Glowing beneath a halo of golden evening light, the sacred mountain Salkantay shone like a beacon of certainty on the horizon. I’d been trekking for several hours, climbing more than 3,000 feet to reach this spot, exhausted by giddy, altitude-induced confusion. The highest peak of the Vilcabamba range in the Peruvian Andes had become my guiding light.
Unravelling a chuspa bag gifted by her grandmother, my tough but contemplative guide, Desiré Prudencio, emptied it of dried coca leaves and invited us to make an offering to the mountain and Pachamama, or Mother Earth. Quechua communities believe some mountains are apus: living spirits watching over the people and their land. “I always ask permission to use trails and mountains,” explained Prudencio, who grew up here in Peru’s Sacred Valley. “It’s also a way of connecting with my ancestors, because they were in the mountains all their lives.”
Associated with high altitudes, harsh conditions and challenging terrain, Salkantay earns its name, which is derived from the Quechua word for “wild” or “invincible”. A trail skirting its foothills served as a pilgrimage route for Incas travelling to Machu Picchu. But even before the sky-high citadel was constructed, ancient civilisations followed these paths. Marketed as an alternative to the popular Inca Trail, the Salkantay trek promises a quieter, crowd-free journey through Peru’s Sacred Valley, with no permit required. Going several steps further, I’d chosen a route that is almost untraceable on a conventional map. Sebastián Correa, vice president of exploration at family-owned Chilean adventure company Explora, and his team spent months analysing satellite images to create a multiday camping trip traversing Salkantay’s eastern face, offering views that few visitors have seen.
Explora was founded 32 years ago, and its original concept was “to have a base camp with a really nice shower, bed and bar”, says Correa. Nine upmarket lodges across four countries later, the plan is “to take that idea back to the wilderness, connecting with breathtaking landscapes and the rich ancestral stories of these sacred mountains”.
This latest itinerary promises high-altitude adventure on an even smarter scale. New Andean cuisine is served at mealtimes, a massage therapist is available to knead away aches and pains, and the tents, carried by a support team on horseback, house thick mattresses. But greater comforts make the journey no less challenging. Scaling heights of more than 15,000 feet, with temperatures potentially dipping to minus 15 degrees Celsius at night, requires serious preparation. “Most medical papers are for mountaineering, not tourism, so we’ve used our own wisdom,” explained Correa, outlining the rationale behind the itinerary.
After flying into Cusco, I spent two days at Explora’s Valle Sagrado lodge. The 50-room property sits between terraces and potato fields, serving as a gateway to Caral, Chavín, Wari and Quechua cultures. Following acclimatisation hikes intersecting with the Qhapaq Ñan – a vast network of ancient trails spanning nearly 19,000 miles, of which the Inca Trail forms only one part – we were ready to begin. Swapping adobe-style walls for canvas, we met our expedition support team of guides, chefs and porters at the Misquiyaco Private Conservation Area. Travelling ahead, they would be responsible for setting up lunch stops and campsites. A horseman would follow us in case of an emergency.
Softer-than-velvet mosses clung to tree trunks and fine veils of lichen fluttered in the pure virgin air. Views changed as we climbed between ecosystems and moved through folds in the mountains. As we entered the highlands, the terrain opened onto slopes of amber icha grass that rolled like sand dunes and marvellous Hulk-green spongy yareta plants – native to the high Puna plateau grasslands, these slow-growing evergreens can live for 3,000 years. Where the atmosphere thins and oxygen fades, it’s best not to rush.
Before arriving at our first campsite, we joined Prudencio in making an offering – a ritual we’d repeat daily. After dark, the sky exploded like a glitter bomb. “Even though they were looking at the same stars, our ancestors had a different cosmovision,” she explained. The Milky Way formed a sacred river, bright stars Alpha and Beta Centauri were the eyes of a llama and cluster Pleiades was known as Colca, named after Incan structures for storing grain. Now also called Seven Sisters, it would appear when it was the optimum time to harvest crops. “If these civilisations didn’t have the answer, they created the answer,” she continued. “By walking these paths, every step brings us closer to a better understanding of their world.”
Hiking as a group allowed us to bond with one another, confessing secrets while on the trail or huddled around a campfire. But there were times when it was simply impossible to talk. Climbing higher along the Vilcabamba mountain range, I began to feel the head-thumping, blood-draining effects of altitude sickness. Chewing on coca leaves, I fell into a hypnotic rhythm. By the time I reached our campsite in the Wilke Valley, my head felt heavier than the stormy grey sky. That night I lay tormented by squealing Andean geese and terrified by furious bolts of lightning. My pupils were dilated, my lips were blue and my heart was beating its own fierce tempest. When dawn finally broke and the rain stopped, I could only hear silence, followed by the rush of wind below the wings of relieved birds. Zipping open my tent, I stared directly into the face of Salkantay, a perfect pyramid so vivid it felt only a few feet from my touch. By that point I was running on empty.
“Today you will take it slowly,” ordered Correa, encouraging me to move with “baby steps”. Beyond these valleys, life is a race to meet unrealistic demands and chase infinite finish lines. But when dwarfed by far-off stars and ancient mountains, our existence shrinks to no more than an eye blink. I started to accept my human limitations, learning to move more slowly than the end-of-day shadows creeping across the valley floor. “Zigzag like a llama,” instructed Correa, guiding me along slopes reaching more than 15,000 feet. “These ancient animals show us how to climb properly, rather than foolish humans who force a trail upward, wearing themselves out.”
The rainy season begins in late October, so hiking then raises the risk of encountering thunderstorms. On our way towards the Huayanay glacier, we were hit by a sudden blast of hail. Once safely under canvas, Prudencio confessed she had spent the past hour nervously reciting a prayer her mother taught her, repeating the words “santo, santo, santo” while raising one hand to the clouds and tracing a sign of the cross. Earlier that year a lightning strike killed one of her uncles. “There are many ways to live this life,” she whispered above the barrage of frozen raindrops. “According to the ancient vision, my uncle is part of this. He’s part of the thunder, the storms, Mother Earth.”
Once the sky had fought its final tantrum, we continued our journey across a rollercoaster of hills swallowed by mist. Alpacas and llamas moved like ghosts between the ruins of a lonely shepherd’s hut. Flanked by summits, our safe shelter came into view. At the foot of Huayanay mountain, as the brays of impatient, home-yearning horses echoed across the valley, I knew our trip was coming to an end. Passing shrinking glaciers and spearmint-green lagoons, I turned to catch a final glimpse of Salkantay – my ever-watchful guardian throughout this expedition.
Every few hundred yards the vegetation changed dramatically: shrubs became taller trees, bare rocks blossomed with garlands of red orchids. My breaths grew longer, my head felt clearer and my limbs were lighter. But as fences and farmlands appeared, my heart weighed heavier. Reacclimatising to reality might be the toughest challenge of all. “We all have our different reasons for being in the mountains,” Prudencio had told me. “Even if we are in the same place, we’re not always seeing the same thing.” City dwellers come to find nature, simplicity and balance; most people come for the physical challenge and leave spiritually humbled by what they find. In the Andes, the horizons are huge and the possibilities infinite. But humans have boundaries. One baby step at a time, I’d learned to accept mine.
How to Book
Red Savannah offers a nine-night Peru trip from £6,895 per person. It includes the eight-night Explora Sacred Mountains Expedition (runs May to October) on the Unknown Inca Trail, consisting of: three nights at the Explora Valle Sagrado lodge, four nights in Explora’s exclusive tented camps and one night in a hotel in Aguas Calientes, all fully inclusive; one day on the Inca Trail culminating with entrance through the Sun Gate to Machu Picchu; one night in Lima, B&B; and domestic flights from Lima to Cusco, plus all other transportation. redsavannah.com