That trip taught me many things. You climb, you descend, you take photos. It’s as if you’ve stepped into a National Geographic documentary. But of course, that’s just the first day. Then things change.
What the Incas taught me about keeping costs in cheque at a large company.
Or how climbing to over 4,000 meters gave me a very clear perspective on costs. A long time ago, I hiked the Inca Trail. It was four days of walking along an ancient route, between mountains and clouds, until I reached Machu Picchu through the Sun Gate.
It was an incredible journey, but also a real slog. You can do the short or long version; either way, you spend three nights sleeping in tents. But you climb to a very high altitude. When you arrive in Cusco, they advise you to drink a certain type of tea or chew some leaves to prevent altitude sickness. And since I always do what I’m told wherever I go, I drank it. A friend of mine decided not to.
It’s one thing to imagine it from those idyllic photos of ruins shrouded in mist, and quite another to experience it firsthand: sleeping in a tent, walking for hours, carrying all your gear, and, above all, breathing at over 4,000 metres above sea level.
And one of the things I remember is this: you don’t have to carry everything with you to go far. In fact, if you carry too much, you’ll get bogged down.
Today I’ll tell you why and how this lesson applies to your company’s costs.
Day 1:
Enthusiasm Weighs Less Than Your Backpack
When you start the Inca Trail, everything seems wonderful; you’re well-rested, your backpack is packed with the essentials (and a few “just in case” items), and you feel like you can handle anything.
The scenery leaves you speechless: archaeological ruins everywhere, the high jungle, the rivers. It’s very hard to put into words if you haven’t seen it—it’s something you have to experience.
The name gives you an idea: it’s a point that sits at 4,215 meters. And that’s where you realise just how heavy your backpack is—not just physically, but mentally as well. Every step becomes a challenge. You’re running out of breath and strength. You start to refine your choices and ask yourself: Do I need this? Can I live without that?
And you also look around you. And you realise something: You didn’t need as many things as you thought. What made it possible for me to get there was: travelling light. Taking my energy seriously. Listening to my body. The friend who didn’t have tea got terrible altitude sickness, and we all had to carry her.
Day 2:
The mountain puts you in your place
On the second day, you reach Abra Warmiwañusca, also known as the Pass of the Dead Woman, the highest point of the famous Inca Trail hike to Machu Picchu.
And what you’re carrying—that windbreaker “just in case it rains,” that book you wanted to read at camp, that second toiletry bag with things “just in case I need them”—starts to take its toll.
I couldn’t handle my rucksack, so I gave it to a local woman who made a living doing this; she climbed up with my rucksack and three others at the same speed a rabbit runs through the woods.
And then you learn to look at everything you’re carrying with fresh eyes.
Day 3: You learn to focus on what matters most
At this point, it’s clear to you: what matters is what you leave behind, not what you carry.
At those who carry the load with you, those who go more slowly, those who can barely carry their own weight, those who help without being asked.
You realise that moving forward is a matter of balance, not competition. It has a lot to do with the pace and the group you’re climbing with.
And, above all, with focus.
Day 4:
Reaching Machu Picchu with Less
When you arrive at Intipunku, the Gate of the Sun, something tightens inside you. The sight fills you with an indescribable emotion: you’ve done it, you’ve made it! You see Machu Picchu before it opens, at sunrise.
And trusting the route. And then, after so many miles, I understood that what truly makes sense on a journey like this is to choose judiciously in order to be efficient. Just as I couldn’t manage the rucksack, sometimes costs unduly burden our company.
We have cost lines we haven’t reviewed in years, or legacy systems, or agreements that no longer make sense. We pay for structures that don’t serve the real purpose. And we also struggle to see what’s invisible:
Equipment wear and tear.
The energy wasted on repetitive tasks. Processes that could be simpler.
1. Acclimatise Before You Climb
Before making important decisions, take the time to fully understand the context.
2. Cheque your backpack
Take stock of everything you’re carrying. What still makes sense? What do you never use? What weighs too much for the value it provides?
3. Travel with less, but better
Optimising almost never means cutting back, but rather moving forward wisely with just enough.
Have you ever taken a trip that taught you something you use in your work today?
Thanks for reading. That’s all for today. I hope these ideas are helpful to you.
Have a great day
What I learned from the Qhapaq Ñan, the Inca Trail that took me to Machu Picchu
That network of trails connecting the entire Inca Empire was not a luxury—it was a necessity.
A structure designed to operate with precisely the necessary resources and to transport people, food, messages, and pack llamas as efficiently as possible.
And when one studies the history a bit more, one observes that the key to its operation was this: optimising effort without losing sight of the purpose.
And what does this have to do with costs?
Significantly more than it appears.
Because sometimes within companies we do precisely the opposite of what I learned on the mountain: we carry too much or we do not prepare ourselves, such as when one disregards local advice to avoid altitude sickness.
Suppliers who are no longer aligned.Three Lessons from the Inca Trail You Can Apply to Your Business
Here’s what this story teaches you about the steps to start optimising costs:
Just like on the Inca Trail, where you need a few days to acclimatise to the altitude and take certain precautions, you also need to prepare before making changes to your costs.
And “just enough” isn’t the bare minimum, but rather what’s necessary to reach your destination safely. And if you can’t make it on your own, lean on someone who knows the terrain, just as I did with the woman who carried my backpack up to Paso de la Mujer Muerta.
Sometimes you need a bird’s-eye view of your own path
I can’t walk the Inca Trail for you.
But if you need to look at your expenses from a different perspective, sometimes you need someone who’s already been there.
Someone who understands that efficiency isn’t about cutting corners, but about knowing where you’re going and what you need to bring with you. Just reach out to me
