Lima airport bristled with coca chewing gum stalls. Oh, going to Cusco are you — well you will need this.1
So chewing gum and rattling with NSAID’s we went to 1500m in the pressurised aircraft and climbed to Cusco. Dodging the peaks, the plane ascended rather than descended to the airport.
To the hotel in the old city and the first of our cups of coca tea. The tea was not piping hot — water boils at 85C in Cusco.
Breathing was rapid and felt strange. My pulse was fast, and I was starting to brew a headache. I was aware that I needed to breathe, but that breathing was strangely unsatisfying.
Walking up a slight incline to the restaurant like a 95 yr old with frequent pauses to admire the scenery was the way to go. Oxygen here was only 67% of the thick atmospheric soup that I enjoy at sea level. Strong alcohol was to be avoided and indeed, I had a light head and a buzz already.
Sleep came with trepidation. Would my headache respond to paracetamol or was it the harbinger of mountain sickness, with pulmonary oedema just round the corner?
The next day was better. I had even survived the night (we had both survived the night). The bus journey to Saqsaywaman took us even higher. Off the bus to walk up the hills and back on the bus to be driven to a few metres shy of 4K in the clouds.
Back down to Cusco and the air felt almost satisfying in it’s tangibility.
By day 3, we were ok at rest, resting pulse and respiratory rate had been restored to that approaching normality.
So we travelled to Machu Picchu by bus and then train, descending all the while to Aguas Calientes at 2.6k elevation — no worries
Quito at the end of the week and 2.8k elevation was comfortable. Our guide explained to the coca hawkers that we were ‘cured’ and did not need his wares.
- Cusco is 3.4k above sea level, with Saqsaywaman another 0.5k above this ↩