Northern Delights

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My first two stops in Peru couldn´t have been more different. After a very bizarre border crossing (the two border posts are a few miles apart, with an entire town in between) and a relatively painless bus journey I arrived in Mancora – a very gringo beach town.
I can´t pretend that Mancora is a place with character, or even an impressive beach – but it was sunny. After a 3 weeks in the mountains and the rest of my trip looking to be spent at altitude (followed by my impending return to England in the midst of winter) this was going to be my one and only chance to top up the tan and enjoy the sun.

I busied myself over the next few days wandering down to the beach, drinking fresh coconut water and occasionally – when I was really pushing it – enjoying a plodge in the sea. The hostel was impressive and a dorm room for 6 quid a night bought you access to a lovely pool (complete with swim-up bar).

I then headed further down the coast to a quiet fishing village called Huanchaco. Although still with plenty surfboard wielding gringos this place felt a little more like how ´Peru´ should feel. The beach was lined with narrow fishing boats, hand- made from reed. Watching the skill of the fishing men negotiate the waves in these tiny unstable rafts made me appreciate the seafood even more.
After a few days doing little at all , my body was in for a serious shock when I arrived in Huaraz – a city settled at over 3000m altitude. Coming from sea-level meant everything was difficult on my first day – I was out of breath just washing my hair. I decided it was sensible just to spend a couple of days doing mainly nothing (I´m getting good at this), whilst my body got used to being so oxygen-deprived. Then, thinking about my impending Inca Trail I planned two even higher altitude hikes one day after another.

The first was to Lake Churup – although the weather didn´t allow for the best views – it was still magnificanet and the closer we got to the lake the more patches of snow-topped mountains we could see. Just as we arrived at the hardest bit of the trek – a scramble/climb, where a metal rope is cemented in the rock to help – a National Park official stopped to take our details, warning us that the day before two people hadn´t returned to Huaraz and were reported missing (although don´t worry we found out later they got completely lost and turned up at some random village looking hungry and disheveled but in good health). Luckily, no such dramas in our group, as we scaled the rocks like true professionals (apart from the time I slipped, panicked and screamed –in a slightly over-dramatic manor).

The following day was a hike to Lage 69 (no giggles please). This was a longer trek, but feeling more used to the altitude I felt strong reaching the summit. For my effort I was rewarded with views of thick wide cloud (although I could just about see some glimmer of blue, or was I imagine it?). Luckily, I was in need of a rest so I perched on a rock and munched through my snacks waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. The clouds eventually cleared and the turquoise blue of the lake and brilliant white of the snowy mountains shone through (with just enough time to take some snaps, before the rain set in).
After the 3 hour ride back to Huaraz my legs were seizing up and I appeared to have developed a gammy knee from my two days trekking. Suddenly I panicked, next week I’ll be doing 4 days of trekking – covering longer distance and carrying more things. What have I let myself in for?

Mishaps: Not so much a mishap, but a sign of my terrible temperament (which I calling a mishap of birth). Why, o why, do people not appreciate elbow etiquette on buses? The night bus to Huaraz was the straw that broke the camels back with my growing irritation at this. As the man who sat next to me immediately placed half of his arm (not even just his elbow) on MY side (clearly marked by the arm rest) I decided enough was enough. The next 8 hours were a battle as I pushed his arm back to his side with my elbow every time it crept over. He certainly wasn´t one for picking up the not to subtle signals (or perhaps he thought he deserved the extra room). However when he relaxed and finally fell asleep he almost snored the entire bus awake. Deciding I didn´t win the battle over the elbows to listen to that, I kindly awoke him to tell him in my best Spanish (Usted esta roncar!). My next blog will be titled ´how to make friends in Latin America´.

Size Zero: FINALLY I have found delicious South American dish that isn´t fried. Ceviche – basically fresh fish or seafood marinated in lime and chili (the acid gently cooks the fish). Refreshing, healthy, cheap and set to be the next big dish to hit the UL (you heard it here first, or like me, in the Guardian). Perfect.

Men: A policeman licked my face. This is not exactly the Latin romance I planned. In fact, I am still recovering from the trauma.

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