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A big, gaping crack
First sight of Colca Canyon While Arequipa had come highly recommended to me, I hadn't done my homework before I got there and didn't really know what I was in for. Fortunately I met Sam and Dan, two lads from the UK, on the day I arrived and was promptly talked into doing a 2 day/3 night trek in the Colca Canyon, which was about 5 hours away. We had to get up at 4AM the next day to catch the bus to Cabanaconde where the trek was to begin, but I had no issue with this as I've had no trouble at all sleeping on the bus throughout my travels. This bus trip was a little different however.
As I took my seat and by chin rubbed against the top of my knees, I realised immediately that this bus was not up to the same standard of the others I had been on during my travels. With around 3 hours to the bus's first stop, the town of Chivay, I couldn't believe it when people kept piling on long after the last seat was taken. I was further impressed by the hardiness of my fellow travellers when we arrived in Cabanaconde and I saw
Location, location, location
Two villages halfway up the canyon people climbing off the roof, and rising from mattresses they were lying on in the luggage hold under the bus.
Though I'd heard many stories of the Inca Trail, but hadn't heard anything about the Colca Canyon trek so didn't really know what to expect. As it turned out, there were few surprises in store. We hiked to the bottom of the canyon on the first day, further along it to a different spot on the second, and then up and out of the Canyon on the third.
To simply offer the description above would be almost negligently glib however, as the trek was one of the best things I have done in over 3 months in South America. Though somewhat deceitfully marketed as 'the deepest canyon in the world', at 3,269m deep (at the deepest point) Colca is in fact the second deepest. It gives away 232m to nearby Cotahusi Canyon, but apparently this is less picturesque and less accessible.
The mind-boggling geographical statistics of the place were most certainly matched by the scenery. Most interesting (and frankly amazing) of all were some of the villages we passed through during the trek. They were situated three
Down in the deep
Our accommodation for the first night quarters of the way down the canyon with no access to the outside world other than along the steep paths of loose gravel that we were hiking along. No semis or box vans here - the logistical prime movers in these parts were mules and donkeys.
Western developments of hundreds of years ago such as the division of labour and the industrial revolution seemed to have slipped by the canyon villagers almost entirely. Though anyone who knows me at all realises that I'm not the new-age, back-to-the-land type, it was interesting to reflect on what such developments have contributed to the human spirit in our own societies. Despite the language barrier, these people came across as some of the warmest, friendliest and seemingly most happy I've ever met. It seemed as though they were without a care in the world and that concepts like stress and depression were completely foreign to them. Sure, I'm not about to give up TV, my car, iPod etc and live in some Unabomber style shack in the middle of nowhere, but it was interesting nonetheless.
Reaching the bottom of the canyon and looking up at the gigantic face we would have to
Around the dinner table
Sam, Loretta, Ingrid, Joern, Andrew and Dan scale before the trek was over was daunting to say the least. Thankfully there was some great company to take my mind off it. Sam, Dan and I were joined by two couples: Andrew and Loretta from Sydney; and Joern (from Germany) and Ingrid (from Switzerland). Joern and Ingrid made me laugh, as while Ingrid was pretty much a straight-down-the-line type, Joern was thoroughly eccentric. I lost count of the number of times she rolled her eyes at him throughout the trek.
On the second day we arrived at the night's campsite before lunchtime. This was a most welcome development as it was situated in the middle of an oasis complete with a pool. No chlorine here - it was filled by an irrigation channel that ran down the side of the canyon, with the overflow running back out to the river below. It was a great place to relax before a spot of alpaca baiting later in the afternoon (we almost got spat in the face a number of times). An early night was required that night as we had to get up at 3AM the following morning to scale the canyon (about 1,100 vertical metres at this
Not in the pots just yet
Guinea pigs are a delicacy in these parts point) all in the one hit.
I can't describe how much difficulty I had in climbing up a horrendously steep, loose gravel path (less than a metre wide in some parts) with almost sheer drops on one side in pitch black. Wearing worn sneakers and only having the light of a single AAA battery torch didn't help at all. I was pretty exhausted only a quarter of the way up but had no choice but to press on. I had a brief relapse of 'Opposites Attract' at one point (see entry for Pucon) but managed to squeeze it out of my head before the rot set in. It would seem that an extra couple of months on the road has improved my mental strength.
Despite the cold, by the time we were two thirds into the climb I was sweating profusely. Though initially I had been carefully avoiding the mule and donkey terds that covered the track in parts, I started to deliberately step in them, as they provided an improvement on the rancid stench I was emitting by that stage.
Arriving at the top a tick under 3 hours after we began the climb, I experienced
Don't get stung
A villager showing us his hives one of the most genuine feelings of relief of my life. I also enjoyed the feeling of achievement, as there were stages when I was cursing myself for not having taken the option of paying for a mule to carry me up and out of the canyon. Still thoroughly exhausted when we set off for the short walk back to Cabanaconde, I took one more look into the canyon, spat into it, flipped it the bird, and then started walking.
On the way back to Arequipa we made two stops. One was at a viewing point where Andean Condors soared overhead, and the other was at hot springs in Chivay. The Condors were huge and majestic, but they did nothing to ease my aching muscles and ailing joints. It was the hot springs that really hit the spot at that stage. Upon arrival back at the hostel in Arequipa, I had to deal with the clothing that I had sweated in over the previous three days. I was forced to handle my t-shirt with gloves, and my pants with tongs. I had no option but to incinerate my socks and underwear.
The next day back in Arequipa was
a most productive one for me. Joern and I went go-karting, and I beat him in every race other than the one where he resorted to despicable, unsportsmanlike tactics and slammed me into a tire wall as we hit top speed down the straight.
That night at the hostel there was a Texas Hold-em tournament, in which I scored my maiden victory after reeling in a massive chip lead once it was down to heads up. The buy-in may have only been 10 Soles (4 Aussie dollars) and I may have only pocketed 80 Soles (32 Aussie dollars) following 5 hours of tension and intrigue, but it was a victory to savour all the same.
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Tot: 0.055s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 8; qc: 24; dbt: 0.0333s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
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