trail, this time during the wet season, with new varieties of plant & wildflowers in bloom. We climbed on at a gradual grade but we knew that steep terrain lay ahead. On the trail above one of the few shabby, mudbrick homes we would pass a boy came up to meet us, I recognized him fromth our previous trip and again Wilder was ready for him with some fruit out of his bag just as he given last August. Once again I was impressed with the compassion, kindness and s
ense of community shown to us here. We climbed on and soon our hearts started to pound and legs burn as the gradual grade gave way to switchbacks and I had to crane my neck to see the trail above us. For a moment I wished for a horse but that was a different misery altogether and I climbed on under my own steam. Even after a month and a half in Cusco and feeling fully aclimated to the altitude this was a strenous activity. We stopped often to catch our breath while Wilder marched on seemingly unafected by the terain. At one point our guide disapeared above me for a while and then I heard the sweet tune of his quena (andean flute)beconning us on. Shortly after we arived at the base of the massive rock slide that had come from the jagged peak above us centuries ago. It was these bolders that the Inkas were cutting and transporting 2-3 miles down to Ollantantaytambo. We could see the tiny tiny temple 1300 feet below us and across the river.... amazing. Many cut and rough shaped stones still lay where they were left when building was halted and the Inka focus shifted to survival. Col
umns of solid granit, 20 inch square by 16 feet in length lay abandoned, along with massive bolders showing signs of score lines and preliminary cuts. We continued on, leaving any sign of a trail, climbing over and around bolders until Wilder stopped at the entrance to a very small cave under a large bolder. It was a burial site still filled with 20 or so bodies. The skeleton of the guardian to the cave remained intact at the entrance, but the bones of the others inside were scattered among the floor - the result of grave robbers some time ago. Wilder knew of many other graves similar but undisturbed in this area and it was nice to know that some ancient, sacred sites existed only to the local community. Before leaving we all offered coca leaves to those inside and Wilder left a burning stick of palo santo wood. After visiting several cemeteries on our trip - this common grave, off the beaten track and high above civilization felt grander than the intricately carved mosoleums of Recoleta.
ense of community shown to us here. We climbed on and soon our hearts started to pound and legs burn as the gradual grade gave way to switchbacks and I had to crane my neck to see the trail above us. For a moment I wished for a horse but that was a different misery altogether and I climbed on under my own steam. Even after a month and a half in Cusco and feeling fully aclimated to the altitude this was a strenous activity. We stopped often to catch our breath while Wilder marched on seemingly unafected by the terain. At one point our guide disapeared above me for a while and then I heard the sweet tune of his quena (andean flute)beconning us on. Shortly after we arived at the base of the massive rock slide that had come from the jagged peak above us centuries ago. It was these bolders that the Inkas were cutting and transporting 2-3 miles down to Ollantantaytambo. We could see the tiny tiny temple 1300 feet below us and across the river.... amazing. Many cut and rough shaped stones still lay where they were left when building was halted and the Inka focus shifted to survival. Col
umns of solid granit, 20 inch square by 16 feet in length lay abandoned, along with massive bolders showing signs of score lines and preliminary cuts. We continued on, leaving any sign of a trail, climbing over and around bolders until Wilder stopped at the entrance to a very small cave under a large bolder. It was a burial site still filled with 20 or so bodies. The skeleton of the guardian to the cave remained intact at the entrance, but the bones of the others inside were scattered among the floor - the result of grave robbers some time ago. Wilder knew of many other graves similar but undisturbed in this area and it was nice to know that some ancient, sacred sites existed only to the local community. Before leaving we all offered coca leaves to those inside and Wilder left a burning stick of palo santo wood. After visiting several cemeteries on our trip - this common grave, off the beaten track and high above civilization felt grander than the intricately carved mosoleums of Recoleta.
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