We’re here for a week of adventure with the Indigenous-owned and sustainably focused Alpaca Expeditions. Their bright green vans shuttling about town represent a significant achievement for a company founded by a former porter and tour guide.

“Being sustainable means the money our clients pay goes to locals, fairly compensates our staff, and supports our communities,” CEO Raul Ccolque tells me at his HQ. In the open courtyard, layers of bright green tents, sleeping bags and ponchos air-dry like palm fronds in the sun. Never mind my visit in 2005, a lot has changed since Ccolque founded Alpaca Expeditions in 2013.

Government regulations ramped up considerably to control crowds and the environmental impact on Peru’s most famous archaeological sites. Then came the COVID-19 pandemic, a disaster for local tourism that led to many businesses folding. As for the rockstar world wonder of Machu Picchu, UNESCO adds layers of protective tape that can feel both essential and stifling, protecting the ruins but herding visitors on limited circuits.

Sacsayhuamán is the first of three Incan sites we’ll visit on the outskirts of Cusco, ruins from the massive empire that dominated South America until the arrival of the Spanish in 1528. The rise of the Inca is steeped in mystery and folklore, and their fall is a tale of brutal and violent colonization. A small invading Spanish force benefited from their ruthless cultural values, internal Incan strife, and what anthropologist Jared Diamond calls guns, germs and steel. You can read his book, as well as many others, which explain how millions of fierce Inca soldiers succumbed to Pizarro’s initial force of just 180 men and 37 horses.

After the ferocious destruction of Inca culture, it’s easy to view their ruins, temples and striking mountain terraces as all that remains from a lost civilization. Yet, unlike our adventure exploring the temples of Ancient Egypt on the Nile, the legacy of the Inca continues to thrive in the Andes. We hear it in their Quichua language, in the music and culture that dominate the mountains of Peru and Bolivia. We feel them with the distinct weaving and clothing spun from soft alpaca, llama and vicuña wool. Along with the guinea pig, these camelids were the only native mammals domesticated in pre-Spanish South America. We see their jet-black hair, high cheekbones and the curious smiles of their uniformed children on the way to school.

A pillowy sky spits rain and drizzle on a cool day in the cloud forest. Wild pink orchids line the ascending trail, surrounded by the amphitheatre of Andean mountains. We cross a cascade, explore the ruins of Chacabamba and Wiñay Wayna, and poke our hiking poles into a tarantula web. Our guides, Lucio and Yarida, stop for briefings about the history, geography, flora, and fauna along the way. We scramble up a final steep section cheekily nicknamed ‘Gringo Death’ to be reborn at Sun Gate for our first view of Machu Picchu. Views always feel more special when you earn them.

Late afternoon sunshine suddenly breaks through the clouds, basting the lost city in a carroty glow, as we walk down to a terrace to soak in that magical view we’ve all seen in photographs. Cell service has been reliable throughout our trek, and we video call my wife. “Guess what, Mom, I’m at Machu Picchu!” says my elated, exhausted daughter. That’s something I couldn’t have done twenty years ago. Tonight, we’ll take the bus into the village to camp and rest our tired feet, returning at sunrise to explore the full site on the expansive Circuit 2. By mid-morning, Machu Picchu becomes very busy, and in truth, my daughter and I found the sprawling Incan sites in the Sacred Valley, at Pisac and Ollantaytambo, to be just as epic (see TEXT BOX). It’s the hiking adventure that made Machu Picchu so special, and as always, the lovely people we got to share it with.