Hiking The Inca Trail, Machu Picchu, and Baseball

This post is only tangentially related to baseball. It’s mostly about my experience hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu last week. But there are some baseball thoughts because baseball is never far from my mind.

The Inca Trail trek was the most challenging physical activity I’ve ever completed. It was harder than giving birth (particularly because I ended with with two C-sections). It was more difficult than hiking the Corfu Trail over 11 days in 2022 and more difficult than trekking in Nepal for 7 days in 1999, when I was a much younger woman.

I’ll get to the challenging part in a bit, but first, the rewards.

Not just the reward of finishing something so difficult. But the reward of being high up in the Andes Mountains with my husband and two close friends. We planned the trip as a joint birthday celebration, as three of the four of us will turn a big round number this year. Preparing for and getting through the trek together brought us to tears from laughter and angst and made us hunger for the next big adventure.

We were also rewarded with a deep education about the history and language of the Incan people and the pre-Incan people who lived–and continue to populate–the peaks and valleys of the Andean mountains. Our guide Edwin from Inkayni Peru Tours brought the mountains and the people alive in a way no travel book can. We are so grateful to Edwin, the head chef Mario, and the other eight porters who did the very difficult work of carrying all the gear up and down the mountain–clothes, tents, a makeshift kitchen, food, etc.

The Inca Trail is 25 miles but that doesn’t tell the story.  Look at the below trail map provided by our tour company, Inkayni (You must hike the Inca Trail with a licensed guide and porters. Only 500 people can begin the trail each day).

We started Day 1 at about 8,500 feet and ended the day at 9,800 feet. Inkayni labeled this day as “moderate” and compared to Days 2 & 3 it certainly was. We tackled one big climb—a test run for the 4,000 feet elevation gain on Day 2. Hikers who struggle on Day 1 are sent back down the mountain with a porter or guide. I passed that test pretty easily & was feeling confident going into Day 2’s steep ascent up to the summit at Dead Women’s Pass. (The name apparently comes from a rock formation you can see from the backside of the summit. We, rightfully, re-named it Powerful Woman Resting Pass).

That was misplaced confidence.

On Day 2, we climbed from 9,800 feet to 13,800 over 4 miles or so. I didn’t do the math, but that is very steep. Plus, you’re losing oxygen in the air as you climb. I gasped for breath & had to stop every minute or so. It was grueling.

I had never experienced—much less hiked at—altitudes above 9,500 feet. Oh boy, do I struggle at that elevation, even with 5 days in Cusco to acclimate & prescribed altitude sickness medication. Perhaps the medicine helped stave off the headaches, dizziness, and nausea that can come at high altitude. But it didn’t make the air any richer in oxygen as we climbed.

Another big challenge for me was the terrain—steep stone steps going up and down. I had struggled with this in Nepal, but I have better gear now—grippy hiking boots & shock-absorbing hiking poles—and I thought they would ease my path more than they did.

The stones kicked my ass over & over. I need to research why the Incas, a people of relatively short stature, built a trail of such steep stone steps.

Even on the relatively flat or gently rolling sections, the trails were constructed with rocks of varying materials & sizes. When we faced an hour of hail on the way down from Dead Women’s Pass to our campground, it took all of my mental & physical energy to avoid slipping & falling down the mountain.

That’s where baseball came in.

When I’m hiking a difficult trail or having trouble falling asleep, I think about baseball as a way to distract my mind so I don’t focus on negative thoughts. It’s a little trick my oldest brother taught me when we trekked the Routeburn Track in New Zealand in 1993.

I start by listing in my mind all of the teams in each division, in order of how they finished the recent season, and what ballpark they play in. Then move on to World Series matchups & winners in reverse chronological order. After that, Cy Young & MVP winners in reverse chronological order, and so on.

For some reason, I couldn’t remember that the Cincinnati Reds play at Great American Ballpark. Focusing on that little detail helped me through some slippery trail sections, for sure.

Day 3 really tested me. We hiked for 11 consecutive hours, stopping only for a short lunch. The day featured two climbs up and over the second and third mountain passes and then a 3,000 foot descent to the campground. We reached the campsite just as the sun was setting behind the mountains. 

The unrelenting stone steps kicked my butt, again.

We were awakened on Day 4 at 3:45 am, as the other hiking groups lined up at the checkpoint so they could reach the Sun Gate at Machu Picchu at sunrise. We had opted to sleep in that day to 6:00 am, a leisurely start compared to the 4:00 am or 5:00 am wake-up calls we suffered through on Days 1-3. That was a good decision, as the morning greeted us with clouds, drizzle, and fog. The early risers didn’t see the sunrise after all.

We hiked about 3.5 miles from the last campground to the Sun Gate. The very last bit of trail before the Sun Gate had us—literally—crawling on hands and knees over rocks to the top of ridge.

From there, it was another mile or so down to Machu Picchu itself.

We did it. We hiked the Inca Trail!

Machu Picchu blew me away. I’ve now added it it to the very short list of places I’ve visited that far exceeded my expectations. The list is now Machu Picchu and the Taj Mahal. If you have the chance to see one or both, do it.

Whatever photos you’ve seen of Machu Picchu, they simply cannot capture how mystical and beautiful the Incan city is. The buildings that have been uncovered and, to some extent, restored sit between three mountains—one to the north, one to the east, one to the south. These Andean peaks rise up narrowly and covered in lush trees, creating an other-worldly panorama. The weather is ever-changing, with clouds, fog, and sun dancing across the landscape.

It’s the perfect place to quiet your mind and contemplate your place in the universe.

Unfortunately, too many people visiting Machu Picchu these days are more focused on creating the perfect Instagram reel or Tik Tok video. Visitors line up for the perfect photo angle, dressed in newly-bought Andean textiles, and strike whatever pose is the most popular on social media.

It’s not just Machu Picchu. This sort of influencer tourism is everywhere now. I suppose it bothered me more at Machu Picchu because I was feeling meditative and spiritual but was surrounded by clicking cameras and demanding photo divas.

Sometimes, that’s how I feel at the ballpark. I just want to sit back and watch the intricate choreography of a ballgame. I don’t need blaring lights or exhortations to clap or sing. For me, it’s the beauty of the game.

See, everything does come back to baseball.