Turn Right at MacHu Picchu 12-Copy Floor Display - Mark Adams [53]
When Bingham followed Mogrovejo to the top of the ridge at Rosaspata, he took note of the mountain panorama, which seemed to match one Spaniard’s description of views that encompassed “a great part of the province of Vilcabamba.” On the far end of the bluff he spied the remains of an enormous building, which also squared with written accounts he’d read. The lintels of its doors were “beautifully finished,” as would befit a royal residence, and the stonework was of a higher quality than he had seen at Choquequirao. Between the masonry and the site’s proximity to Puquiura, Bingham was almost certain that he’d found a match. “If only we could find in this vicinity that Temple of the Sun which Calancha said was ‘near’ Vitcos,” he knew, “all doubts would be at an end.”
Once you’ve reached Huancacalle, it’s a bit easier to find Vitcos these days. John and I walked there in under an hour from Sixpac Manco. We entered along a narrow crest that widens into a main plaza, like the stem of a wineglass expanding into the bowl. Row upon row of mountains unfolded in all directions, like the pews in an enormous natural cathedral. Crossing over to the plaza reminded me of my days as an altar boy, waiting nervously in the church vestibule for the organist to begin playing. Justo had tried to explain the apus to me while we sat in Puquiura munching popcorn. “They’re sort of like God, Señor Mark. They watch over things. But it’s like faith—you have to believe in them. If you don’t believe in them, they don’t exist.”
“You’ll notice that Vitcos, Choquequirao and Machu Picchu are all at the junction of rivers or have rivers winding around them,” John said, tracing his gloved hand in a semicircle. “That’s no coincidence. Nor is it a coincidence that Machu Picchu and Espiritu Pampa”—the modern name for Bingham’s Vilcabamba—“are almost equidistant from this exact spot.”
John pulled out a notebook and sketched a diagram of the trails that led from Vitcos in Manco’s time. It looked like a child’s drawing of the sun, with lines shooting out in all directions. “Everything had to be interconnected for the Incas. Vitcos is a hub of the Inca trail system. There were four major trails to Vitcos, branching into maybe twenty others, which branched off into others. It all connected, like it was, er, Minneapolis.” He paused to let his unexpected analogy sink in. “You could have walked from the south of Colombia to the center of Chile. Look over there—that’s the trail that Bingham took to Espiritu Pampa.”
The main building at Vitcos was enormous, much larger than anything at Machu Picchu—like a Walmart built with stone. When Bingham saw it, it was largely in ruins, torn apart by Spanish religious fanatics infuriated by Inca paganism and generations of Andean treasure seekers looking for Inca gold. (Harvard’s Farabee had warned him: “Any good find ought to be thoroughly explored before leaving it or it will be destroyed by the natives.”) Vitcos has since been rebuilt by the INC, but even as rubble a hundred years ago, its suitability for the Sapa Inca must have been obvious. “It is 245 feet by 43 feet,” Bingham wrote, awestruck by the dimensions. “There were no windows, but it was lighted by thirty doorways, fifteen in front and the same in back. It contained ten large rooms, plus three hallways running from front to rear.... The principal entrances, namely, those leading to each hall, are particularly