I finally stood among the stone ruins of Machu Picchu, sweat cooling on my skin and heart thumping from the climb. Around me, mist clung to the emerald peaks of the Andes as dawn’s light slowly filtered in.
In that moment of arrival, one question echoed in my mind: was it worth it? This is my honest, first-person account of the journey; the excitement, the struggle, the sticker-shock, the crowds, and the wonder, to help you decide if climbing Machu Picchu lives up to the hype or if it might just be, dare I say, overrated.
Before the Climb
Machu Picchu had loomed in my imagination for years. As a backpacker on a shoestring budget, I had poured over travel guides and forums while planning my Peru trip. The more I researched, the more I realized this wasn’t going to be a simple, carefree adventure.
I read one traveler’s remark that while Machu Picchu is “stunning” and set in a lovely location, “the cost and effort involved and the throngs of visitors greatly detracted from [the] experience”.
Warnings like that tempered my expectations. Still, the allure of the legendary “Lost City of the Incas” was strong. I told myself I would find a way to experience it on my own terms, without breaking the bank.
Logistics quickly became a puzzle. Machu Picchu isn’t the type of place you can just show up at on a whim, especially not in 2025. I had to purchase an entrance ticket in advance (with a specific date and time slot) and reserve a route through the site’s new circuit system.
Recent regulations introduced timed entry and set circuits to control the flow of visitors. I learned that visitor numbers are capped (though “capped” is relative, up to 5,000 people per day can still enter during peak season).
To ensure I wouldn’t miss out, I bought my ticket online about a month ahead. It felt oddly like booking a concert or a flight, not the romantic expedition I’d envisioned. But this planning was necessary; as one travel site advised, Machu Picchu’s fame as a “poster child for overtourism” means you need to secure your spot well in advance.
Budget, Sky-High Costs
Budget constraints played a huge role in shaping my experience. Peru is generally affordable, but Machu Picchu is the pricey outlier. I was startled to discover that some tour companies charge $500 or more for a basic two-day visit from Cusco, and deluxe multi-day treks can run into the thousands. As a frugal traveler, I couldn’t stomach those numbers.
Fortunately, I also found advice that doing it yourself is very feasible and far cheaper. With careful planning, one can reach Machu Picchu from Cusco for under $200, and I was determined to stick to a tight budget.
To save money, I skipped the famous (but expensive) 4-day Inca Trail trek which requires booking a guided tour months in advance. Instead, I opted for a DIY adventure.
My plan was cobbled together from blog tips and traveler forums: I’d take a local bus from Cusco to the Sacred Valley, catch the cheapest train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes (the town at Machu Picchu’s base), and then hike up to the site at dawn rather than pay for the pricey shuttle bus.
This plan wasn’t the easiest option, but it was the most economical and gave me a sense of autonomy. I also liked that it included a bit of everything, winding bus rides through the Andes, a scenic train journey, and a final uphill trek on foot. Each compromise I made for budget reasons (like enduring a bumpy bus instead of a comfy private transfer) became part of the story.
In hindsight, those penny-pinching choices made the journey more challenging, but also more rewarding.
High Altitude Trials in Cusco
Long before I set foot on the Inca stone steps of Machu Picchu, I had another mountain to climb: the altitude. Stepping off the plane in Cusco (3,400 meters above sea level) felt like entering a thin-air realm.
My heart pounded after just a short flight of hostel stairs, and a mild headache set in by the first evening. Locals in Cusco don’t take altitude sickness lightly, and neither did I. I heeded the common advice to rest and acclimatize for a couple of days. My hostel offered free coca leaf tea in the lobby — an age-old remedy in the Andes.
You can drink a few cups a day without issue (most hotels in Cusco even provide it gratis to help guests adjust). I sipped the bitter, herbal brew every morning, hoping it would ward off the dizziness and fatigue. Maybe it was a placebo, but it became a comforting ritual as I prepared mentally and physically for the climb ahead.
During these acclimatization days, I explored Cusco’s cobbled streets and did short hikes to nearby ruins like Sacsayhuamán.
I was testing my legs and lungs at altitude. Huffing up those ancient fortress walls with a view of Cusco sprawling below, I couldn’t help but think: if climbing a few hundred meters here leaves me winded, what will Machu Picchu feel like?
At night, I double-checked my gear: sturdy boots, rain jacket (March is tail-end of the rainy season, after all), and tickets. The emotional build-up was intense. I felt a mix of jitters and excitement, knowing the hardest part was yet to come.
The Journey to Aguas Calientes
My trek toward Machu Picchu began in the early dawn light in Cusco, boarding a local minivan bound for Ollantaytambo. Crammed in with Quechua farmers and other backpackers, I watched the Andes roll by through dusty windows.
The bus dropped me in Ollantaytambo, a charming town of Inca-built stone streets, where I caught the train. Even the “cheap” train ticket was a splurge by my standards (about $100 round trip for the least expensive option), but the experience was memorable.
The train chugged along the Urubamba River, and through the panoramic windows I saw snow-capped peaks give way to lush cloud forests. Every so often, the ruins of some Inca terraces would whip past, reminding me that Machu Picchu wasn’t the only treasure hidden in these mountains.
When I arrived in Aguas Calientes (officially renamed Machu Picchu Pueblo), it felt like a frontier town crossed with a tourist bazaar. The single main street was lined with hostels, souvenir markets, and restaurants all beckoning the hundreds of new arrivals.
I could sense that nearly everyone in town was on the same mission: we were all pilgrims in a way, gathered at the gateway to Machu Picchu, milling about with excitement for the big day to come.
Prices here were double what they were in Cusco; even a bottle of water cost a small fortune. I grabbed a simple dinner (margherita pizza with a surreal view of jungle cliffs towering above the rooftops) and headed to bed early. The real adventure would start before sunrise.
Climbing in the Pre-Dawn Darkness
At 4:30 AM my alarm shattered the quiet. I dragged myself out of bed in the dark, laced my boots, and tiptoed out of the hostel as other travelers were doing the same.
The air was cool and thick with humidity from the river roaring nearby. Instead of lining up for the first buses, I decided to climb up to Machu Picchu on foot, joining a cluster of hikers at the Puente Ruinas bridge checkpoint just as it opened at 5:00 AM.
The sky was still black. By the light of headlamps and dawn’s earliest glow, we started ascending the infamous stone steps. There are over 1,600 steps from the river up to the site, a path that zigzags under the buses crawling up the switchbacks. I felt each and every step.
My legs, already weary from days of trekking, begged me to stop, but the anticipation kept me going. It was a surreal sight: a chain of determined hikers in the semi-darkness, all silently trudging upward, interrupted only by the occasional gasp for breath or the call of a bird awakening in the jungle around us.
After about an hour of relentless uphill, I reached the top. It was just before 6:00 AM and the sky was beginning to lighten. I emerged from the hiking trail onto the road near the entrance and suddenly found myself among a large crowd of people who had come up by bus.
We all funneled toward the main gate, where guards checked passports and entry tickets. The atmosphere was a mix of grogginess and giddy excitement. I was sweaty and exhausted, but I had made it to Machu Picchu’s doorstep at last.
First Glimpse of the Lost City
Entering Machu Picchu felt both triumphant and strangely controlled. A one-way circuit sign directed me up a short path of terraces. I climbed a few more steps, turned a corner and there it was.
The iconic view unfolded before my eyes like a dream made real: terraces upon terraces of green led down to the complex of stone temples and houses, and behind them the sharp peak of Huayna Picchu pierced the sky, draped in ribbons of cloud. It’s a scene I’d seen countless times in photos, yet encountering it in person sent a chill down my spine.
For a moment, I forgot the crowds and the effort and just stood there, breathless, in awe of the sheer scale and backdrop. Machu Picchu sprawls over a ridge high above a bend in the Urubamba River, and from this vantage point, the surrounding mountains encircle the site like guardians. I could see why this place is heralded as a wonder: it truly is a breathtaking blend of human architecture and natural spectacle.
But reality set in quickly. I wasn’t alone at this panoramic perch — far from it. Around me, dozens of other travelers were vying for the same perfect photo. Selfie sticks bobbed into my line of sight; a tour guide’s flag waved on one side and a group of chatting visitors pressed on the other.
The sacred silence I had hoped to feel was punctuated by the clicks of cameras and murmurs of “wow” in various languages. It was hard to take a photo without strangers in the frame. I realized that I was now part of that throng of tourists I’d been worried about. The intimacy of the moment was diluted by the sheer number of people sharing it.
Amid Ruins and Crowds
Once past the initial viewpoint, I began to explore the city’s ruins along the designated route. The circuit led me through narrow stone pathways and up and down farming terraces.
I passed the Temple of the Sun, with its perfectly curved stone wall, and the Intihuatana (the ancient sun dial stone) roped off to prevent touching. Each spot was fascinating, but I often had to wait for a tour group to move along before I could enter a space or snap a picture.
Park rangers were stationed throughout, politely but firmly ensuring everyone kept moving in the right direction and didn’t stray off the marked paths. It struck me that Machu Picchu has become a well-oiled machine of tourism. Everything ran orderly, but that also meant there was little room for spontaneous wandering or solitary discovery.
Llamas casually graze on Machu Picchu’s terraces, unperturbed by the crowds. These fluffy residents are as much a part of the landscape as the stone temples and terraces. Spotting a llama munching grass with the misty mountains behind it was a delightful reminder that life carries on here as it has for centuries.
They help keep the grass trimmed and add a touch of living history to the site, a photogenic bonus to an already stunning scene.
At one point, I took a detour to sit on a quiet terrace ledge away from the main path. Below me, the core of the city bustled with hundreds of tiny figures in colorful rain jackets, but in my little corner I found a moment of peace. A llama wandered near, nibbling at the ground.
I could hear the distant rush of the river far below and the wind rustling through the ichu grass. In that moment, I felt a connection to Machu Picchu that had been elusive earlier. It was as if I needed to step away from the human commotion to truly sense the spirit of the place.
Significance and Reflection at the Summit
Sitting there on that stone ledge, I reflected on what Machu Picchu means to me, to travelers, and to Peru. This site was built in the 15th century, likely as an estate for the Inca Emperor Pachacutec, and it was abandoned not long after the Spanish conquest (the Spanish never found it).
It remained hidden from the wider world until 1911, when explorer Hiram Bingham rediscovered it and introduced it to international attention. Knowing this history, I felt a profound respect.
I tried to imagine the citadel in its heyday: priests conducting ceremonies at dawn, farmers tending terraces of maize, the sound of quena flutes echoing off the mountains. The stones around me weren’t just rocks; they were storytellers of a lost civilization.
Many visitors (and certainly the local guides) speak of Machu Picchu’s spiritual energy. Some even believe the site sits on a special convergence of earth energies or ley lines. I’ll admit, I was a bit skeptical of these mystical claims at first. But after the sensory overload of the morning, as I allowed myself to be still, I began to understand what people meant.
There is a unique feeling here — a mix of awe, serenity, and reverence that’s hard to articulate. In fact, countless tourists report experiencing a difficult-to-explain energy at Machu Picchu.
Whether it’s the altitude, the grandeur of the scenery, or something more metaphysical, I felt a calm wash over me that I hadn’t felt elsewhere on my travels. At spots like the Sacred Rock and the Guardian’s House (where you get that postcard view), you can’t help but feel a bit of that ancient pulse of the place. Perhaps it’s just the power of imagination, but it was real to me in those minutes of quiet reflection.
Before leaving, I paused at the Sun Gate (Intipunku) — a perch on a nearby trail where Inca Trail hikers get their first glimpse of Machu Picchu at sunrise. By late morning the Sun Gate was nearly empty, giving me one last panoramic look at the citadel from afar.
The city now was lit in full daylight, and I could trace the snaking path of the morning’s climb and the switchback road. I felt a swell of gratitude and relief. I had made it here on my own terms and survived the altitude, the crowds, and my own expectations. Standing at Intipunku, I whispered a thank you to the Andes, or maybe to the Incas, for letting me through.
Was Machu Picchu Overrated or Worth It?
On the train ride back to Cusco, I finally had time to digest the experience. So, is climbing Machu Picchu overrated? In all honesty, my answer is a mixed one. Machu Picchu is absolutely extraordinary, a place of staggering beauty and historical significance that genuinely left me in awe.
I’ll never forget that first sight of the ruins emerging from the clouds; it sent shivers down my spine. The cultural and spiritual weight of the site is palpable if you give it a chance. In those terms, it lived up to its nearly mythic reputation.
However, the experience around Machu Picchu – the logistics, the cost, the crowds – did tarnish the magic a bit. It’s hard for any location to fully meet expectations when it’s burdened by such hype. I found myself at times frustrated, elbow-to-elbow with strangers in narrow ruins, or sweating in a long line, thinking that this wasn’t the intimate Indiana Jones moment I had envisioned.
I now understand why some travelers say Machu Picchu “isn’t all it’s cracked up to be”. The truth is, the place itself is magnificent, but the modern tourist circus that comes with it can make the experience feel commercial and hectic.
One travel writer went so far as to call Machu Picchu an “archaeological Disneyland”, and standing amid the selfie-sticks, I saw where that comparison comes from.
So, is it overrated? Maybe just a little. If by “overrated” we mean drowning in its own popularity, then yes – the mystique can get a bit lost in the crowd. Yet, despite all that, I am genuinely glad I went.
In the end, the journey taught me a lot about balancing expectation with reality.