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Published: September 20th 2008
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Peruvian Andes
One of many amazing peaks. We are now world hikers! We left Cusco early on the morning of Sept. 12 and went by bus to the village of Calca where we stopped at a local market. There we bought bread, honey, walking sticks, and yes, coca leaves which were recommended by our guide to prevent and/or alleviate altitude sickness.
Back on the bus after leisurely breakfasting as we sat on the curb, we began our ascent up a winding gravel road. In about an hour our bus driver was casually steering the 32 passenger bus up a narrow, rocky road, crossing streams without bridges in terrain that up until that moment I’d always assumed was suitable only for smaller four wheel drive vehicles.
In less than half an hour we arrived at the starting point for the hike. There were a few buildings there and a short way up the hillside were the baños which were actually flush toilets that sort of functioned and like most public Peruvian toilets, without toilet seats. If there had been any vegetation nearby to provide cover, I would have preferred a toilet al fresco.
It didn’t take long before the pack horses were loaded and set to
go. Steve and I each carried a daypack with rain gear, jackets, personal items and snacks. Thirteen other turistas were on the bus with us and we were divided into two groups. Of the seven in our group we were the only U.S. citizens. There were two other couples, one from Germany, one from Australia and a young single man from Australia as well, all very kind and fun to be with. We were definitely the old folks of the group.
We hiked about 7.5 miles that first day, crossing our first mountain pass of the hike at 13, 780 feet. It was definitely a slow walking meditation. After crossing the pass, we had a wonderful lunch of hot soup, rice and eggs. We rested a bit and I played my flute, but discovered that I was unable to hold out notes as long as I normally can. We descended a considerable distance before camping for the first night in a mountain school yard.
The second day we hiked just under ten miles and crossed two passes. Our guide seemed concerned about us oldies and insisted that we put our day packs on the extra horse. I wasn’t
Over the Top
Here's the group after ascending one of the passes. very willing, but I complied. The first pass was at about the same elevation at the one we crossed the previous day, but the second was over 14, 700 feet. I was amazed at how easily I was able to climb without the added weight of the pack and actually felt like jogging a bit down the second pass. Steve was more content to walk at a slow and steady pace. At one point I commented to one of the young couples about their patience with us. The reply was, “We couldn’t climb any faster anyway at this altitude.”
I couldn’t help but wonder what the Quechua people living in those mountains thought of all the gringos that plod slowly upward, stooped and breathing hard while they sprint nimbly up and down hillsides and over rock outcroppings with ease. It is hard to imagine such a life as they lead, but they seem kind and content with a life of herding and farming hillsides that one wouldn’t imagine would produce the wonderful crops that these people harvest. Almost all of them wear only leather sandals year around in this rugged and often cold climate. Several times I saw women
moving at a good pace along the trail while spinning wool with a drop spindle. As some watch flocks of sheep, alpaca, or llama many of them make small straps and bracelets as they sit on rocky hillsides. Some of the women would stop along our trail to spread out their creations on blankets in hopes the tourists would buy something.
The children have been conditioned by the passing of the tourists to come running in expectation of a sweet treat or small gift. We took much more snack food than we could eat, and I’m glad because by the time we ended the trek it had all been given away to children along the trail. Our guide, who is fluent in Quechua, conversed with the children and told us their names and ages. Many of the adults we came across spoke no Spanish at all. I couldn’t help but question whether or not our presence had a positive or negative impact on the people who have lived in harmony with the harsh environment for thousands of years.
The second night we camped near a deep lake and the fog rolled over us not long after we arrived.
The elevation was much higher than where we camped the first night. When I climbed out of my sleeping bag at about 6 a.m. thick chunks of frost fell from the rain fly as I unzipped it. However, before the lunch stop, I was shedding clothes frequently as the temperature increased quickly as the elevation decreased.
The third night we spent at a hotel in Agua Calientes where the tour description touted the pleasures of a well deserved hot shower. That was not to be when 15 people arrive dirty and tired at 10 p.m. Maybe the first two to hit the showers had hot water, but it was easy to hear through the open transoms the people in nearby rooms complaining of the icy water that gushed from the shower heads in room after room. I made the most of a quick wash and rinse, but couldn’t bring myself to shampoo my dusty tangled hair in the cold water. However, when I arose at 4:15 the next morning to stillness, I reveled in a steaming warm shower and relieved myself of the last of the trekking dirt.
We were on a bus before six a.m. winding our
way up the now lush mountainside to the famous Machu Picchu. It is beyond description and still seems dreamlike to me, even though the place is literally covered with tourists from all over the globe. I tried to imagine it as it once was, a thriving community of workers, politicians, and religious leaders. Then the guide explained to us that this is one of the small sites and that the remains of larger communities have recently been rediscovered nearby. The young folks in the group got in line for their tickets and were soon climbing Waynu Picchu, the rocky point which towers above the ruins. I regretted for a moment not joining them, but later found a quiet trail across the ruins that lead to the top of Machu Picchu and climbed quite a distance up the mountain in near solitude. By about 1:30 in the afternoon we were very warm, tired, and hungry, so we took one of the many buses that chug up and down the mountain back to Agua Calientes where we bit into salad and pizza while the small black flies bit into us. I quickly put on insect repellant, but must have had at least
twenty bites before I covered my arms and hands.
That night we returned late to Cusco and Hostal San Juan de Dios where we stayed for three more nights and spent more time with the children at the hospital. We are now in Arica, Chile at a hostel ran by a wonderful couple. She is native to Chile and he is from New Zealand. At least four continents were represented by the guests at the breakfast table this morning.
We leave for another long bus ride this afternoon to La Serena on the coast north of Santiago. We are certainly grateful for this opportunity to travel and to learn more about this amazing continent and the beautiful and varied creations that God has provided for us to explore.
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Jon Krutz
non-member comment
Cool
Wow. Glad to see you soaking it in, Shannon. Thanks for sharing. Jon