THE SALKANTAY TREK
- Joelle McDonald
- Jul 15
- 18 min read
The Salkantay Trek is a multi-day hiking route of about 46 miles that goes over through the mountains, over Salkantay Pass, past glaciers, and through jungle very near to the Amazon's edge, ultimately ending at the foot of Machu Picchu. It has gained popularity recently as an alternative to the Inca Trail hike to Machu Picchu, which must be booked far in advance and is supposedly crowded. Hannah and I love mountains, so we were more drawn to Salkantay for the views alone. Ultimately, we would have had to do the Salkantay trek anyway because we book just a few months in advance.
The day before our hike started, we had a briefing where our guide and group met for the first time. We went over what to expect from each day and were given the small duffel bags the company would transport from camp to camp for us by horse or car. Each of us were allowed that small duffel plus our day pack and the tour company stored all our other luggage. We were also given a roll of toilet paper a person... it is BYO TP nearly everywhere along the trail.
Our morning pick-up time and order is determined, and we are sent on our way to prepare. It is a rough night. It was already past 6:00 when we left the meeting, and we still needed to eat dinner, repack all of our hiking stuff, shower, sleep, and be at our meeting point by 4:00 AM. It's fair to say everyone in our group started our trek tired.
Day 1 - Hiking to Humantay Lake
Our 4:00 AM pickup came brutally fast. We tried to rest in the car, but it was a bumpy and curve ride. At the edge of Cusco, our van stopped at what seemed like a garage for a well orchestrated exchange of our group's extra luggage for two large sacks of rations, a chef (Urbano), and an assistant chef. We were very impressed at how well oiled this complicated logistical exchange was, which foreshadowed how well organized the rest of our week would be.
We stop again at a concrete building in a tiny town about an hour later for breakfast. Thankfully, this meal was cooked by a local family and not our group's chef because they didn't nail our dietary restrictions and Hannah and I feared we may be hiking for four days on granola bars.
Another hour of driving later and we were dropped off on the side of a dusty road. A small bathroom and snack shed clearly positioned themselves well for hikers starting their journey. Everyone sunscreens up and laced their shoes, ready to begin. Our guide tells us the first ten minutes are his test to see how fit the group is, and we quickly realize why. We take off going straight up an incredibly steep mountain side. Some switchbacks are carved in it, but even the switchbacks could have switchbacks. Hannah and I are huffing and puffing only a few meters in. Thankfully, we keep pace with the group. We pause every so often to regroup and every time we do, S—who was in great shape and very patiently taking up the rear of the group—would yell a new idea for our team name as soon as he rejoined the group. No such thing as a team without a name!
Finally, we make it to the top of our climb straight up the mountainside and join a relatively flat path cut horizontally across the mountain, stretching back into the valley. Along the path, a small irrigation canal runs. The canal kept our day interesting when one group mate's pole fell in and nearly disappeared and S gave our guide a heart attack by filling his water up from it. That water definitely isn't potable, but S has a lot of faith in his Life Straw filter. As we walk, we can see the tip of Salkantay Mountain peeking out. The temperature is just warm enough and the flat trail easily takes us to our first campsite for the night.
We arrive at our camp midday to eat lunch. We are immediately blown away by our chef's food. We get multiple courses including soup, rice, vegetables, salted avocado, delicious broccoli, fried potatoes, salad, and some sort of vegan fritter. Our guide told us earlier that we may gain weight these next few days of non-stop hiking, and now I see why.
Stuffed, our guide gives us an hour to digest and reset before we begin our afternoon out-and-back hike to Humantay Lake. The glass domes we will be sleeping in tonight are super hot in the midday sun and covered (for now) so they don't reflect light and heat onto the glaciers around us.
Our group reforms for our afternoon hike and lands on a team name, thanks to S's suggestions. We are The Screaming Condors! CAW CAW, CAW CAW! George, our guide, says he's never had a group pick such an incredible, creative, cool name before (I may be paraphrasing). Later, I pester him for the worst group name he's been stuck with: The Sexy Pumas. Ours is way cooler.
We begin our hike, accompanied by a camera crew. George told us the tour company sent them to follow us this afternoon to get photos for their website. Hannah and I fully believed it, and performed some website-worthy hiking until one break while we were waiting for S and his girlfriend, M, to catch the group. One of our fellow Screaming Condors told us S was actually going to propose to M at the lake! What?!
When M and S did catch up, Hannah and I overheard M say something about turning back for camp because she was struggling up the mountain. 'Oh no.' Hannah and I had to make sure she got to that lake! Suddenly we were hiking a lot slower, singing songs, and chit chatting, providing entertainment to distract from how insanely steep and long this mountain was. Finally, the group makes it, and the photographers start taking couple pictures (Hannah and I are the only non-couple in our group). Long story short, M said yes!
While celebratory engagement pictures were being taken, Hannah and I went on a side quest (with permission of course) to climb the hill next to the lake and see what was on the other side. We recruit two Screaming Condors to join us and find a beautiful glacial field now covered in bright grass, moss, and rocks.
We begin a cold descent with our group, rushing a wee bit because we don't want to miss the tea our chef was serving before dinner. We had no idea these teas would become a highlight after hard hiking days with delicious fresh popcorn, hot chocolate, tea, sweet potatoes cut and cooked into cookies (for the vegans), and real cookies (for the regulars). A wood burning stove washed the room in a cozy, communal warmth. Tea bled into dinner, and we all retreated to our glass domes for the night with a mix of excitement for seeing the stars and dread for braving the cold outside the warm dining hall.
Tonight's camp is the only one with a shared bathroom and no showers. That didn't seem like a big deal as we brushed our teeth, put on our warmest layers, and crawled into our unbelievably lumpy sleeping bags. It wasn't until Hannah's started to feel sick (not from the food or water) that it became a big deal. We'll spare you the details. Let's leave it at Hannah was extremely sick all night, I was slow to get her medicine, and by morning she was both exhausted and completely unfueled for the hardest day of hiking we had ahead.
On the bright side, Hannah being sick all night meant we really got to enjoy the stars peeking through the sky's deep darkness and the way the moonlight bounced off the glacier above us.
Day 2 - Over Salkantay Pass
After a short night was made long by illness, we are woken up at 4:00 AM by our guide with a knock on the door and two cups of tea. He asks how we are. "Not good," I say, "Hannah was sick all night." His face drops. "You are okay now." It is a statement, not a question. If Hannah was still unstable, I'm sure he would have tried to help problem solve, but today there is no road that can connect us to our camp for tonight. The only option is to walk. Hannah could take a horse for the first four uphill miles, but the thought of being jostled around by a horse is enough to make Hannah sick again. She will be persevering.
We have a small breakfast with our group, early enough that we will be long gone by the time the sun makes an appearance. Hannah forces down a mini orange-quinoa pancake (fancy, right?!), looking extremely pale. The whole group can see how gaunt she is at a glance.
Our day begins walking to the base of Salkantay Pass. It takes a little while to get there from camp. The base has water melt trickling in dozens of thin stream through the flat patch just before the path begins to rise. There is a small outhouse (I can't imagine where the waste goes) and drink shack surrounded by horses being packed with their day's load. Today, those horses will be taking our bags and rations ahead of us, along with our chef.
Hannah makes it almost two miles before the energy deficiency starts to hit. She rests every so often and keeps putting one foot in front of the other, slowly and very painfully making her way up the mountain. Our guide has lots of other guide friends along the trail, with whom he'll stop and chat for half an hour before easily catching up to us. He tells our group that he will see us at our next group check point, a specified sign over a mile ahead, and lets everyone go at their own pace. Finally, Hannah resigns herself to needing something in her unhappy stomach, and we are saved by S, who in congratulations for his engagement was given two juice boxes. He offers both to Hannah, and I force her to drink one. Hannah can be the type to say no to something she needs to avoid being a "bother." She would not be getting away with that today. I pop that straw in and even with her first sip Hannah begins to perk up. In an added bonus, the first sunlight of the day landed on our skin as Hannah drank, warming up our spirits.
Eventually, we make it to the peak of Salkantay Pass. It is stunning. The enormous glacier towers over us, and we can see into two valleys, one that we just came from and the other where we are going. Our assistant chef is waiting for us with tea and sandwiches for the regulars, more orange quinoa pancakes for us. Hannah is overjoyed to see them. We sit there at the top of the pass for awhile, catching our breath at 15,200 feet and taking in the view. It's a new altitude record for Hannah and I and to think she made it in her condition!
Now she only had to make it back down the other side... this became a real slog. It was beautiful walking down through the valley alongside a glacial melt stream, surrounded by mountains. But it took ages and the loose dirt and rock made for a few falls. Most of the group was crawling alongside us, so Hannah wasn't the caboose for the entire way. Hannah was dead enough later on in our hike to willingly ask for the second juice box S had offered to her earlier, and I remain convinced that that juice box is the only reason we made it to lunch.
Though our guide was very patient, clearly our pace was becoming a problem because he warned us we were about 20 minutes away from missing our lunch. Our chef would have had to move on before we made it to him. Thankfully, we aren't left to starve. We make it to the house of one of the tour company's porters, where a kitchen and long dining room are used to feed us hikers. The family has what appears to be a recently constructed bathroom, which I image is to service us stinky hikers. A few cute dogs nap on the grass, and I notice a burn pile of trash. I imagine that's the only useful way to do waste disposal out here. It's an interesting peek into local life.
Hannah got down a few bites of our impressive lunch, and our group kept chugging along. At this point, Hannah has rallied. Though still unwell with quite a few miles ahead of us, she's over the hump. The rest of our day's hike is dusty, with large groups of horses frequently trotting by with their loads, kicking up large clouds that lingered. I hike with a buff, which I pulled over my face every time we hear horses coming and had to get mountainside (that's so that a clumsy horse couldn't knock us off the trail to plummet to our deaths in the deep valley below).
At one of our rest points with a small snack shack, benches, and Coca Cola, our group recollects. A few have been waiting for us for over half an hour, but we aren't hurting the most. One Screaming Condor's knees hurt so bad she doesn't think she'll be able to keep walking and another has blisters so painful she is wincing every step. There is also a sick horse being forced along the trail, and the porters give it some Coca Cola to perk back up. The horse is Coca Cola-fueled, and Hannah is juice-fueled. The path is straightforward, until we get to the beginning of the town where we will be staying, so our guide lets us all go at our own pace to town, instructing us to wait for him there. We have definitely made progress as the rocky peaks turn to a lush, cloud forest environment.
We do just that, but are left waiting for so long that when another guide from our company passed us, he adopts us and radios our guide that he has us. We are all thrilled to keep moving and get to our camp to wash up as soon as possible. We are filthy.
Tonight, we are staying in "Mountain Sky View" huts built into the steep mountain side, overlooking the valley. A lukewarm shower each later, Hannah and I heave ourselves up the stairs to the dining hall where a tea of warm beverages, popcorn, and sweet potatoes waits for us before a delicious dinner complete with a local dessert soup. The dessert soup tasted like cough syrup to me. Our group moans and groans in pain as we maneuver our sore bodies down the stairs and back to our cabins. Almost 12 hours of hiking is a lot in a day. The pain is softened by the clearest view of the milky way I had ever seen. We stop with some fellow Screaming Condors to take pictures before bidding each other goodnight and tucking ourselves in for another chilly nights rest. No sickness tonight.
Day 3 - Through the Cloud Forest
With a much kinder 6:00 AM wake up this morning, our group is fed, packed up, and outfitted with "Salkantay Trekking" tshirts for a group picture by 7:00. Today, our numbers are down two, who after yesterday had too many battle wounds to take a stab at today. Instead, we will meet them at the coffee tour we will end up at after our morning hike.
We start walking down the town's dirt road. Along the way, we stop at a small concrete shelter along the road for a demonstration in back strap weaving and the natural dying process for wool. Our guide trepidatiously tells us most groups paint their faces here with the juice of a berry used for dye. Our group has no takers and George seemed relieved it isn't the Screaming Condor's vibe. We continue on the road until we reach a bridge over a narrow canyon. We stop here to investigate a tiny hot spring bubbling up into the road in a half-dollar sized pool before turning onto today's trail.
This is a rough day for anyone with a fear of heights. Why? Well, today we are walking high up the mountainside on an extremely narrow path of loose rock that drops off an indefinite number of feet straight to the riverbed below. To make matters all the scarier, we are in landslide territory and walk by trees and rocks that have cascaded down as if it were a poorly constructed sand castle. Two Screaming Condors are afraid of heights, so we do our best to stay out of their way while they play a mental game to keep their feet moving.
When the path isn't clinging to the edge of landslid terrain, it dips just into jungly foliage. We see bromeliads growing off of trees, tiny wild strawberries, and all sorts of other fascinating plants. Today, we are approaching the edge of the Amazon Rainforest, and the biodiversity is impressive. We pass by a number of small waterfalls and cross a few very organic bridges. I'm not sure how else to describe those... The hiking today is, thankfully, relatively flat with just a few steep uphills in the jungly sections and some slippery downhills in landslide zones. We make quick work of today's hike.
We make just one notable stop on our hike at a farm with Maracuya (passion fruit) orchards, large pumpkins dangling from trees to support healthy growth, and a rest area complete with a puppy. Here George explains to us the difference between two Maracuya varieties (one sour and one sweet) and we stop for snacks and rest. The farmers here are on the opposite side of the river as the road. To get their harvests to market, there is a tiny cable car that crosses over the canyon below, dropping you at the bottom of a steep climb to the road.
We arrive at our tour van, parked where dirt road ends and trail begins, around mid-day to get a ride to our afternoon coffee tour. The drive is dusty and rough, and I'm grateful when we pull up to a complex of concrete structures with a large yard between them. We reunite with the Screaming Condors that weren't up for today's hike. They are very zen, having spent the morning swinging in hammocks while roasting coffee wafted by.
We are taught how coffee is made from bean to cup. First, bright red berries are picked off coffee plants. Apparently, these berries are edible and used to be a common snack for kids to pick as the walked to school. Once the berries are picked, they are laid out on tarps in the open air to dry out, being mixed around every so often to keep it even. These dried beans then go through a hulling and roasting process. We are given a demo of the machine that was used routinely for large-scale hulling before this became a tourist education center. Next, we put the pale beans in a hot metal bowl over a fire and take turns stirring the beans. It is important to keep the beans in constant motion because they burn easily if they stay still a moment too long. Once we have our roasted beans, our group goes over to the grinder. Here I go first, spinning the pencil-sharpener like handle to produce a fine powder. There is a lot more resistance than I expected. Finally, we hand our coffee grounds over to a woman behind a counter, who puts them in a filter and pours hot water over them. Each of us are handed a tiny shot of the coffee we roasted ourselves. It was really cool to see coffee we made from start to finish. Hannah and I take tiny sips to test our work, as neither of us like or drink coffee. The verdict: burnt. All of the coffee drinkers in the group pull a bit of a face, so clearly The Screaming Condors shouldn't quit our day jobs to be coffee roasters.
After our interesting, if undelicious, coffee experience, the van drives The Screaming Condors to our camp for tonight in another dusty, bumpy drive. We quickly drop our things in our assigned jungle domes (tent like bubbles with an impressive interior) before reuniting for a masterpiece of a lunch. Tomorrow after breakfast, our chefs will be leaving our group, so they use lunch as their opportunity to show off. They bring out platter after platter laden with delicious-looking fare, but the real stars of the show are the plate decor. Each plate is bedecked with masterfully carved fruits and vegetables: A cucumber sculpted into a beautiful bird, a lemon turned into an adorable guinea pig, and roses made of peeled carrots, beets, and radishes. Our group ooh's and ahh's over every plate as it is paraded out. We certainly didn't go hungry as we loaded up on rice, jicama, fried potatoes, corn, delicious vegan fritters, smashed avocado, and seared zucchini rolls. If I could relive one meal I've had in my life, this one would be a candidate.
After lunch everyone has the option of going to a nearby hot spring. Considering how sore we are, all but two in the group decide to opt-in. It's a rush to get everyone into the van in time. The road to the hot springs closes for a few hours in the afternoon, so we have a clock to race against. Back in the dusty, bumpy van the drive takes a lot longer than Hannah and I expected. It's probably about an hour before we pull up to an area with shopping and restaurant stalls popped up to service the tourism the hot spring brings. We are so excited to finally be warm after several freezing nights and mildly warm showers only for the water to be... well... lukewarm? The first few minutes in the water feel warm, then progressively we get chillier. It's perhaps like 45 minute old bath water. Nevertheless, our group gets to know each other better, chatting for a few hours without the need to catch our breath or get out of a horse's way. It is a nice opportunity that makes Hannah and I appreciate the Screaming Condors even more. We are so grateful to have been randomly assigned to such a fun and friendly group. I laugh at the fact that everyone is American.
During a quick towel off and change, we learn that another group, who did paint their faces with berry juice, now has stained faces. We are back in the van for our last dusty drive. At this point, I am breathing through a t-shirt because my lungs are aching. We are entertained by watching how locals navigate the ridiculously heavy traffic we get stuck in on the way back. We arrive back at the campsite to discover we missed our evening tea! Tragedy! Still, we enjoy a delicious dinner before retreating to our bubble tents for the night for a hot shower and rest.
Note: The showers are heated with propane tanks. Ours must have been out because that was undoubtedly the COLDEST shower of my life. Yes, I cried. A lot. You would have too. All I wanted was to be warm after not having a moment at a comfortable temperature all week. Could we have asked for a new propane tank? Yes. Did we realize that too late? Yes. It was a tough end to the night.
Day 4 - Approaching Machu Picchu
Today is our last big hike. We have been told it is the second hardest day of the trek, but we wake up with a spring in our step. Our trail begins hiking between houses in the village where our campsite was, going uphill until we meet the primary hiking trail toward Machu Picchu. There aren't a lot of ways to get lost today, so our guide lets us take it at our own pace. Hannah and I get in a groove, flying up the trail as it rises from low of the mountain to its summit. The trail overlooks the valley from which we came, so we get the satisfaction of a clear view of where we started this morning compared to how much higher we have climbed. We stop at a rest house to wait for our group and eat a snack. Just above, I spot a swing. Heck yeah! Hannah and I climb up and enjoy the incredible valley panorama just beyond our swinging toes.
Once the whole group has caught its breath, we resume our journey. Hannah and I take off again, very proud to be feeling so good today. We've finally got our hiking legs under us, and Hannah is fully recovered from her Night One Episode. We pause at a fork in the road to wait for our guide, then approach the next rest spot together. This one is particularly exciting because we get our very first glimpse of Machu Picchu! It is very difficult to spot, but with our binoculars and guidance from George, Hannah and I can make out the iconic terraces we have travelled so far to see. We spend awhile here, hanging out with the resident llama, taking photos, and dropping a Sole coin in an old coffee can to use the outhouse. This is our highest point of the day. What remains is going all the way down the other side of the mountain, then a long flat walk in the valley connecting the village of Hidroelectrica to Machu Picchu.
Falling from our high of flying uphill this morning, Hannah and I carefully pick our way down hill. Clearly, descending is not our strength as we take our place toward the back of our pack now. Along the descent, our group stops at a rest area with a closer view of Machu Picchu and at some small Incan ruins, where George gives us a mini tour. Our path this morning was an Incan Trail, with some original steps and stones still in place. Finding a building ruin along the trail makes it all the more exciting. We lunch at a restaurant tucked away just off the trail for hungry hikers. Our chef is gone, and Hannah and I sorely miss him as we eat the vegan meal the restaurant came up with, just some soup, rice, and avocado. It's quite a bit less nourishing than our chef's impressive work.
We continued our descent, finally hitting the flat valley floor as we approached Hidroelectrica. This is a tiny village that is essentially a train stop with a few shops and restaurants lined up just feet from tracks. The two Screaming Condors who weren't up for hiking yesterday took a car again today, so we meet them here. Them and their partners have all decided to take the train from Hidroelectrica to Aguas Calientes, the town at the foot of Machu Picchu where our trek ends. Hannah and I briefly considered doing the same, but after Hannah climbed a pass over 15,000' after serious illness, we were finishing the darn thing.
Once our train-bound group members and our duffels are loaded onto the train, the remaining Screaming Condors begin our six mile march along the tracks. This is perhaps the most pleasant walking of our whole trek. It is easy going, shaded by beautiful tall jungle growth, and there is a wide flat trail. We make a few water crossings, stepping on the railroad ties and seeing water flowing through the gaps. We take a break at a large, but somewhat forlorn shelter where a woman sells soda to the passersby. Though this is primarily a train track, it is common for hikers like us and locals to walk it. Locals tend to walk from Aguas Calientes to Hidroelectrica to get cheaper train fares to other destinations.
Once or twice, a train chugs along past us. It's my first time being this close to a moving train. Though it's intimidating being so close to such a loud and powerful thing, I'm surprised at how safe and fun it feels. We peek in to see if we could spot the other Screaming Condors on board, but no such luck. Our six miles passes easily, and we make our approach into Aguas Calientes. The Urubamba River runs toward us, with gigantic boulders giving the water dimension. Tall buildings (relatively speaking) poke up from the valley floor. On all sides, the town is surrounded by towering granite mountain walls, one of which has Machu Picchu carved into it. We walk to our hotel, where we meet the rest of our group before our last dinner together. Tomorrow, we will get to see sunrise at Machu Picchu and celebrate our groups hard trekking work, but we'll save that for the next blog.
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