What It Feels Like to Trek the Inca Trail (And See Machu Picchu from the Sun Gate)
There are plenty of ways to get to Machu Picchu.
You can take the train, hop off at Aguas Calientes, and be there in time for lunch. It’s fast, convenient, and easy.
But that’s not what we’re here for.
The Inca Trail offers something completely different. It’s not just a route—it’s a four-day, slow-burn immersion in history, altitude, and quiet challenge. The kind of experience that doesn’t just get you to Machu Picchu, but makes you earn it.
I’ve walked this trail more times than I can count, and it still stops me in my tracks. Not because it’s the hardest trek in the world—it’s not—but because of how it unfolds, slowly, deliberately, pulling you deeper into the landscape and the past.
Here’s what it actually feels like to walk the Inca Trail—and what you can expect when you finally reach the Sun Gate and Machu Picchu reveals itself for the first time.
The Beginning: Dusty Trails and Familiar Strangers
The first morning starts near Ollantaytambo, where the Urubamba River winds its way through the Sacred Valley.
The pace is calm. No rush. No need to be first. The trail gradually pulls you away from farms and fields, through eucalyptus groves and up into the foothills of the Andes.
The team of porters walks past you with impossible ease—gear balanced, chatting as they go. You start to find your rhythm. There’s a kind of peace to that first day: early altitude, light conversation, that quiet energy you only get when a group knows they’re heading somewhere special.
By mid-afternoon you’ve passed your first few Inca sites—hilltop outposts, terraced villages, ancient stonework that fits together tighter than a Swiss watch.
Camp that night is basic, but it works. You’re fed like royalty, sleep early, and wake up to mist rolling through the valley.
Day Two: The Climb
This is the one everyone talks about.
You’ve got a clear goal: Dead Woman’s Pass, the highest point of the trek at 4,215m. The climb isn’t technical, but it’s steep, and the altitude makes itself known early.
The terrain is classic Andes—narrow stone steps, sharp switchbacks, ridges that lead into thin air. You stop often. Not because you want to, but because you need to.
People don’t say much on this section. The conversations fade and it becomes about the movement—step, breath, rest, repeat.
When you reach the top, you don’t cheer. You just look. Back at the trail. Forward at the pass. Around at the peaks, cloud-draped and silent. It’s the kind of place that speaks for itself.
The descent into camp is tougher than expected. It’s long and rough on the knees. But it also feels like progress. You’re in it now.
Day Three: The Forgotten Side of the Trail
Day Three is the one most people don’t see coming.
You’ve passed the altitude test. Now the trail dips and rises through thick cloud forest—ferns, orchids, hanging moss, the occasional waterfall carving its way through rock.
It’s quiet again. Not from exhaustion this time, but from absorption.
You start to pass ruins that don’t appear on many postcards. Places like Sayaqmarka and Phuyupatamarka—stone walls and temples still clinging to ridgelines, half swallowed by jungle, yet perfectly intact.
They’re not fenced off. There’s no signage. You just stumble into them, realise what they are, and carry on.
That’s the thing about the Inca Trail. It’s not just a lead-up to a single grand finale. The journey is dotted with moments that could easily stand alone.
You camp that night on a slope above the clouds. If the weather’s clear, the stars put on a show.
Day Four: The Sun Gate and the Final Reveal
You wake early. Really early. 3am, give or take. The checkpoint doesn’t open until 5, but there’s a queue—everyone wants to be among the first through.
You walk by headtorch in single file. It’s not steep, but the anticipation builds. You know what’s coming, and the group is hushed, focused.
And then you reach the final climb: the Gringo Killer.
A brutal, final staircase that rises near vertically—short, sharp, and ridiculous. You scramble up, breathless, and suddenly you’re there.
The Sun Gate. Inti Punku.
Not a monument. Not a tourist spot. Just a narrow stone gateway that opens onto one of the most famous views on earth.
You stand, catch your breath, and look down.
And there it is—Machu Picchu, emerging from the mist below like it’s floating.
It’s real. It’s quiet. The light is soft. The llamas are waking up. The site is empty, still, sleeping in the golden haze of early morning.
The first time I saw it, I didn’t feel overwhelmed. I felt… satisfied.
Because that’s what makes this trek different. You don’t just see Machu Picchu. You arrive at it.
What the Trail Really Leaves You With
The Inca Trail doesn’t rush. It doesn’t boast. It doesn’t try to impress you all at once. It’s four days of walking through history, landscape, and altitude—with just enough challenge to make you pay attention.
And the result is something few other routes can match:
You finish not with a summit photo, but with an understanding of place. A sense of context. An appreciation that Machu Picchu wasn’t meant to be approached quickly or easily.
It was designed to be discovered slowly, thoughtfully, and on foot.
Want to Experience It for Yourself?
We run guided Inca Trail adventures with:
✔️ Full permit management
✔️ Experienced local guides and porters
✔️ All meals and camp logistics handled
✔️ Time to acclimatise in Cusco beforehand