Discover riches in Peru’s original City of Gold

By Jonathan Levi

updated 5:03 p.m. ET March 10, 2009

What follows is an adaptation of a story originally appearing in the March 2009 issue of Condé Nast Traveler.

Don Nazario Turpo died a stupid death. The driver of the bus in which he was traveling from Saylla to Cuzco didn't realize that the locals were making one of their low-tech protests — placing stones across the road without warning. Fourteen others besides Nazario died in the crash, and fifty were wounded.

I had met Nazario, a shaman, a couple of years before at Machu Picchu. After the other tourists had gone, he sat in the quiet of the ruins and told my daughter's fortune. "I'm coming back to Peru," Rebecca had whispered to me as we walked past llamas in the dusk.

"But not to Machu Picchu," Nazario had said. The fortress of the Incas had fallen to mass tourism. Every day, hundreds were arriving on buses, charging down the Inca Trail and through the Sun Gate. They came here on the five-hundred-dollar-a-head Orient-Express Hiram Bingham day-trip from Cuzco — a journey to what is fast becoming one of the world's most endangered gorgeous sites.

Nazario had mentioned another Incan citadel. No one went to this place. But it wasn't until Roger Valencia of the tour operator Auqui e-mailed me with news of Nazario's death that I wrote back to ask if he knew about this sister to Machu Picchu.

"Choquequirao," Roger answered. "Even more beautiful than Machu Picchu. When do you want to go?"

Choquequirao. Choqeqirau. Chokekiraw. I Googled as many variations as I could imagine and came up with little. I pulled my copy of “Lost City of the Incas” off the shelf and searched the index. “Lost City” was written by Hiram Bingham forty years after he had become the first Northerner, in 1911, to "discover" Machu Picchu. The book was full of Choquequirao.

Choquequirao, in fact, was Bingham's destination on his virgin trip to Peru in 1909, the city he believed to be the last holdout of the Incas during the 1530s, when Spanish conquistadors destroyed their empire. City of Gold was how the Peruvians translated the name to Bingham. The last holdout would hold the last treasure.

Once Bingham decided that Machu Picchu was the City of Gold, Choquequirao faded like a discarded high school girlfriend. But recent archaeologists have cast doubt on Bingham's theories. Choquequirao, the original City of Gold, may be getting ready for its red carpet walk.

There’s a reason Choquequirao is unknown: It is a five-day hike to reach it. I knew some people who had flown in by helicopter, but the winds in the mountains can be unpredictable. They had nearly crashed. Three times.

It’s A Snap! See the latest entries See the amazing images sent by msnbc.com readers and submit your own for next week!

At noon on an early May day, Rebecca and I found ourselves at the trailhead, squatting beside a camp stove with our guide, Ana, and our cook, Felicitas, finishing up a lunch of chicken and cauliflower. The fifth member of our party, Carlos, ran after one of our three mules, which had just disappeared off the side of the road.

For the first hour, we skipped three abreast on a wide trail. Rebecca and I looked at the panorama of Salcantay Mountain and the nearer glacial peak of Padreyoc across the river, and then at each other. This was lovely. Less than twenty miles to Choquequirao. Piece of cake.

Then we turned the corner at the town of Capuliyoc. We could make out a handful of man-made structures in the distant trees. "And that," she pointed down, "is the Apurímac." We took her word that the white thread one mile below was a river. This was the canyon of the Apurímac, twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. "And that is our path." A steep snaky thing. And then, across the river, another steep snaky thing. Down one, up the other.

Slide show   Lovely Lima Spend some time in this great South American metropolis. more photos

Our mules had navigated the seven miles to the site, Chi­quis­ca, in half the time it took us. Twenty-year-old Uriel connected a pipe to the spring, and we bathed in fresh glacial water using a plastic bottle for a showerhead. We drank tea and ate popped corn of the giant Peruvian variety in the last heat of the afternoon, as a pair of condors circled three thousand feet above us.

The next morning, we let gravity drag us down the hill to the banks of the Apurímac. One mile lower than the village of Cachora, we were in the heart of a tropical climate. Cactus lined the path parallel to the river. Before the bridge, fruit trees signaled a spring.

We began the uphill. The sun had started to shine, and although the switchbacks afforded the occasional shade, our conversation consisted of panting and pointing. Six hours after leaving the camp of Chi­quis­ca, we arrived at Marampata Hill. Once again, we had a campsite to ourselves. From our plateau, the valley opened up farther to the west and turned north, toward the jungle. We lunched on cheese and guacamole and gazed hypnotized by fatigue and the view.

Carlos brought mate de coca and hot water to our tent at six the next morning. It had rained during the night. But here, at ten thousand feet above sea level, we had a clear light for the day at Choquequirao. We left Felicitas, Carlos, and the mules to rest. The path was level. And around the next bend was Choquequirao.

MORE FROM SOUTH AMERICA

South America Section Front

13 sizzling South American beaches How to spend a couple days in Sao Paulo South America's sexiest beaches Discover riches in Peru’s original City of Gold The toast of Argentina Buenos Aires reborn Everything old is new again in Quito Off beaten track in Peru South America’s wilderness lodges Brazil: Under the equator South America Section Front   Add South America headlines to your news reader: