The new legacy of the Incas

Cuzco is the former capital of the Inca empire and current capital of the gringo trail in South America. Most trips by Europeans to the continent seem to include a visit to the city at some stage.

Though no historian, I´ve enjoyed reading a little about the story of the Incas.Despite their downfall at the hands of the Spanish over 500 years ago, their influence can be felt all over the region.

Tourism has also changed the face of this area, though in a much less appealing way. It seems that everyone in Cuzco is now an attempted English speaker, and I've lost count of the number of times I've been referred to as 'mister' or offered a massage.

Almost as common a sight as the tour bus of middle aged North Americans is the posh English Gap Year Student. Recognisable by the pashmina or floppy hair and slightly skinnier than adult build, they prowl the nightspots in a cocaine fuelled attempt to stumble accross a first sexual experience that wasn't with their housemaster.

Typically, these attempts to find themselves before starting at Bristol in September are funded by a huge charity fete in the local village. It's charity because they'l spend a week building a shelter for poor people later in the trip.

Though there are impressive churches in the centre and some ruins nearby, the reason for Cuzco's popularity is the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, a 4 day trek finishing at the most impressive and famous of the few Inca Cities not destroyed by the Spanish. Unfortunately, it's a journey of discovery that 70 year olds from Kentucky and 18 year old's from Esher enjoy in equal measure, and there used to be so much litter on the route that the Peruvian government introduced strict controls. Now, it books up faster than you can say 'Raleigh International', and a number of alternative, less well-trodden routes have emerged to satisfy the excess demand.

I opted for a longer trek than the Inca Trail, featuring less ruins, much less people, and at a quarter of the price. The scenery was supposedly more beautiful, the trekking certainly more extreme, and the destination was still Machu Picchu.

The first challenge for anyone booking a trek from Cusco is choosing one of the three hundred or so registered tour agencies. In the end, I was seduced by the promise of a group featuring three Irish girls and two Canadian guys ('all in their twenties'), paid my money and packed my bags for a 4am start the next day.

When we assembled as a group after a bus ride up a steep mountain, it became clear that the three Irish girls were actually a couple in their late thirties from Cumbria, and the Canadians were in fact an even older Dutch pair. Still, it was a small group and the guide, Fernando, seemed good fun. Over breakfast it emerged that, thanks to the dark arts practiced by Cuzco tour agencies, the others had conspired to pay almost twice as much as me for the same experience. I didn't tell them, and felt very lucky.

Mules carried the tents and cooking equipment, and we carried our clothes. The first day was 25km uphill through the steepest farmland I have ever seen. Constantly on the lookout for falling cows, we pitched our tents and slept in the shadow of the Salkantay mountain, aware that the next day would be by far the hardest.

And so it proved, as we climbed for three hours through thick snow and strong winds to an altitude of 4800m, before descending in heavy rain. Covered in mud, wet and cold, we camped on a clearing in thick forest. The next day included another 5 hours of walking, before we squeezed on to the back of a truck with thirty or so locals and rattled down through dense, cloud-filled jungle, heading to some natural hot-springs and then our night´s camp.

I thought we were getting on quite well with the locals, but somebody through a dead rat at an Israeli man as we passed through a village, so maybe not.

On the fourth day, we walked for three hours up a railway line and took our first glimpse at Machu Picchu from below. Ruins aren´t really my thing, but I was amazed by the effort required to get so many big stones up such a steep hill.

The next day I climbed the same hill and fought my way through dense swathes of American tour groups in time to see the city emerge from the morning fog. Some things are touristy for a reason, and, despite overhearing more than I would have liked about Gary from Idaho´s work-life balance, it was impossible not to be affected by an unforgettable creation in an unbelievable setting.