Las Salineras

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Today we hiked through the Salineras, or the salt mines of Mara. The mines were other worldly. They seemed to grow out of the mountains, like a multi-colored rectangular honey comb. We had summited a small mountain looking for them before they appeared before our feet. When we looked down, 1,500 salt pans met our gaze.

Las Salineras produces the majority of the salt consumed in the Cusco region. Still, they seemed to blend in with nature so well, we had almost missed it. How could something so productive and industrial be so beautiful and worthy of tourism? The salt extraction from the mountain seemed not only effortless, but naturally beautiful as well. The rock walls connecting the pans were indistinct from the mountain itself. The only sign of input energy was a stream that seemed to irrigate the clay salt pits.

Though I'm not positive, I don't think the Inca built Las Salineras. If they didn't, their ancestors have inherited tremendous ability. If they did, we still have a lot to learn from such ancient civilizations. Like the canteras that I'd passed on my way to Inti Punku, las Salineras seemed to work within the parameters of sustainable extraction. I use the example the canteras, because the Inca made a quarry of already fallen rocks. The only material they used to build the fortress and surrounding architecture of Ollanta was from the scree of an ancient rock slide. They did not chisel or blast away at the mountain. They only took what they had been given, and look at all they made!

After passing through las Salineras, we had a cold beer and a sandwhich at a restaurant in some tourist settlement. The menu was filled with western food, dishes that clearly weren't their strong suit. Why would any tourist travel to another country to eat food that's better prepared at home?

After lunch, we decided to leave the clump of tourist shacks and make the trek to the town of Mara. Our path stretched out before us as far as the eye could see, spliting the brilliant green pasture in two. Around us, we could only see the peaks of mountains. I felt as if we were floating amongst the clouds. In the distance, beyond the green mountains that surrounded us, lay a rocky giant, capped by a melting glacier. We forgot about walking. Our legs just carried us onward. The size of the mountains and the vast meadow warped our sense of space and time. This was not the first time I felt this way in Peru. When we took a collectivo back to Ollanta, I felt as if I had dreamed the day away. Maybe I had.

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