The cloud vapour froze over on my visor and goggles, I rolled off the throttle as my vision reduced to a kaleidoscope of grey and white and I pulled them both out of the way to experience a brand new pain sensation - windblast frozen eyeballs.
If you have immensely, painfully and dangerously cold hands I can guarantee you that this will take your mind straight off them.
I knew I was going somewhere interesting and adventuresome, but this really confirmed it.
Santa Theresa was the last town on the list of directions the Belgian had given me - from there he said everyone would know the way.
The road there was heart-stopping, and I wished I had changed my tyres for it.
There had been a great tyre debate at the "PARE" sign where I'd waited over three hours for the road to re-open while excavators cleared the landslide.
I'd fallen asleep in the dirt before the Peruvian men crowded around my moto had made a concencus on the tyre issue, and my laziness made the decision for me.
The river crossings were the really sketchy bit, and my road tyres just couldn't get any purchase on the wet boulders I was bowling over. I was lucky to only get wet feet.
The next day I was glad for the nap though, as I was awake before the sun and made it to the hydroelectric plant where the train tracks begin as he came up.
Getting to a rusty old metal bridge I think of Rob Reiner's film "Stand by Me" as I kneel down and touch the tracks for signs of an impending train, and hum the theme of "Paladin" as I walk across.
After an hour following the tracks they split - Juan back in Santa Theresa had definitely said to stay right, but as I was getting nearer I heard the unmistakable sound of a locomotive and realised if I crossed the tracks I could get a dramatic photo as the train came around the bend, looking as if coming straight at me.
As the train rounded the bend I see it's not going very fast, and Corey Feldman's voice echoes in my head: "Train dodge - dig it.".
I need to cross back over the tracks anyway and think I can get a quick photo of the train *actually* coming straight at me.
I've timed it well and step out in front of the train with enough time to make it, but so that it'll make an impressive photo if a bit of motion blur comes out.
My body was steeled to stop, fire the shutter and carry straight on, but when the shutter button wouldn't move I was thrown totally out of sync, and froze.
Unfortunately Wil Wheaton and River Phoenix weren't there to talk me down. The man standing at the front of the train started shouting and in my head I was going over loading the film, taking up the slack on the spool and winding off and firing the first wasted frames.
As the deafening horn sounded I realised I hadn't wound on the first good frame, but it was too late for the photo and I came back to my senses and jumped off the track, while the man cursed my stupidity, his mouth moving as if silently with the horn blaring over his wagging jaw.
I was half way over the bridge across the river to start the ascent when the cafe owner woke the official in the ticket office and I was shouted back to him, only to find out I had to walk to Aguas Calientes, the nearest town to buy a ticket which would be checked here.
After the forty minute diversion I was back at the bridge and could start the steep climb. It was tough, but I knew it would be worth it.
And there, in the clouds I found the sacred, lost and rediscovered ancient city of Machu Picchu - as beautiful and mystical as it's reputed to be.
I didn't visit the gift shop - On the way back I put one Peruvian Sol on the train track as the engine passed and it casually tossed the coin aside, flattening it. I had my souvenir for the day.
If you have immensely, painfully and dangerously cold hands I can guarantee you that this will take your mind straight off them.
I knew I was going somewhere interesting and adventuresome, but this really confirmed it.
Santa Theresa was the last town on the list of directions the Belgian had given me - from there he said everyone would know the way.
The road there was heart-stopping, and I wished I had changed my tyres for it.
There had been a great tyre debate at the "PARE" sign where I'd waited over three hours for the road to re-open while excavators cleared the landslide.
I'd fallen asleep in the dirt before the Peruvian men crowded around my moto had made a concencus on the tyre issue, and my laziness made the decision for me.
The river crossings were the really sketchy bit, and my road tyres just couldn't get any purchase on the wet boulders I was bowling over. I was lucky to only get wet feet.
The next day I was glad for the nap though, as I was awake before the sun and made it to the hydroelectric plant where the train tracks begin as he came up.
Getting to a rusty old metal bridge I think of Rob Reiner's film "Stand by Me" as I kneel down and touch the tracks for signs of an impending train, and hum the theme of "Paladin" as I walk across.
After an hour following the tracks they split - Juan back in Santa Theresa had definitely said to stay right, but as I was getting nearer I heard the unmistakable sound of a locomotive and realised if I crossed the tracks I could get a dramatic photo as the train came around the bend, looking as if coming straight at me.
As the train rounded the bend I see it's not going very fast, and Corey Feldman's voice echoes in my head: "Train dodge - dig it.".
I need to cross back over the tracks anyway and think I can get a quick photo of the train *actually* coming straight at me.
I've timed it well and step out in front of the train with enough time to make it, but so that it'll make an impressive photo if a bit of motion blur comes out.
My body was steeled to stop, fire the shutter and carry straight on, but when the shutter button wouldn't move I was thrown totally out of sync, and froze.
Unfortunately Wil Wheaton and River Phoenix weren't there to talk me down. The man standing at the front of the train started shouting and in my head I was going over loading the film, taking up the slack on the spool and winding off and firing the first wasted frames.
As the deafening horn sounded I realised I hadn't wound on the first good frame, but it was too late for the photo and I came back to my senses and jumped off the track, while the man cursed my stupidity, his mouth moving as if silently with the horn blaring over his wagging jaw.
I was half way over the bridge across the river to start the ascent when the cafe owner woke the official in the ticket office and I was shouted back to him, only to find out I had to walk to Aguas Calientes, the nearest town to buy a ticket which would be checked here.
After the forty minute diversion I was back at the bridge and could start the steep climb. It was tough, but I knew it would be worth it.
And there, in the clouds I found the sacred, lost and rediscovered ancient city of Machu Picchu - as beautiful and mystical as it's reputed to be.
I didn't visit the gift shop - On the way back I put one Peruvian Sol on the train track as the engine passed and it casually tossed the coin aside, flattening it. I had my souvenir for the day.
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