Train to Machupicchu

When Hiram Bingham first journeyed to the Lost City of the Incas in 1911, there were none of the amenities enjoyed by travellers along the route today. Indeed, there wasn't even a trail to follow, let alone a luxury train for the journey.

The Yale University archeology lecturer had been lured to Peru by rumours of an abandoned city and untold treasures hidden in a secret valley. A couple of local farmers guided him on a perilous hike through dark forests and along plunging cliff sides. Then, on a July day, they crested the granite mountain that looms high above the village of Aguas Calientes, turned a corner and found themselves staring at the fabled Lost City of the Incas.

Since then, thousands of visitors have also discovered what became known as Machu Picchu. (The name means "old peak" in the local Quechuan language, and refers to the mountain that hid it for so many centuries.) In 1983, it was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site; in 2007, it became one of the New Seven Wonders of the World.

It is a magical place that is on many travellers' "bucket lists," and for good reason. But even after the Peruvian government put in the narrow, twisting highway for the busloads of eager tourists, it was never easy to get there.

Until now.

On a sunny morning in the town of Poroy, on the outskirts of Cusco, the Orient Express Hiram Bingham train is ready to depart for Machu Picchu, its engine throbbing gently and its cars gleaming blue and gold in the sunlight.

A smiling conductor checks our tickets and we step aboard into a world of luxury. Like the historic Pullman cars, this train glows with rich colours, lush upholstery, polished panelled walls and attentive service. It's as if a century has slipped elegantly away.

Then the train's whistle blows and we begin our three-and-a-half-hour journey.

We travel through narrow mountain valleys and past forests draped in exotic vines dotted with brilliantly coloured tropical flowers.

We meander alongside the Urumba River as it rushes through the Sacred Valley. We pass the ruins of Inca cities destroyed during the Spanish conquests of the 16th century.

Every once in a while, we glimpse the Inca Trail, the stone path to Machu Picchu that Bingham discovered in 1915. On the trail, hikers struggle manfully in the hot sun and the thin, high-altitude air. As for us, we're being called to the dining car for brunch.

Peru is famous for its cuisine, and as a luxury operator, Orient Express emphasizes the finest local and seasonal ingredients. Brunch is a gourmet meal that starts with a glass of sparkling wine and includes such savoury local delicacies as roast alpaca loin.

We've barely cleared our plates when the train slows and we pull into the village of Aguas Calientes, the nearest community to Machu Picchu, which is 400 metres straight above us. There we board a bus to climb the switchbacks of what has been nicknamed the Hiram Bingham Highway. We try hard not to look down the cliffs that plunge beneath our wheels.

At the top, we meet the guide arranged by Orient Express. He leads us through the ticket booth and along a stone path to the structure known as the Guardhouse. And suddenly we're struck silent, for Machu Picchu lies before us, and nothing has prepared us for its mysterious beauty.

Terraces and stone buildings spread out across a sun-drenched grassy plateau, protected by the iconic sugarloaf mountain known as Huayna Picchu. In the distance, the blue peaks of the Andes line the horizon. A faint mist floats above them, rising from the Amazon jungle that lies just beyond the mountains.

Even now, a century after Bingham's discovery, Machu Picchu remains a mystery. No one knows why the city existed where it did, although some historians suggest that it may have been some sort of religious or educational centre, a sort of Oxford in the Andes.

No one is certain, either, why its inhabitants disappeared. In the 15th century, 1,000 people lived in its 200 buildings; by the 16th, they had disappeared. Some historians believe they were driven out by disease or natural disaster. Whatever the cause, for five centuries only a handful of locals even knew of its existence.

What is certain is that Machu Picchu is a marvel of engineering ingenuity. Somehow the Incas transported heavy stone blocks up the mountainside, then used remarkable masonry skills to fit them together so perfectly they could withstand time, weather and even the onslaught of tourists.

Whatever its origins and purpose, there is no doubt that Machu Picchu is a remarkable site. Its setting is breathtakingly beautiful, and the abandoned buildings hauntingly poignant. But there is something more here, something indefinably spooky, even spiritual, that leaves no visitor untouched.

That may explain the reverent hush in the tea room at the Machu Picchu Sanctuary Lodge where we gather for coca tea and sandwiches after our explorations. That otherworldly mood lasts until the bus carries us back to the market in Aguas Calientes where we put our best haggling skills to the test, bargaining for bobbly alpaca hats and vividly coloured Peruvian shawls. And by the time we board the train back to Cusco, a festive mood has gripped the passengers.

We're greeted on board with a welcoming Pisco Sour, Peru's national cocktail of the local brandy called pisco, lemon, sugar, egg white and bitters, followed by a four-course Peruvian feast that includes a velvety spiced pumpkin cream soup, tender "salmon trout," and fine South American wines. And then it's off to the bar car for live music and one more round of Pisco Sours.

By the time we tumble off the train in Poroy, we're exhausted, happy and changed forever. We suspect Hiram Bingham would be jealous.