Broken Man in Huaraz

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I arrived in Huaraz at 6.30am. The weather, or should I say the temperature was a chilly 2 degrees outside. From my comfortable semi-cama seat, covered in the blanket I questioned my reasoning for leaving the coast of Huanchaco. Even thought it was overcast, the temperature was warmer than Huanchaco. I couldn’t judge a town solely on its temperature could I? Well, the answer was no on this occasion, I came to Huaraz to do some trekking. It has some of the best treks in the world close by in the mountainous region of the Cordilleras Blanca. There is one trek, Huayhuash (pronounced why-wash), which is supposed to be one of the top three treks in the world. However, this trek lasts for 8 days and 7 nights, and I just didn’t have that length of time without a shower, having to camp and being in the middle of nowhere inside me. From the offset, I knew my limit was around 5 days.

After getting a taxi to my hostel, I checked in, grabbed some of the complimentary breakfast and then it was back into town to explore my new surroundings and look into doing some trekking in the region. There are more agencies in Huaraz offering treks in the region than there is curry houses in Brick Lane, so speaking to someone about a trek that my fit my itiniary and desires wouldn't be too difficult. One trek in particular was recommended to me over and over again, Santa Cruz. I was quoted between $70 -$100 USD for 4 days and 3 nights, which would be inclusive of everything except my national park ticket, which as I was doing 4 days, I had to by a monthly ticket for 65 Nuevo soles. Everything else like food, camping equipment and of course something that no trek could go without, a donkey driver was included. After getting as much information on the Santa Cruz trek as possible, I headed back to my hostel to read up and decide which agency I should place my hard earned US dollars into the hands off. I would find out when I got back to the hostel that they also run a trekking service, which included Santa Cruz for $100 USD, so even though it would have been cheaper to do it with a couple of the agencies in the centre of town, I had more confidence going with the hostel. In preparation for the Santa Cruz, I signed up to also do the Laguna 69 trek, which was only a day long, but would get me used to trekking at altitude and heat. So, the following day, Monday, I had to be ready for a 6am pick up for Laguna 69, then on the Wednesday, again the same thing for Santa Cruz.

There were approximately 20 people from the hostel who signed up for the Laguna 69 trek on Monday. The hostel was arranging transport only to this trek. This meant you explored the area yourself and at your own pace. The route would consist of 16km, which doesn’t sound like much, but when you are starting at altitude of 3,800 metres rising to 4,500 metres above sea level, even short distances seem like marathons. Being the seasoned trekker that I am (NOT!!) I wasn’t sure how my body was going to react to this. I have been in towns and cities in South America and from just walking up a couple of steps felt out of breath due to the altitude. My fitness is ok (which is a statement I expect a lot of comments about from the guys I play football with), but fitness doesn’t play that much of a part when you are trekking at altitude. Everyone’s body handles it differently. The only way to find out how the body is going to feel is by doing it, as a certain Roman Abramovich found out not long ago when he tried to climb K2. My other worry, as petty as it sounds, and again something that will provoke debate was that girls were going to be on this trek also. Now, I wouldn't class myself as sexist, I believe women should have the vote, but equal pay, come on lets drawn the line somewhere. (JOKE). To some this might seem like a sexist comment, but there was no way I wouldn’t complete this trek if girls were doing it. If I didn’t complete the trek and found out that females did then I would have no option but to leave town on the first bus, train or available donkey as soon as possible. Anyway with these reservations, I paired up with a couple of Londoners from my hostel to do the trek, Kelly and Raj.

The first 50 minutes of the trek was simple enough. It was done at a nice, leisurely pace. The terrain was pretty flat so you didn’t feel the altitude as much. I thought to myself, piece of cake. Then it came to the switchbacks and the climbing up the hill. This is where it got difficult. Never before had I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I was breathing heavily through my mouth, as my nostrils were not taking in enough oxygen. It was a weird experience, as every 10 minutes (and less) I would have to stop for 2 minutes for a rest and then continue again. Even a simple task like taking in water was hard. It wasn’t possible to breathe through your mouth, take water in your mouth and then swallow at the same time was walking. Mission Impossible. Between the three of us, we soldiered on to the Laguna, we kept each other going and got to the Laguna in a time of 2 hours 25 minutes. Later we found out that a quick time is 2 hours 15 minute and an average time was 3 hours, so 10 minutes off the pace was good going. After taking some pictures, I found myself a large rock to get 40 of the finest winks on. Trekking certainly took it out of me, especially the heat.

Not wanting to state the blinding obvious, but the walk down was much easier, especially after a little sleep. Whilst I was taking some snaps of the lake I came across an irate bull who at one point threatened to charge me. For what reason I am not sure, but must have been reading my mind, as when I was looking at him I was thinking of all the different cuts of steak he could have been. Heading back to Buenos Aires cannot come soon enough. We got back to the coach just after 3pm. There were 2 coaches for the group, and we couldn’t go until one coach was full. This didn’t happen till 5pm.

Back at the hostel, a hot shower was just what I needed. Having completed the Laguna 69 trek, I still had my reservations about the Santa Cruz trek? Even though I had completed the trek (and only got beaten by one girl, well done Kelly) I wasn’t sure if I could managed 4 days of trekking. However, I had bought my monthly ticket when I got to Laguna 69, so if I wasn’t going to do it then I would have paid 65 soles, when I could have just paid 5 soles for a day pass. I couldn’t be wasting money like that so in effect, I had no choice. I needed to man up, stop acting like a chicken, as chickens, in South America soon get picked off and chucked into a soup.

Raj also signed up to do the Santa Cruz trek, so this helped a little as I would know someone going on the trek. Come Wednesday morning, at 5.50am, we would be en route to Cashapampa to start our 4 days and 3 night trek. Pre-around the world trip, I hadn’t planned on doing much trekking. The only trek I was going to do was Machu Picchu, so I just invested in a pair of all-terrain shoes. After Laguna 69, I soon realised that if I was going to be trekking, then I would need the right attire. A quick visit on Tuesday to the shops and I was fully equipped. Getting the equipment however took a little longer than normal. Coming from England where by if we see shoes in our size than are not in a sale, we would expect a shop to stock the size we require. This is not the case in Huaraz, Peru. Although there are plenty of trekking shops in the town, the shoes that they have come in small men’s (i.e. 7’s or 8’s) or Harry and the Henderson’s size ( 13’s). That coupled with the cost of hiking shoes is enough to put someone off the idea of trekking. I tried a couple pairs of Timberlands ( sorry don’t have your size), some Merrills (again, not my size), and the only other brand they had was Hi-Tec. Now, I remember being at school, growing up in the 1980’s where having a pair of Hi-Tec's meant that you would be a social outcast, maybe even get beaten up in some instances. The Hi-Tec hiking shoes were starting t $140 USD. I would rather walk across a bed of hot coals naked on all fours carrying Beth Ditto on my back than part with a note with Benjamin Franklin and two of Andrew Jackson on the front.
In the end I managed to find some good trekking, non Hi-Tec boots., for about £65.

5.30am, my alarm goes to the dismay of everyone else in the dorm. After a couple of apologies and a quick shower, I grabbed my bag to head down to reception to meet Raj and then head to Cashapampa to start our Cruz trek. The guide for our trek, Abel picked Raj and me up in a taxi and we headed to the offices of the tour company to meet the other people that would be sharing this memorable experience with. In total, there were 8 people doing the trek. Three couples, Raj and myself. Well at least I had Raj to keep me company on those cold lonely nights in the tent.

We arrived in Cashapampa just after 9am. After the donkeys were all strapped up with the items we would need for the next 4 days we were ready to go. The sun was blazing, so the first thing was to make sure that we had enough water for the trek which would be approximately 5 hours. Just before we left I needed to make a visit to the bathroom and it was here that the stark reality of what the next 4 days would entail hit me. At the start of the route at Cashapampa there is a booth were you pay 10 soles to the Park for entrance but no toilet facilities as we would recognise them. There is only a tin shed, which from the outside doesn’t look too bad, but when you open the door reality hits home. There is a hole in the ground and two raised areas where you would stand or squat. I just laughed at this. It was more of a nervous laugh than anything else I think, but this would be the situation for the next four days as grim as it seemed.

10 o’clock arrived and it was time to start the trek. The first day would consist of walking around 11km, from Cashapampa to Llamacorral. We started at altitude of 2900 M.A.S.L and would rise to 3760 M.A.S.L, when we reached Llamacorral. The trek would take approximately 5 hours which included time for stops, lunches and photo opportunities should they present themselves. Within our group we had a guide, Abel, a cook, Umberto and the donkey handler, whose name escapes me at present. It was the job of the cook and donkey handler to ensure camp was takendown when we left in the morning, and was set up when we arrived. They definitely had their work cut out for them. The trek up to Llamacorral past without so much of a hitch. We arrived and the camp, and it was already set up. The tents were assigned and Raj and I headed off to our tent. From the outside it looked like the smallest tent I had ever come across. This had to fit two grown men, and our day sacks in. After setting down the plastic sheets and placing our sleeping bags on top we realised that if we got cold in the night then we wouldn’t have far to cuddle each other. The tent was snug if anything. Once the sleeping bags were down there was no space to swing even the smallest of cats between them. The day spent trekking in the sun meant that a shower was the next thing on the agenda. Now, in this region, showers are a rare. I couldn't see one for miles so it meant that I was to have a ‘shower’ in the river by which we set up camp. Off I trot with my wash bag down to the river bank and attempt to take a wash. I must have been in there about 25 seconds’ tops. The water was colder than cold. I decided at that point that I was going to be taking a Glaswegian shower every day until I got back home (spraying some deodorant on my body, which doesn’t involve cleansing with water). I didn’t have the ability to stand in something so cold to wash. After the shower incident, I was faced with my second obstacle. Toilet facilities. Now within the camp there was a toilet tent, but after coming back from the river still shaking due to the icy cold water Raj advised that the toilet tent had been christened, which instantly put images inside my head that if I couldn’t deal with cold water, that a hole in the ground which wasn’t fresh might be a little too much. Apart from the toilet tent, I had one more option. I had the pick of literally a thousand rocks to hide behind to conduct my business. So thus far, no shower facilities and no proper toilets. These two items were such an important part of western life but yet 3,700 metres above sea level in Llamacorrall on that faithfully Wednesday night I realised that if at any point on my trip I needed to man up, it was now. So, armed with my Aloe Vera, Peruvian version of Andrex I headed for the hills. As we were based in a campsite with other people around this meant this you had to walk for a little while before you managed to find some privacy. All the time that I am walking I am thinking to myself, what if someone sees me, or what if I am there minding my own business and one of these crazy bulls decides to charge. Not to go into too much further detail but the exercise passed without any problems and I managed to even pick a good spot with a nice mountain view After dinner it was summary of what was ahead for tomorrow and then everyone called it a night about 7.30pm. Due to the lack of electricity, there is only so much you can do once it gets dark.

Morning came, and after a night of waking up and realising that you couldn’t slip a sheet of paper between Raj and me, it was good to get out of the tent and stretch. I wasn’t the first one out though. As soon as he woke, Raj shot out of the tent and proceeded to leave last night’s dinner outside the back out the tent. After trying some breakfast he was sick again. Thirty minutes into the trek he realised that there was no way he could continue due to being ill so he headed back to Cashapampa. Now this moment for me was bittersweet as it meant that I could have a tent to myself, but I was now the only singleton in a group full of couples.

The second day consisted of walking 21km, and setting up camp about 3 km away from Punta Union, which is the highest point which we would pass on the following day trek. The altitude there was 4,750 M.A.S.L. 21km in my new trekking shoes meant only one thing. I had more blisters on my feet than I had toes. The last 1km I had to walk in just socks to the camp as it was too painful to wear shoes. The second nights camp was based in an amazing location, just in front of a huge snow-capped mountain, and due to the weather being sunny, I managed to see a couple of avalanches which were good to watch from a distance. After 21km of trekking the group were starving, however the evening meal was a disaster waiting to happen. The meal of chicken rice and corn was small to start with. When you cut into the chicken it was clear that it wasn’t cooked properly. A couple of the guys sent there chicken back to get it cooked, but I left it and made do with the rice and corn. Lucky for me, I brought some Oreos with me, so my evening meal when I got back to the tent would consist of them. One of the guys who sent his chicken back woke the camp at 3am when he was heard bringing up last night’s ‘meal’ up behind his tent. All I could think of was that I hope I am not like that in the next hour, and luckily I wasn’t.

The same view wasn’t as amazing 12 hours later at 5am. The weather was significantly different. The mountain was not visible due to the fog which had covered the whole camp. That coupled with the rain which was coming down meant that when we climbed to the 4,750 metre mark we would have our work cut out.

After breakfast it was another early start in order to get to Punta Union. As we started it was just raining slightly. By the time we worked our way up to Punta Union, the weather has gone from bad to snow. As we were working our way to Punta Union, the downpour started getting heavier. It was difficult for me with two legs to get up and down the pass, but the donkeys and horses that were carrying the camping equipment etc really struggled. The pass itself was slippy, rocks were everywhere and one wrong slip meant I would be thanking my lucky my stars if I just broke every bone in my body and survived. The route certain was dangerous in these wather conditions. After the pass we continue down for about an hour, hour and a half, but the donkeys and horses had yet to pass us. We were only two hours away from the camp, which if they hadn’t past us meant there would be no tents set up to take shelter. It was still raining heavily so we found some shelter and waited for the donkeys etc to pass. The wait seemed like ages. Cold started to set in and we tried to make a fire to stay warm but every piece of wood around was drenched. Just as we started to get the fire going it would fizzle out. After about an hour of waiting they arrived and flew past us. At this point I was so cold, the only way to warm up was to get moving at a quick pace, so I left the group and marched on solo to try and get warm. Armed with collection of Michael Jackson on the IPOD I could feel myself getting warm again after being cold for the last hour. I managed to get to camp about ten minutes after the equipment/donkeys arrived. Standing around was just getting me cold again, so I helped set up a couple of tents (which didn’t fall down during the night either) and sorted my tent out whilst the rest of the group arrived. With only one day to go before I could get back to a warm bed and hot shower, which I desperately needed, I unpacked my stuff and found out that part of my sleeping bag had got wet when it had been on the back of the donkeys. A couple of the guys sleeping bags were soaked so I was thankful that only part of mine was wet. The last night’s meal consisted of spaghetti Bolognese and even a glass, well a cup of vino tinto (red wine) which I have never been so glad to drink wine out of a carton before. It was then off to my solo tent with damp sleeping bag for my last night of camping.

The start time in the morning was a little later than normal, but after a breakfast of pancakes we were ready for the off. Only 8km more to do before we would be in Valqueria and on that coach back to Huaraz. I shot off again. With only 8km to do in a couple of hours I wasn’t going to be hanging about. This was good until I took a wrong turning. It wasn’t too bad as I had only wandered about 200 metres before I decided to wait for the rest of the group to catch up. After 20 minutes or so when no-one had past me I started to get a bad feeling, so I started to walk back to see the guide jogging towards me. Lucky I had stopped otherwise I could still have been walking. The guide told me he knew a short-cut to Valqueria, which did get me up to speed with the rest of the other group but involved walking up two of the worse hills I have ever seen. They were vertical I swear it. The first one wasn’t too bad but the second one seemed to go on forever. I reached Valqueria about two minutes after the rest of the group and was greeted with jeers of ‘here is the fastest man in the world’, so the jokes were being cracked. The road down the mountain was going to take us three hours, just to get back to the main road, and then from the main road it was two hours back to Huaraz.

The sights of the Cordilleras Blanca are some of the best mountain views in the world. I wished that as well as Santa Cruz I had the ability to do Huayhuash, which is supposed to be a once in a lifetime trek, but as mentioned earlier, I just didn’t have eight days and seven nights camping in cold conditions, no showers and no toilet facilities in me. Four days was my limit and then I wanted to get back to civilisation and enjoy those little home comforts that we take for granted. From Huaraz I am going to take a night bus to the capital, Lima, spend a couple of day in the capital before heading further south to Ica.

Adios...

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