Peru's Inca Trail offers dazzling views through the Andes

20251026-go-peru — The Inca Trail is a hiking route that ends at the ancient city of Machu Picchu in Peru.

Patricia Gabbett Snow Patricia Gabbett Snow Patricia Gabbett Snow For the Journal

Published October 27, 2025 - 10:00 a.m. Modified October 27, 2025 - 10:00 a.m.

Porters of the Inca Trail

There’s nothing more humbling on the Inca Trail than trudging along, proud of your progress, only to have porters fly past you with massive packs strapped to their backs. While you’re gasping for breath, they’re carrying the tents, food and supplies that make your trek even possible.

Porters don’t just haul loads. They set up camp before you arrive, help prepare meals and ensure hikers have a safe, comfortable experience. The job demands immense strength, endurance and grit — especially at high altitudes where every step feels heavier.

Most porters are men, though the number of women is growing. Their day begins before dawn, packing everything up and moving ahead to repeat the process at the next campsite. If trekkers had to carry their own gear, few would ever finish the trail.

But portering isn’t just work — it’s tradition. Most porters come from Quechua communities, where knowledge of the mountains and reverence for the land is passed down through generations. They grow up hearing stories of the Inca Trail, learning its history and understanding its sacredness.

Each day, they haul supplies through rugged weather and thin air, keeping pace with the group while preparing for its arrival. This centuries-old practice keeps culture alive while sustaining local families.

Our guide, Flecher — once a porter himself — told us porters are respected and can make a good living. In 2022, the Peruvian government strengthened their rights: higher wages, limits on the weight they carry, health and accident insurance, mandatory rest between expeditions, and more.

He proudly detailed an Inca Trail Marathon to Machu Picchu in 2002. Elite athletes from all over the world competed. They started off fast, but each eventually petered out, he said. The winner — in 3.5 hours — was a local porter, although the individual’s name is not available from official race results.

On the Inca Trail, porters are more than support staff. They are its heart — and its unsung heroes.

Prepping for the Inca Trail

As my partner Steve Forrest likes to say, “The only way to train for a hike is to hike.”

We do our fair share of hiking, but the elevation gains on the Inca Trail — especially on day two — are daunting. So, in addition to our usual walks and weight training, he wisely insisted we tackle some increasingly difficult hikes each weekend leading up to the trip.

The first couple of weekends, we chose La Luz Trail, considered a difficult nearly 8-mile hike one way in the Sandias, with an elevation gain of about 3,700 feet. Our first hike was 4 miles roundtrip; the second was 5.

The third hike, we started at the La Cueva Trailhead because the La Luz parking lot was supposed to be closed. That ended up being a pretty but long, hot and challenging hike with lots of rock scrambling — in retrospect, probably the perfect preparation for the Inca Trail. We did about six miles total.

On week four, we moved to Canyon Estates Trail in Tijeras. The elevation gains are gradual and the scenery is pretty. We returned for week five and did a little over 6 miles.

For our final training hike, we hit Pino Trail in the Elena Gallegos Open Space, for another 6 miler. This is my all-time favorite trail — easily accessible, good shade, challenging but not formidable.

In addition to the training hikes, I incorporated one increasingly challenging stair-climber workout per week. These, surprisingly, became somewhat addictive, and I’ll continue to include them in my repertoire.

Training hikes are not my favorite; I like fast walks on flat ground where I can stop at my leisure, take photos and enjoy the scenery. Now that the Inca Trail is behind us, I look forward to returning to these easier outings.

The training hikes were exactly what I needed to improve my endurance, recovery and confidence on the Inca Trail. I wouldn’t have done nearly as well had we not prepared this way for what was, essentially, a marathon on the world’s oldest stair-climber.

We arrive in Cusco, Peru, in September with several hours to kill before hotel check-in, so we do what we came here for — we start walking. Our hotel sits on a hill, so our first taste of the city is steep stairs down to the plaza and steep climbs back up.

We’ve come a few days early to acclimate before our Inca Trail trek, and almost immediately I spot two women in colorful Peruvian dress, one cradling a chubby-cheeked child. It looks like a staged photo, but it’s real. Minutes later, another woman presses a bleating “baby alpaca” into my arms. We take the photos, pay and move on — but for days I wonder: are the animals neglected, separated from their mothers? Later, our guide tells us they weren’t alpacas at all but lambs or goats — baby alpacas are too big to carry. How easily we see what we want to see.

Over the next days, we connect with our Travel Light Adventures group, including my partner’s daughter, whose spur-of-the-moment idea landed us here. “Decide by tomorrow,” she’d told her dad, “it’ll sell out.” Nine months later, here we are: two 60-somethings about to hike 26 miles through the Andes, camping three nights in tents. We’re fit enough, but I have asthma, hypertension and osteoporosis. This was never on my bucket list.

Most of our group is in their 30s, but we trained for this and we’re not chickening out now. Our Alpaca Expeditions guides run through the itinerary, we pack our duffels (porters will carry 12 pounds each plus tents, sleeping bags and food), and at 4 a.m. day one begins.

Day one

After breakfast and a passport check, we hit the trail: 8.7 miles, six to seven hours. The ruins of Llaqtapata appear in the distance, we pass through some quaint rural villages and farms and cross a few streams. On a break at a lovely picnic-type area, our guides play the ancient Incan game of sapo (frog), tossing heavy brass coins into a wooden board with various holes of different point values, with the goal of getting the coin into the frog’s mouth. Nearby, a handful of guinea pigs peer out from a wooden cart, and we lunch with a Peruvian hairless dog in a vest and a cat for company. We finish at Ayapata camp, greeted with “happy hour” — popcorn and chicha morada, a purple corn drink.

Day two

The toughest day at 10 miles and nearly 14,000 feet elevation. Everyone is nervous. The climb to Dead Woman’s Pass is brutal, the descent steeper, and another pass still awaits. On the second pass, we’re rewarded with views of waterfalls and several Inca sites. This will be our coldest night. By now, I’m used to usually bringing up the rear of our crew. Our main Peruvian guide, Flecher, has taken to calling out, “Hola, mama!” when I straggle in. I find it oddly comforting. Our group meals, especially dinners, are cozy and communal — bonding over our shared experience (what some of the younger people call “Type 2 fun”) and plentiful, tasty Peruvian dishes.

Day three

Said to be the most beautiful, through cloud forest and mountain vistas. With the majority of the mileage and the most challenging climbs behind us, I thought this would be a relatively easy day. Instead, this is where I hit a wall. Long legs, usually an advantage, betray me on the endless stone steps. With little sleep and sore muscles, I finally break down when a guide asks, “Has it been worth every step?” Still, the views at Sayacmarca dazzle and by mid-afternoon we reach camp. That night, our group honors the guides, porters and cooks, who somehow even bake cakes for our farewell meal. In just a few short days, we’ve become so immersed in Incan and Peruvian culture, food, history and traditions, it feels strange to be saying goodbye already.

Day four

At 3:30 a.m., fortified by our daily coca tea, we hurry in the dark to the park ranger checkpoint, only to sit and wait until 5:30 a.m. for it to open. The reason? As Flecher has explained, our porters must walk about an hour from Wiñay Wayna to the railway to catch the only daily train at 5:30 a.m. that allows them to load the equipment from the trek and get back to Cusco. Out of respect for their effort, all groups wake up early so the porters can make it on time.

As we approach the Sun Gate, we encounter the infamous “Gringo Killer” stairs, built steeply to ensure no enemy could stage an ambush. This gate served as the main entrance to the citadel during Incan times and also as a solar observation point during the spring solstice, when sunlight passed through the gate and illuminated the Sun Temple window. After another hour of gentle downhill hiking, we reach Machu Picchu. When we arrive at the main lookout point, we take group pictures in our lime green “We survived” shirts from Alpaca Expeditions. It is an exhilarating feeling in a place that inspires many emotions — the stunning natural beauty of the site, its view into the Inca Empire and the daily life of its people, the ingenuity of their engineering. Much as Chaco Canyon can inspire feelings that the spirits of the people who once lived there might still linger, so it is at Machu Picchu.

After a final tour, we take a bus to Aguas Calientes, train to Ollantaytambo, and return to Cusco.

Weeks later, both of us still dream of walking — always walking — through forests and mountains. Maybe the trek awakened something that will draw us back to another wild and beautiful place.