Highstakes for an Inca refuge: for centuries off the beaten track, the pre-Columbian site of Choquequirao now stands front and center as the tourist's alternative to Machu Picchu.

Spectacularly sited in the Peruvian Andes is an ancient city of the Incas, long shrouded in mystery. If this much of the story sounds familiar, the name of the city, likely does not. But if Peruvian tourism officials have their way, soon Choquequirao will be as familiar to you as the venerable Machu Picchu, its "sister city" and imperiled landmark. Meaning "cradle of gold" in Quechua, Choquequirao is the focus of archaeological excavation and tourism initiatives which, officials hope, will establish the site's own landmark credentials, as well as ease the infrastructure burden on heavily visited Machu Picchu.

The gateway to Choquequirao is the village of Cachora--a four-hour drive southwest of Cuzco, the magnificent capital of the Incas and the hub of Peru's tourist industry. At just under ten thousand feet, Cachora sits on the southern lip of the Apurimac Canyon. Below the valley plunges into an invisible abyss, carved out over millennia by the Apurimac River--just miles away laterally, but over six thousand feet beneath. On the northern side tower the snow-capped peaks of the Salkantay massif--the heart of the Andes central cordillera.

The ruins of Ghoquequirao are perched on the other side of time canyon, at about the same elevation as Cachora. The trek there from the village, with supplies carried by mule and horses provided for steep ascents, is a four day round trip, with one night spent at, the rains.

The trail begins as a gentle descent into the valley towards the canyon through fields lined with eucalyptus trees and scattered with wild gerbil nests. As the fields become scrub, the Apurimac River reveals itself for the first time, a fragile streak of silver nearly a mile below. Its pale color--the result of its flow crashing against mighty boulders--is the only indication of line river's power.

Born and the peaks of the western Andes, the Apurimac River is the true source of the Amazon. Its name means the Great Speaker or Speaker of the Gods in Quechua. Apu can mean both god and mountain--inseparable concepts to the Incas, who worshiped their surroundings. Rivers were regarded as the mountains' messengers. According to Inca legend, the great conqueror Pachacutec consulted the Apurimac before crossing to defeat the Chanca tribe, powerful neighbors from across the canyon. Victory would prove the catalyst for the creation of an empire.

As the descent steepens, my calves tighten and the path begins to hairpin back on itself, winding down the parched southern slopes of the canyon through burned unfarmed grassland. A searing sun and a harsh wind add to the grueling descent. The withered terrain is in stark contrast to the canyon's lush northern slopes, watered by the glacial peaks of Salkantay, a few hundred feet away as the condor flies.

By dusk we reach the river, a raging torrent despite this being the end of the Andean dry season, when the Apurimac is at its lowest. Across a swaying suspension bridge, the northern bank offers a place to rest, but not for long. Ferocious sand flies--called pumahuacachi--infest the riverbanks sheltered by the canyon. Their name translates as makes the puma-cry, and the strongest insect repellent does little to discourage them. The setting sun provides respite to saddle up and begin a moonlit ascent. At the end of a twenty-three-hundred-foot climb, our host at the Santa Rosa farm offers us a warm welcome and the chance to pitch our tents above his farmhouse on one of the few tracts of flat land around.

The dawn chorus is a raucous affair. A large flock of parrots has spent the night roosting in the tree above the farm and is squawking hysterically at the first signs of daylight. They are waiting for the sun to soar up and over the canyon, warming their wings enough for them to fly off. One of the horses has a weeping wound on its neck, the victim of a blood-sucking bat. It spent the night tethered and could do nothing to shake off the unwelcome parasite.

Our farmer host is a squat, middle aged man whose weathered hands and face suggest a hard life spent working the land. His family has been farming the northern slopes of time canyon for the past 130 years, growing sugar, onions, beans, tomatoes, avocados, limes, bananas, and a hard corn that serves as chicken feed. They have three horses and two mules, which they use to carry their produce to Cachora's weekly market to sell or exchange for coffee, oil, or rice. But the farmer is worried.

In its efforts to promote Choquequirao as a tourist destination, the Peruvian government wants to make the northern slopes of the canyon a protected zone, like the area surrounding the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. Further plantations would be banned and horses would be forbidden from grazing, At best, the farmer's way of life could be severely restricted. At worst, he and his family could be forced off the land.

From the farm, the path continues its relentless ascent, but the lush vegetation means it is less exposed than the previous day's dusty track, clearly visible on the other side of the canyon. There is plenty of opportunity to stop and allow the horses to drink from the abundance of icy streams and waterfalls that cascade from the frozen peaks above. Nevertheless, it is a punishing climb to a small homestead called Marampata, and our first glimpse of Choquequirao. The ruins seem tantalizingly close, perched on a spur of the mountain just several hundred feet away. Yet it will take another two hours to reach them on foot.

The undulating path from Marampata to Choquequirao is too narrow to traverse safely on horseback. A muddy track barely six feet wide, it clings to the canyon walls then yields to a breathtaking plunge down sheer cliffs covered in gravity-defying horizontal jungle. A family of weasels scurries down the precipice, using branches and vines to break their fall. At an altitude of nearly ten thousand feet, the dense tropical flora and humidity persist. Hot air from the canyon converges on the bitter chill of the mountains to create Choquequirao's unique microclimate. The campsite nestles just below the ruins, alongside a row of prefabricated huts that house a group of archaeologists and excavators.

The first excavated site is a flat-stoned terrace. At nearly two thousand feet in length, it is one of the longest built by the Incas. Beyond, the main plaza balances pre-cariously on a mountain spur. Wispy clouds sweep across the ruins front every direction, some tumbling from the summits of Salkantay, others rising from the gorge. In seconds, the crystal-clear panoramic view of the terraces and the canyon below becomes pea soup as clouds converge to shroud the site. Choquequirao juts out from the mountain face far enough to lay bare the entire cordillera. A winding procession of snow-capped peaks and rolling valleys fade into the horizon. And below, the mighty Apurimac--static, silent, and almost invisible, but for the glinting reflection of the setting sun.

Beneath the plaza, scattered laborers chip away at the mountainside, unearthing more ruins. Although excavation work began on Choquequirao in 1993, only 30 percent of the site has been uncovered--the rest still belongs to the overgrown spur. Plastic bags containing broken Inca pottery rest against the walls of the buildings around the plaza. One of Choquequirao's resident architects is Eulogio Pumayale. He hasn't seen any tourists for three days and is happy to explain that at least one archaeologist and one architect maintain a permanent presence at the ruins. They direct a team of twenty laborers, employed by Peru's National Institute of Culture, to excavate and reconstruct the site.

Like Machu Picchu, nobody can be sure of Choquequirao's original purpose. There is no mention of either site in conquistador chronicles. It is thought that the Inca's had abandoned Machu Picchu before the arrival of the Spanish, while Choquequirao may have been one of the last refuges of a rebel Inca republic that held out for seventy years after the fall of Cuzco. Both sites were abandoned and forgotten without Spanish knowledge of their existence.

According to Pumayale, the latest, theories suggest that Choquequirao was originally a control post of great strategic importance to the Incas. "It was at the very edge of their territory--a bridgehead for expansion and the creation of empire," he explains. The site was built by the conquering Pachacutec to monitor the flow of goods and people entering and leaving the Inca heartland. With its commanding views and arduous terrain, it would have been difficult to pass nearby without being spotted.

The excavated buildings around the main plaza are crude in comparison with the majestic ruins of Cuzco and its environs. Few if any civilizations have rivaled the Incas' skill as masons. They were able to carve and polish stone with a precision that made mortar redundant. Interlocking stones fit seamlessly together to make walls capable of withstanding the same earthquakes that brought Spanish structures crashing down. Despite the passing of half a millennium, it is clear that Choquequirao was not built to those high standards. Its buildings were made of fieldstone set in clay, and many still have the original cylindrical wooden couplings wedged into their corners to prevent walls from separating during seismic activity.

Pumayale and his colleagues think that the site could have been built by prisoners of war, soldiers from the defeated Chanca tribe working under the instruction of Inca architects. Cuzco's elaborate stonework was created during the two hundred years prior to Pachacutec's victory, an event that heralded a new chapter in pre-Columbian history. Within fifty years, and without knowledge of the wheel, the Incas transformed themselves from an obscure tribe residing in the valleys around Cuzco, to rulers of an empire that stretched from Colombia in the north to Chile in the south. Choquequirao may have been the first major structure to be built during this age of rapid expansion. Time was of the essence, and there was no place for artistry.

The spectacular views from Choquequirao's main plaza are not just ethereal. To the Incas the landscape was divine. In spite of the aesthetic inferiority of the ruins themselves, their location alone justifies the Peruvian government's efforts to make them a viable tourist alternative to Machu Picchu. But at what cost? Environmentalists eager to maintain the site's unspoiled vistas have attacked plans for a cable car linking the ruins to Qiunala, a small village with road access, across the canyon from Choquequirao. They are also fearful of the effects that a proposed heliport would have on the local ecology.

But the need for high-profile alternatives to Machu Picchu has been evident for some time, and last December media reports stated that UNESCO was threatening to place Machu Picchu on its list of World Heritage endangered sites unless the number of visitors was reduced.

Ron van Oers is chief of the Latin American Unit of UNESCO's World Heritage Committee. He explains his office's process to ensure preservation of its designated landmarks: "The WHC doesn't sit in an ivory tower giving advice on World Heritage sites. We work on a principle of cooperation, and there is all ongoing dialogue between UNESCO and those responsible for Machu Picchu." The WHC has asked the Peruvian government for a report outlining how many tourists they believe should be able to visit the ruins--taking into account WHC concerns over the upkeep of the site and the local environmental.

Their primary worry is what van Oers describes us "the real possibility of serious natural disaster." In 2001, Japanese geologists warned that the earth supporting the ruins was shifting. Another concern is the local town of Aguas Calientes--a ramshackle mish-mash of hostels and restaurants below Machu Picchu. The town sprung up to eater to tourists and van Oers laments the "wild growth and insufficient town planning" that has seen its population spiral out of control.

Machu Picchu's status will be considered in June, at the next meeting of the World Heritage Committee. Van Oers does not rule out placing Machu Picchu on the list of endangered sites, although he points out that this could only be done with the agreement of the Peruvian authorities. "Such a move should not be seen as a punishment. It would be like raising a red flag--the mobilization of world forces to improve the situation. Peru would receive both financial as well as technical support."

Steps have already been taken to reduce the number of people walking the legendary Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. Until recently, the trail, a four-day hike, was straining under the daily weight of up to fifteen hundred trekkers during the most popular months for tourists. This is four times the monthly number that currently visits Choquequirao. Camping and toilet facilities are limited, so rules were introduced whereby, officials calculate how many tours can enter the trail per hour. There are now no more than eight hundred tourists a day allowed for the length of the Inca Trail.

Choquequirao could face similar problems. At present there are no toilet or camping facilities for the length of the trek to the ruins. The steep inclines and the thick vegetation on the northern slopes of the canyon mean that there are few good locations to pitch a tent. Although strategic facilities are planned, the number of trekkers would have to be severely restricted so as not to deface the canyon side with campsites and toilets.

Last October, President Alejandro Toledo announced a $5.7 million endowment from the French government to help improve Choquequirao's tourist infrastructure. The payment was made at the behest of Jacques Chirac, who has long been fascinated by Eugene de Sartiges, the nineteenth century French explorer who was the first foreigner to visit the ruins. Over a hundred years passed before the American Hiram Bingham rediscovered the site on his way to finding Machu Picchu. A trickle of adventurers and archaeologists have followed in his footsteps, but during the next few years Choquequirao could receive more visitors than it has since the Incas abandoned it almost five hundred years ago.

Photographs by Alejandro Balaguer

Toby Fenton is a freelance journalist and publisher. Based in London, he has spent much of the last decade both working and traveling in Latin America.