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Mr. Wright, a water engineering specialist, worked with close cooperation with a government archaeological expert from Peru headquarters. His particular specialized interest was the drinking and waste disposal system for the people who inhabitated the site, which is called a "palace" but is actually much more than that. He also detailed the construction of the agricultural terraces. It is a scholastic textbook of the first rank.
Machu Picchu; A Civil Engineering Marvel has application, understandability and appeal for such diverse individuals as anthropologists, archaeologists, travelers, scenery-lovers and historians, as well as engineers. Machu Picchu buffs like myself will certainly enjoy the book's refreshing, new angle.
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As an anthropologist myself, I wish that I had had a copy of a guidebook even half as good as that authored by Ruth Wright and Alfredo Valencia Zegarra. Combining a clearly written text with intriguing photos and practical diagrams, The Machu Picchu Guidebook is the single best publication on this site that I have seen. While written primarily for the astute traveler, it will be of use to professionals as well.
My own work with indigenous water systems in places like Guyana and Indonesia led to my cursory examination in 1982 of the system at Machu Picchu. It proved fascinating, but I had little time for study. To their credit, Ruth Wright and her husband, Ken Wright (in conjunction with a number of their colleagues from the U.S. and Peru) instituted a remarkably thorough archaeological/engineering investigation of this Incan system in the 1990s. This same degree of care and attention to detail is seen in the guidebook, which had its genesis in their archaeological research.
In conclusion, it should be noted that Ruth Wright is a former chair of the Rocky Mountain Chapter of The Explorers Club. Her book brings an explorer's enthusiasm to Machu Picchu, while maintaining high standards of authorship.
Buy it! Read it! Read it again!
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Of course the book is full of recountings of mistakes and scares, from embarrassingly split pants to humorous misunderstandings between the gringos and the natives (including a young girl who precipitously falls in love with the author). This is not a how-to manual, but those preparing to explore the area would do well to heed Thomson's words on snakes, guinea pigs, gnats, pack mules, and especially, guides. Much of the book is not just a history of the Incas, but a history of exploration of Inca sites. There are fine summary portraits here of an assortment of strange characters who have trekked some of these paths before Thomson. A prime one was Hiram Bingham, the discoverer of Machu Picchu, who thought erroneously that it was a religious monument to the Virgins of the Sun. This has sparked a lot of New Age nonsense. It was a winter camp for the Inca court, and Thomson's own view of the exalted position of Machu Picchu is simply that the Incas had a fondness, just as we do, for magnificent mountain views.
Thomson's exhilarating and self-deprecatingly humorous account of his own travels vies with the ancient history and modern history revealed here. All are expertly told. Thomson follows a trail of Inca history to the almost forgotten site of Vilcabamba, still unexcavated and obscured by thick vegetation. It was the last remnant of the great Inca Empire. Digressions of descriptions of the modern towns he goes through, and a welcome appreciation of the great Cuzco photographer Martin Chambi, are easy bypaths on the way. The book has excellent maps, a glossary of terms from the Spanish and the local Quechua language, and an genealogical chart of the Inca emperors. This is a thoroughly enjoyable book to put our currently fashionable fascination with Inca sites in a realistic context.
Lured to Peru by the story of Llactapata, a ruin discovered by noted explorer Hiram Bingham but lost again beneath the vines and trees of Peru's jungle, Thomson and his team embarked upon a journey to rediscover the missing ruin. Accompanied by local guides, Thomson hiked the Inca trail through the Andean Mountains to his destination --- encountering entertaining locals, interesting cuisine, swarms of gnats and the occasional snake. Nearly twenty years after his first excursion, Thomson would return to Peru to resume his studies of the Inca ruins.
THE WHITE ROCK is not only the story of Thomson's explorations, but also the history of the Inca culture and the archaeologists and explorers who have recorded it. Thomson never hesitates to give credit where it is due, a notable contrast to the often overblown egos of explorers. True to documentarian form, Thomson offers an unbiased, honest account of his travels in Peru, highlighting various aspects of its culture, arts and inhabitants. He also points out what he believes are discrepancies in the historical chronicle of the Incas and offers plausible alternatives. A combination of a history text and travel memoir, THE WHITE ROCK offers the reader much more than other books in either of these genres. Thomson's balance of humor and scholarship makes for an enjoyable reading experience, and the forty-five black and white photographs beautifully illustrate the mystical draw of the Incas.
--- Reviewed by Melissa Brown
The book is thouroughly researched, well-written and easy to understand. There are more foods mentioned than those I have just described, so you'll have to read the book.
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As it happens, this also dovetails with Shah's interest in flight (...), and after some serious research into scant legends of pre-Wright flight, he takes the Frenchman's advice.
Shah, born into Afghan nobility, brought up in Britain, combines a neophyte's wariness with a a scholar's penchant for research and a dogged will to follow the clues anywhere. As a writer, his gift for capturing the absurd is surpassed only by his ability to laugh at himself, making for an aborbing, educational and hilarious trip through the remoter regions of Peru and Inca culture.
Ridiculously over-supplied, Shah struggles with his mounds of luggage from campsite to crowded bus and train, from dusty village to timeless ruins to, at last, the jungles of the Amazon rain forest. To start, a four-day backpacking trip across mountain passes brings him to sunrise over the lost Inca city of Macchu Pichu, missed by the gold-hunting conquistadors, but overrun by busloads of modern tourists. Here Shah examines a temple dedicated to the condor, but his guide tells him his obsession with flight misses the point. " 'Whether the Incas flew or not is irrelevant,' she said. 'Instead, you must ask why they wanted to fly.' " Shah takes this advice to heart and incorporates the spiritual element into his quest.
Passing the time with shopkeepers, launderers, expatriates and anyone else who crosses his path, Shah acquires good luck totems and encounters the looted graves of Peru's mummies, the mummies themselves littering the ground. In small museums he finds hundreds of woven birdmen in the mummies' exquisite funerary robes. He pauses in a town famous for vampires (to tourists anyway) and stays in a deserted luxury hotel, haunted by a bloodthirsty ghost. He reaches his own conclusions about the Nazca Lines, ancient desert etchings of animals whose forms can only be seen from the sky. He meets several shaman, one of whom cures Shah's troubled mind with a rite which involves a guinea pig and a prohibition against shaking hands for 40 days. Others use datura or curare.
Meandering, Shah makes his way toward the Shuar, the Birdmen, who live still in the remote jungle. A group of missionaries was murdered only the previous month for arriving with empty hands, he's told. Loaded with gifts as well as his state-of-the-art gear, Shah at last embarks in search of the tribes and their ayahuasca, a mind-altering "Vine of the Dead," their secret of flight.
His guide is a taciturn naturalist and Vietnam vet, an American named Richard, who seldom sleeps. The mysteries of nature are Richard's passion...Their transportation is a half-rotten hulk and after their first night, Shah discovers his shoes have been gnawed by rats. He decrees death to the rodents but the boat is shortly overrun with cockroaches and then wolf spiders - staples of the rats' diet. At a shoreside village, Shah buys new rats.
This is only the beginning. After arriving at his first Shuar village (...) Shah is taken to a shaman in the jungle and his description of the trip perfectly captures the difficulty of the modern traveler: "..." By the time he arrives at the Shaman's village he contemplates taking up life there. "..." But only here, deep in its natural home, can he fulfill his desire and learn the Shuar's ancient secret of flight.
Reader's of Shah's previous book, "Sorcerer's Apprentice" (a quest for magic in India) will recognize his unique affinity for the bizarre and surreal encountered while fulfilling his avid curiosity for the knowledge and traditions of other cultures. His writing is elegant, witty and often enigmatic and his eyewitness information is enhanced with meticulous research, seamlessly woven into the narrative. Shah's travel writing is in a class by itself.
After some research, he starts, of course, at the current hotspot for archeological tourism, Machu Picchu, which he finds looks from above like a condor. He goes to Nazca, the region of the famous patterns in the desert that only make sense when seen from high above. He is pursued by a Parisienne who is looking for a father for her children, and who comes equipped with a dried lama fetus which can be made, she says, into an aphrodisiac soup. In the village of Trompeteros, he attends with all the citizens the beauty contest sponsored by Inca Brand Condoms. (The master of ceremonies declares that the beauties on the stage were "clean-living girls who always used an Inca condom.") The crowd goes wild over every entrant, especially number six, who for the talent portion performs a dance which includes sucking live tree grubs from the floor and eating them. The search loops around into the upper Amazon regions, when Shah is convinced that rather than physical flight, the birdmen were psychic, or psychedelic, fliers. The experts in such flying were the Shuar tribe, the headshrinkers themselves. He finds a Vietnam vet who is only at home in the jungle, to act as guide and to hire a boat, which turns out to be rotten and full of rats and wolf spiders. After a trip of hellish tortures, they wind up in Shuar country only to be shocked: the Shuars have not only given up headshrinking and other tribal rituals, they have not only become Christians, but they have become evangelists. The missionaries have not, however, taken what would have been the fatuous step of trying to make the tribesmen abstain from ayahuasca, a hallucinogen. Shah's trip on it is the climax of the book. Yes, there were Inca birdmen.
This is a hilarious, picaresque tale which is not without its scholarly moments; Shah has done a good deal of research, and even has appendices to tell about hallucinogens and the theory of shrunken heads. There is a good deal of more-or-less practical information; read this book and you will ever after be able to perform a simple check to tell a good shrunken head from a bad one. His Vietnam vet dispenses the Five Rules of Jungle Travel: "One: chop stems downward and as low to the ground as possible; then they'll fall away from the path. Two: go slow, as speed only snags you on fish-hook thorns. Three: rest frequently and drink liquid. Four: love the jungle, don't hate it. Five: check your groin for parasites twice an hour." Words to live by. And if, by chance, the closest you get to a jungle expedition is to be reading this merry recollection, you will consider yourself lucky.
There is a legend that a great bird which, if found, would confer ultimate fulfillment for the seeker. It drops a feather within the mundane where an ordinary man or woman may find it, and, from this single clue, find the fabulous bird. This theme was exploited by Stephen Spielberg in "Close Encounters of the Third Time," where Richard Dryfus begins with the slightest hint of a meeting place he must attain for a rendexvous with superior beings beyond earth, then slowly, intuitively builds a model of the site until he recognizes the place and goes there, arriveing just in time.
While TRAIL OF FEATHERS is ostensibly a literal, if zany, hike through the jungles of Peru in search of the reality behind winged men woven into the ancient textiles of the region, it bears all of the elements of a mythic search for ultimate meaning. Several contacts scold the author for his obsession with flying, which, they say, is nothing. All that counts, they tell him, is the reason for flight and the treasure brought back to earth.
The author's search for the flying men of Peru seems akin to the Australian aboriginee "walk about." As Shah again and again chooses the most uncomfortable means of travel and lodging, I could not help suspecting that his was a ritual journey and that the trail, not the feathers nor the flying, was the destination.
Reading what seemed quite similar to Latin American "magical reality," I learned an enormous amount about Peru's real history, geography and its people--far more, I felt, than I could have learned in any other format, unless I went there myself and took the same risks as the author. That he emerged alive would seem to place the whole tale in question but for the Vietnam vet and jungle expert who shows up just in time to guide Shah and to keep him alive in the process. I got the feeling that there was a hidden hand behind this particular journey. I don't mean mysticism. Hints, such as the ease with which Shah could replenish as needed lost money, point to a human infastructure. The book not only solves dozens of mysteries. It's reading was for me a mysterious journey in its own right.
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