By Patrick Smith

Letdowns are common for those who travel frequently. Magazines and brochures promise exquisite beaches, breathtaking views and quaint little towns that never quite match up when finally seen in person. Like a deceptive sales pitch, the right camera angle and a seductive paragraph or two can embellish the drama of even the most colorless locale. This is an age of pay phones in the tropical jungle and souvenir hawkers on the African savanna. Until recently I'd just about given up on finding a genuinely jaw-dropping destination -- a spot that exceeded its billing. Granted, you can hike the Indonesian rainforest for a month, or climb Mount Everest for that matter, but for those like me who don't have time for what the serious travel folk call 'cultural immersion,' it seemed like there was nowhere that could truly leave me spellbound.

Then I went to Peru. After more than thirty countries in ten years, the lost Inca city of Machu Picchu, high in the Peruvian Andes, is the one location that not only exceeded my expectations, but blew them away. I'd saved Machu Picchu for the last few days of a week-long Peruvian vacation. My travel journal was already full of superlatives and exclamation points from my visit to the famous Nazca Lines -- the enormous carvings along the country's moonscape desert coast, which some believe were used as landing strips by extraterrestrial visitors thousands of years ago. After viewing the lines by air from a small plane, itself one of the world's not-to-be-missed experiences, I made up my mind that I'd finally seen it all, that Machu Picchu could only be a disappointment by comparison.

I'd prepared extensively for this trip. Much of this preparation involved mustering the courage for a solo journey in a country with a dubious reputation among travelers. You're bombarded with warnings and advisories about the dangers there. Even adventure-advocates like Lonely Planet, authors of the most progressive travel books around, make no apologies, admonishing tourists to wrap chicken wire around their backpacks to discourage razor-thieves from slashing them open. My seat-mate enroute to Lima, a Peruvian schoolteacher, was shocked to learn of my plans. 'You're very brave,' she said with a look I'll never forget, and when the plane finally touched down I was so frightened I could barely get my luggage off the carousel. After a night's rest the nerves wore off, and in the end I found Peru no more dangerous than anywhere else I've had my passport stamped.

The Sendero Luminoso, or Shining Path, the guerrilla terrorists who made news in the 1980s (not the Tupac Amaru of more recent fame) are now a non-issue in all but the most remote locations. Robbery, primarily snatch-theft and pickpocketing, has always been a problem in the cities, but is easily avoided by common sense precautions. For best results avoid Lima, the polluted capital whose enormous barrios are the worst I have ever seen. Granted, your flight will land at its dumpy Jorge Chávez airport, and you'll need to spend a night or two in-transit between other Peruvian cities, but an afternoon of sightseeing there is enough.

Altitude sickness in Cuzco proved a much bigger reality than getting my wallet stolen. Technically known as hypoxia, altitude sickness can include nausea, dizziness, and as in my case, an intolerably painful headache. Symptoms pass after a day or so -- longer for smokers -- but an acclimation period is crucial if you're planning to hike or set out by foot on the Inca Trail.

At eleven thousand feet in the Andes, picturesque Cuzco is the oldest continuously inhabited city in South America, and is the terminus for excursions to Machu Picchu. An hour's flight from Lima, it is also the continent's most bustling tourist hub, where backpackers and trekkers congregate perennially by the thousands. This, combined with the mountainous geography, poses a striking similarity to Nepal's Kathmandu or Thailand's Chiang Mai.

Cuzco traces its origins to pre-Inca times, though popular legend has the city founded around the twelfth century by Manco Capac, the first Inca ruler. The name means 'earth's navel' in Quechua, the language still spoken by Capac's descendants. It was the heart of the hemisphere's most important civilization when the Spanish conquistadors arrived in 1533, plundering its gold and killing thousands, and it's from here that Pizzaro established colonial control of the empire. In the cathedral on the Plaza de Armas, you can see the very chair from which he ruled. Many of the town's buildings are built on original Inca foundations. Plan to spend at least a couple of nights. In addition to its proximity to Machu Picchu, the city is an ideal base for a number of excursions to nearby ruins and towns. Accommodations run the usual gamut from three-dollar hostels to more pricey and comfortable rooms, but even the high-end hotels, like most everything in Peru, are surprisingly inexpensive.

From Cuzco to Machu Picchu it's a four-hour train ride. Tickets, usually sold as part of a package, can be bought in any of countless agencies scattered throughout town. Prices vary little and they all use the same train, known as the autovagon or 'tourist train.' There's no other way unless you hike the Inca Trail, as those with the time (about three days) and inclination often do. Any of the agencies rent gear for the hike. The rail journey is cheap, safe, and scenic, beginning with a series of steep switchbacks as you navigate Cuzco's hills.

Once at Puentas Ruinas station, passengers transfer to buses for the two-thousand foot climb to the ruins of Machu Picchu. Anywhere accessible by a crowded bus, you think, is destined to be a letdown. But don't be fooled. As the bus begins its dramatic zigzag ascent, you quickly get a sense of what you're in for. Voices hush as the engine roars and strains, and mouths drop open as each turn thrusts another impossibly spectacular mountainscape into view. Passengers grip the handrails like the metal bars of a roller coaster. The road itself is wide and safe, but the sheer cliffs and jutting peaks add perilous excitement to the climb. Added theatrics are provided by young Quechua children. The kids live below, but climb the mountain by foot to head off the buses. They yell and wave as you pass, then cut sideways through the trees to seemingly appear from nowhere around each bend.

Atop the ruins, passengers stagger from the buses in a daze. An observation point sits just head of the drop-off zone, and everyone walks over to stare in disbelief at the unearthly panorama. Mountains surround the site. But these are not Alpine peaks. Their magnificence is not the sublime, sweeping majesty of the Alps or Rockies. Rather, they are ghastly caricatures of mountains -- fierce protrusions of verdant green, like a preschooler's crayon rendering, graceless and jagged in all directions. You're looking at what an American explorer and historian named Hiram Bingham discovered first saw in 1911. Since the Incas, only a few Quechua peasants who farmed nearby were aware of its existence. Before Bingham, not even the conquistadors knew it was there.

The city's remains lie on a grassy plateau reached by a path from the main gate. You'll probably have paid for your admission -- about $10 for a day's pass -- back in Cuzco. If you opt for a two-day visit, the second day is slightly cheaper. A night-time ticket, popular during full moon, is also available. English-speaking guides offer comprehensive walking tours of the vast labyrinth of temples, altars, staircases and houses. The scale and complexity of the place is remarkable. You'll stop at the Intihuatana -- a carved stone pillar used as an astronomical calendar. Archaeologists are unsure of Machu Picchu's purpose to the Incas, and the guides will offer long-winded opinions as to why the site was chosen. But as one Californian blared out during my visit there, 'maybe they just liked the view.'

To fully appreciate Machu Picchu, a two-day visit is strongly recommended. There's a comfortable, unimposing lodge and restaurant on the premises, just outside the entrance. Again, reservations can be made and paid for in Cuzco. Rooms offer views of Huayna Picchu, which is the famous triangular peak that forms the centerpiece of the traditional Machu Picchu promo-shot. At $40 for the night, this is easily one of the world's best hotel values. The night's stay also offers a sunrise excursion into the ruins. Officially the gate opens at dawn, but if the guards are in a good mood, or persuaded with a few dollars, you can find your way in before first light. On most days only a few visitors do this, and you might have the entire site, and seemingly the rest of the world, to yourself. Your only companions will be the wild alpaca (they're not llamas) that roam freely throughout the grounds, feeding on wild grass. The morning fog burns away slowly, and the mountains seem to materialize from the haze. As the sun eclipses their summits, the changes in color are very beautiful. A second afternoon allows plenty of time for solo exploration, like an exhilarating hike to the top of Huayna Picchu.

Depending on the time of year, it doesn't get crowded until midday. May through September are the busier dry months, while a rainy season visit runs the risk of vista-obscuring clouds. Fear not the high season: a three-story Burger King in the middle of the Sacred Plaza wouldn't temper the grandeur. All of Peru's mystical energy comes to a focus here, the irony being that despite its testament to human endeavor, nowhere on the planet offers more detachment from things earthly. Like the Nazca Lines, this is an indescribably uncanny place, and if a spaceship suddenly hummed to a landing nearby, it would hardly seem extraordinary.

With all due respect to its history and anthropological importance, it's the visual impact of Machu Picchu that is its legacy. Meditating on the scenery, you'll rack your brain for adjectives for those postcards home. But trying to describe Machu Picchu is like trying to describe that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you wake from a dream, or run into your ex-girlfriend. You'll try nonetheless, just as I've done many times. You'll rant, rave, and flail your arms around in desperate mimicry of that unforgettable view. People will nod and say 'wow', but you'll know they just don't understand. While there are plenty of amazing vantage points in the world, this is the one that's truly ineffable.