Some trips you plan. This one you build toward — slowly, deliberately, the way the Inca built their roads through the mountains. We're starting low, in the salt air of Lima, before climbing into the Sacred Valley to let our bodies catch up with our excitement. There's no rushing this one. We give ourselves the time the Andes ask for.
From the Valley, we wander through villages that have been weaving the same patterns for centuries, past salt pans carved into hillsides and ruins that still don't fully explain themselves. We eat well. We move slowly. We let Peru work on us a little before we ask it for the big moment.
Then comes the train through the gorge, the night in the cloud forest, and the morning we've all been waiting for — Machu Picchu, before the crowds arrive, mist still caught in the stone. We climb up into a citadel that disappeared from the world for centuries and somehow feel like we found it ourselves.
We close the trip in Cusco, the old Inca capital, with its cathedrals built on temple foundations and its markets that haven't slowed down in five hundred years. Eleven days. Three altitudes. One lost city. And a group of women who walked into the mountains together and came out a little more sure of themselves.
We climb up before the crowds arrive, while the mist is still tangled in the stone. There's a version of this place almost no one sees — we're going to see it.
Thousands of hand-cut pools, glittering white against the hillside, still worked the same way they were centuries ago. It doesn't look real until you're standing in it.
Ceviche by the ocean, market stalls stacked with fruit we don't have names for, and a food scene that's quietly become one of the best on earth. We're not rushing this part.
Stalls stacked with alpaca wool, silver, and produce in colors we don't have words for, set against terraced hillsides the Inca carved by hand. We wander, we haggle a little, we buy more than we planned to.
Inca stonework holds up colonial walls that have stood for five hundred years. We wander the old capital and let it tell us its own story.
We sit with local weavers carrying on a tradition older than the Inca empire itself, learning the patterns that have always meant something here.
After landing in Lima, hop in a taxi and make your way to our hotel tucked into a quiet street in Miraflores, just steps from a pre-Inca pyramid that's been standing there since long before anyone thought to call this city Lima. Drop your bags, take a beat to let it sink in, and then step outside into one of South America's most underrated capitals — colonial balconies, a gray coastal mist the locals call garúa, and cliffs that drop straight down to the Pacific just a few blocks away. Wander at your own pace, breathe it all in, and let Lima work its magic on you.
We'll get everyone settled in, and then come together for a welcome dinner at a criollo spot tucked into a side street — candlelit tables, a pisco sour in hand before the menus even arrive, and a soundtrack of guitar drifting in from somewhere in the back. It's the first toast of the trip, the first round of introductions, and the first taste of what the next ten days are going to feel like.
The morning starts close to home, at the ancient adobe pyramid sitting quietly in the middle of Miraflores, predating the Inca by a thousand years. Those who want to climb to the top can; the rest of us are just as happy walking the grounds and letting our guide explain how a city built itself up around something this old without ever quite getting used to it.
From there we head into Lima's real specialty: lunch. We walk through a market piled high with fruit none of us can name, then settle in for a ceviche-making demonstration — raw fish, citrus, chili, nothing else, built right in front of us — followed by a proper sit-down meal and a pisco sour to go with it. The afternoon is unstructured from there. Wander back toward the cliffs, find a café with a view of the Pacific, or just keep eating your way through whatever this city puts in front of you. Tomorrow we trade the coast for the mountains, so today's the day to get your fill of sea level.
Today we trade the Pacific for the Andes, and the shift happens fast enough to take your breath away — literally. A short flight lifts us over snow-capped peaks and sets us down in Cusco, where the altitude hits everyone a little differently in those first few steps off the plane. We don't stick around to adjust. Instead, we load up and wind our way down into the Sacred Valley by road, watching fields of the same giant white corn the Inca were growing here centuries ago roll past the windows, the elevation easing with every mile.
By the time we reach our hotel in Urubamba, the afternoon light is going gold over the mountains, and the garden cottages with their stone fireplaces feel like exactly the kind of place we want to land in after a day like this. We come together for a group dinner at the hotel, coca tea poured all around, toasting the fact that we made it down out of the thin air together and in one piece.
The morning takes us up into the hills to Chinchero, a village that's been weaving the same patterns for longer than anyone can date — some older than the Inca themselves. Those who want to try the loom can; the rest of us are just as happy watching, letting a local weaver explain how a single piece can take weeks, sometimes months, without ever once feeling rushed about it.
From there it's down into Pisac, where Inca terraces climb the hillside above a market that takes over the entire town square. We wander the stalls together, haggle a little, and inevitably walk away with more alpaca wool and silver than any of us planned on. For anyone with energy left, the ruins above town are worth the climb — sweeping views over the valley, stonework that's outlasted empires. The rest of the afternoon is yours, however you want to spend it.
The morning takes us to Maras, where thousands of hand-cut salt pools spill down the mountainside in a pattern that's been worked the same way for centuries. From there it's a short ride to Moray, the strange circular terraces the Inca carved into the earth — nobody's entirely sure if it was an agricultural lab or something else, and standing in the middle of it, that mystery is half the fun.
The afternoon brings us to Ollantaytambo, one of the few towns in Peru where Inca walls still form the foundation of people's homes. Those who want to climb the terraced ruins above town can; the rest of us are just as happy wandering the original stone streets below, letting our guide point out which walls have survived five hundred years and which ones haven't. Tonight we settle in early — tomorrow morning the train comes for us, and the Sacred Valley hands us off to the mountains.
The morning hands us off to the train, and the next couple of hours might be the best couch you've ever ridden through — the valley narrows, the river picks up speed, and the mountains close in on both sides until they're practically close enough to touch. Somewhere in there, the cloud forest takes over, and Aguas Calientes appears almost out of nowhere, tucked into the bottom of a gorge like it's been hiding there the whole time.
The rest of the day is loose by design. Soak in the hot springs the town is named for, wander the market stalls along the river, or just find a spot with a view and let the altitude finally ease all the way out of your legs. Whatever you do, get to bed early — tomorrow morning we're up before the sun for the one moment this whole trip's been building toward.
We gather for breakfast early today, well before sunrise, before piling onto one of the first buses up the mountain and switchbacking through the dark while the rest of the world is still asleep. By the time we reach the gate, the sky's just starting to lighten, and walking into the citadel while the mist is still tangled in the stone is something photos never quite capture, no matter how many times you've seen them. Our guide walks us through the temples and terraces, but there's also plenty of time to just stand there and let it sink in — this place disappeared from the world for centuries, and somehow we still feel like we're the ones finding it.
By early afternoon we're back down in Aguas Calientes, and the rest of the day is ours to recover however we want — back to the hot springs, a long lunch with a view of the river, or just a nap with the windows open.
The train carries us back to Cusco today, and it's the long way around — but the long way is the good way out here. The gorge opens up slowly, the river widens, and the cloud forest gives way to high open country dotted with grazing alpaca and stone farmhouses that look like they haven't changed in a few hundred years. Somewhere in there the light goes gold, the way it does most afternoons in the Andes, and half the group ends up with their faces pressed to the window for the same view they already saw on the way in.
We roll into Cusco by early evening and check into our hotel right on the Plaza de Armas, the cathedral and the mountains both visible from the windows. The rest of the night is loose — wander the square, find a café, or just sit with a coca tea and let the last leg of this trip start to sink in. Tomorrow Cusco shows us everything it's got.
The morning belongs to the city itself. We wander the Plaza de Armas together, step into the cathedral where colonial saints hang next to paintings of guinea pig feasts and Andean constellations, and climb the narrow streets of San Blas, where artists have been setting up shop in the same whitewashed houses for generations. Cusco does this thing no other city on the trip quite manages — colonial balconies sitting directly on top of Inca foundations, like the empire never actually left, it just got built over.
In the afternoon we head up to Sacsayhuamán, where the stonework gets almost absurd — boulders the size of cars, fitted together so precisely you couldn't slide a knife blade between them, and nobody's fully explained how they pulled it off. Those who want to keep climbing can follow the trail further up for sweeping views over the whole city; the rest of us are just as happy wandering the grounds at our own pace, trying to wrap our heads around how any of this got built without a single piece of modern equipment.
The morning takes us just outside the city to Tambomachay, where water still runs through Inca stone channels exactly the way it did five hundred years ago — nobody's entirely sure if it was a bath, a shrine, or both, and standing there listening to it, that ambiguity feels strangely fitting for a trip that's been full of questions nobody's fully answered. The site sits along the same road as Puka Pukara and Q'enqo, so we make a loop of it, stopping at whichever ruins catch our interest along the way.
Tonight is the last night, and we're not letting it pass quietly. We gather for a farewell dinner back in Cusco — a long table, good Andean food, and more pisco than is probably wise, all in the name of one final toast to eleven days that took us from sea level to thin Andean air and back, three altitudes, one lost city, and a group of women who walked into the mountains together and came out a little more sure of themselves.
This morning we check out of our hotel and say goodbye to Cusco. Make your way to the airport for your flight home, or stay on a little longer if Peru hasn't let go of you yet — it has a way of doing that to people. Either way, take the drive to the airport slow. The mountains have a way of looking different on the way out than they did on the way in.
You'll go home with a phone full of photos, a closet full of alpaca wool you didn't plan on buying, and a body that's finally, just barely, adjusted to thin air right as it's time to leave it behind. Eleven days ago this was a pyramid older than the Inca, a market full of fruit nobody could name, salt pans glittering on a mountainside, and a citadel that disappeared from the world for centuries. Now it's a group of women who feel less like travel companions and more like old friends, already half-planning when they'll do something like this again. Peru has a way of doing that to people — and so, somehow, does this trip.
From the coast to the old capital, never far from what matters.
No two nights on this trip look the same. We chose each location deliberately — a neighborhood by the Pacific that puts us steps from ancient ruins and ocean cliffs, a valley town that sits at the geographic heart of everything we've come to see, a cloud-forest base at the foot of Machu Picchu, and a spot right on Cusco's main square to close out the trip. Every stay was chosen for where it puts us, not for how many stars it carries.
We're based in Miraflores, Lima's most walkable and characterful neighborhood, where colonial architecture lines quiet residential streets just blocks from the Pacific cliffs. It's the kind of area where you can wander out the front door and find yourself at a pre-Inca pyramid, a clifftop café, or a market stall within minutes. Lima's best food, its best views, and its most layered history are all right here.
We're based in Urubamba, the town that sits at the center of the Sacred Valley and within easy reach of everything on our itinerary — Chinchero, Maras, Moray, Pisac, and Ollantaytambo are all a short drive in any direction. It's a real Andean town rather than a tourist hub, with a main plaza, a local market, and mountain views that don't quit. This is what the Sacred Valley actually looks and feels like when you're living in it rather than passing through.
Aguas Calientes sits at the bottom of a gorge in the cloud forest, tucked in between the mountains and the river, and it exists for exactly one reason — Machu Picchu. We spend two nights here, giving us an early uncrowded morning at the citadel and a full day to recover afterward without rushing anywhere. It's a small, lively town with hot springs, riverside market stalls, and the particular energy of a place that knows it's sitting at the foot of something extraordinary.
We close the trip in the heart of Cusco's historic center, right on the Plaza de Armas, with the cathedral and the Inca foundations it was built on practically visible from the window. This is the old capital of the Inca Empire, and staying at its center means everything — the cobblestone streets of San Blas, the colonial arcades, the markets, the ruins just outside the city — is walkable from the front door. It's the right place to end a trip like this.
Everything you need to know before you go.
Do I need to worry about altitude sickness?
It's something to take seriously, but this itinerary is built specifically to ease you into it. We spend our first days in Lima at sea level, then descend into the Sacred Valley (lower than Cusco) before ever attempting Machu Picchu or the city itself. Most travelers do just fine with this kind of gradual acclimatization, plenty of water, and coca tea — but talk to your doctor beforehand if you have any concerns, especially if you have a heart or respiratory condition.
How much walking and physical activity is involved?
This trip is active but not extreme. Expect plenty of walking on cobblestones and uneven terrain, some stairs at the ruins, and a few optional climbs (like Sacsayhuamán and Pisac's hilltop terraces) for those who want them. Nothing is mandatory — if a climb isn't for you, there's always a way to enjoy the site at ground level instead.
Will I have to share a room?
Never. Every Unscheduled trip is built around private accommodations — you'll have your own room at every stop, no roommate required.
How many women travel together on this trip?
Groups stay small, six to eight women, so this never feels like a big tour bus experience. It feels like traveling with friends.
What airport should I fly into?
You'll fly into Jorge Chávez International Airport (LIM) in Lima to start the trip, and depart from Alejandro Velasco Astete International Airport (CUZ) in Cusco at the end. International flights aren't included, so book whatever route works best from your home airport.
What should I pack?
Layers are key — Lima's coastal mist, the Sacred Valley's warm days and cool nights, and Cusco's higher elevation all call for different things. Comfortable walking shoes are essential, and a light jacket for early Machu Picchu mornings is worth its weight.
Do I need a visa to enter Peru?
Most travelers from the U.S. and many other countries don't need a visa for short tourist stays, but requirements can change — please confirm your specific entry requirements well before booking your flights.
What if I have dietary restrictions?
Let us know in advance and we'll make sure every included meal works for you — Peru's food scene is flexible enough to accommodate most preferences and restrictions without missing a beat.
What's the cancellation policy?
Deposits are non-refundable once paid, as they go toward securing your spot and locking in rates with our suppliers. We strongly recommend travel insurance to protect the rest of your investment in case plans change.
What happens if the trip doesn't fill?
If we don't reach the minimum number of travelers needed by the booking deadline, we'll let everyone know as early as possible and offer the choice of moving to the next available date or a full refund of any payments made.
Have a question we haven't answered here? Reach out -- we are happy to help.
Eleven days, four cities, one lost city in the clouds, and a group of women who are about to become your favorite travel companions. Spots are limited to keep this small and personal, so if Peru's been calling your name, reach out below and let's get you on the list.