It’s 4:30 in the morning of day five. The porters have just come to our tent to wake us. No coffee or tea this morning ― we need to get moving to reach Intipunku, the Sun Gate, by 7 a.m., or we will miss the sunrise over Machu Picchu.

The fabled pre-Columbian town of Machu Picchu, which is thought to have been built by the Incas around 1440 A.D. and was inhabited until the Spanish conquered Peru in 1532 A.D., is located on a ridge between the mountains of Machu Picchu and Huayna Picchu in the Peruvian Andes, at an elevation of about 6,750 feet (2,057 m) above the Urubamba Valley. Unknown to the outside world until 1911, the original purpose of the “Lost City” is still being debated. There are two plausible theories that most historians believe could be true: It was an agricultural site, maximizing the valuable growing sector between the jungle and high valleys. Or it was a large observatory. There are a multitude of ruins that are related to the observation of the sky: the Torreón, where the sun shines through a window opening at dawn of the winter solstice (June 21 on the southern hemisphere), highlighting the rock in the middle of the temple; Intihuatana (Hitching Post of the Sun), where the sun could be ceremonially tied and prevented from falling lower in the sky in winter; and the Temple of the Moon, located on the far side of Huayna Picchu.

After our early morning wake-up, we are still a couple of hours away from the overlook. It is pitch black. I can feel the heavy humid fog left behind by last night’s rain. This is why the tour dossier listed “flashlight.” Unfortunately, my brand-new purchase lasted only one pre-trip check. Fortunately, Dave, my traveling partner, had a spare key-chain light which provided me with a shadowed view of the ground in front of me. The majority of our hiking party of nine must have missed the memo, as we have only four flashlights between us.

An excited and varied group of travelers prepare themselves to hike the famed Inca Trail.

An hour later, we are on the trail. It’s dark, foggy, wet and the rocks are slippery. We alternate places between the flashlights “haves” and “have-nots.” As we march, the only voices heard are from the “haves”: “Step up, step down, watch out for the rock on your left.” We are probably better off not knowing there is a 200-foot (60 m) drop-off inches from our feet.

We reach Intipunku with only 15 minutes to spare. The view at sunrise is not what we were told in the travel brochures. Three feet (1 m) in front of our faces is a white substance called “fog.”

As we inch our way down toward the Machu Picchu ruins, my anticipation is mounting. When will the fog lift? Slowly, as if someone is cranking up a curtain, Huayna Picchu — also called Sugar Loaf Mountain — begins to appear, overlooking Machu Picchu. First there are fleeting glimpses, and then finally, there it is, in its full splendor.

When I envisioned going to Machu Picchu I always thought of mysterious ruins and the famous postcard picture looking toward Huayna Picchu. But there is more to this manmade/natural wonder of the world. It is the adventure of getting there. I knew I wanted to experience the feel of the Inca culture and the energy of this “sacred valley.” I also knew I didn’t want to take the train, but needed to hike. Depending on your starting point, the Inca Trail is 25 to 33 miles (40-53 km) of semi-arid desert, breathless mountain passes and stunning tropical cloudforest. Our hike took us four nights and 25 miles (40 km) to finish.