Peru - Huaraz

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Hiking in this mountainous region was fantastic - exhausting but deeply satisfying. However, Huaraz gave me mixed feelings. This town, arguably the trekkers’ capital in Peru, located in the proximity of perhaps two dozen 6,000 m peaks (including Huascaran the Peruvian highest mountain and Alpamayo, supposedly voted for as the most beautiful mountain in the world) seemed in a disrepair. The major plaza and many streets in the center were under construction, many restaurants marked in my guide were no longer there, and Edward’s Inn, a highly recommended hotel, was totally empty when I got there. However, its citizens were nice enough and once we got used to the mess in the streets we were able to enjoy what the city had to offer - access to premier mountain equipment, mountain guides, agencies, and some of the finest Andean food. Even our hotel turned to be a good deal even though there were hardly any other tourists to meet or a pool table like in some other hostels we stayed in. Edward, the hotel’s owner, was quite a character. While obviously past his prime years when he was THE guide here in Huaraz (perhaps 10 years ago or more), he still had the fervor in his eyes when he talked about the mountains and treks we could take. Come here if you want some independent advice. It was for free and plentiful.

While out of the center, it was obvious that many people here hardly ever saw foreigners. We got many comments from the drunks and the ladies, including hola gringos, hello Mr., hola bombonito, and I love you my friend. The city was definitely touristy but on the outskirts one could feel that this was very much a town on its own, dependent on but not bending to the tourism. My one advice about the city - while you can certainly do all your trek shopping in the main market (the cheapest way), if watching chickens hung by their throat and pig heads and skinned guinea pigs covered in flies makes you sick, you might want to check out the modern supermarkets and liquor stores on the main street, just east of the main plaza. Nick and I did not discover those until end of the trip.

We did not waste much time. After stocking on food and gathering information we left for the mountains. Seeking a more authentic experience (and trying to save some plata), we chose to travel to the mountains via public transport and while there without a guide and donkeys. Edward recommended that I buy two seats on the bus. The van and the seats were tiny! It was a good sign when we were greeted by a chauffeur that was obviously quite proud to take on two gringos. Unfortunately, it was very shortly quite obvious that the bus would be completely full and so negotiating for two seats would have been futile. After an hour that felt like forever sitting on a child-size seat, we arrived to Caraz, a small mountainous town, and after stocking on more mandarins (those were exceptionally good here and costing just 50c per kilo!) at the local market, we took another colectivo to our final destination, Cashapampa. On the trail we later regretted we had not bought more of these goodies. They are exceptionally good here, almost addictive. Try them if you come to Peru! It is amazing how much the quality of fruit varies by region. Without doubt the best fruit I tried was in Chile, especially those mangoes bought fresh at the market in Santiago. The worst in Bolivia, with oranges almost universally with seeds (reminded me of old days when the only oranges we could get in the communist Czechoslovakia were from Cuba and only during Christmas time when it was the harvest in Cuba - oranges tasting and smelling exactly the same foul way as in Bolivia.) Later, my last day in Huaraz we ate 3 kilos of them in between Nick and I…

At 11 am we were finally there - at the entrance to the Quebrada de Santa Cruz. A dramatically narrow and steep gorge with a powerful river cutting its way in the middle. Resisting the offers from the locals to use their donkeys, we sweated our way uphill with the grossly overweight backpacks. From around 3,000 m we climbed to 3,800 getting more and more excited as the view on snow-capped mountains opened up. We camped out right by the river, surrounded by awesome cliffs. Empowered by several deep sips of Pisco (a slightly sweet liquor made out of grapes), we rapidly stripped our cloth off and jumped in the rapids. Excitement and pain! This is what I was craving so much on the Inca trail; I mean the lagunas and rivers to swim in. The water was freezing to the bones, but so refreshing. We climbed on a big rock still in the sun to dry out and watched the cows come by curiously looking at our tent (or our trembling bodies?). The evening was warm and spectacularly beautiful with the color of the sky changing from blue to pink, red, purple, and later dark blue to black, colors rapidly shifting from west to east as the sun came down. Here we for the first time saw THE star. Or was it a planet? A bright, yet soft eye looking at us from above, way before other stars made it on the horizon. Was it a protecting angel or our soul mate? Drawn to the sky, I decided to sleep outside with the stars being the actors on the stage. I fell asleep happily, but woke up just couple hours later, my sleeping bag covered in water that was quickly changing into frost, and my body with it. Damn, it got cold quickly. After a short hesitation I chickened out, left the performance above for tomorrow, and joined Nick at the tent.

Second day was equally beautiful, albeit more crowded as we climbed to the Alpamayo base camp at around 4,000 m. Our camp site was spectacular again, sitting in a large valley carved many years ago by glacial forces, and overlooking several snow-capped peaks, most notably the famous Alpamayo itself. But the best part awaited us yet another 200 vertical meters higher - a sizeable, green/blue laguna being fed by a glacier slowly sliding of a mountain slope. We did not waste much time and jumped in the lake. Just us and the mountains. Despite large chunks of ice floating on its surface, the water was surprisingly warm. Few strokes in the lake, some pictures, and we were out, drying on a large flat rock overlooking the lake.

The sunset was again quite stunning but what we were really waiting for was the star, our soul mate. She was there again! In her greatness and eternal beauty levitating just above Alpamayo, making her and the mountain a perfect couple as they played together in a soft blanket of deep-purple sky. Soon, as the night took possession of the sky, more stars were competing for his attention, but this only made her more beautiful in comparison. It seemed as if she now shined even stronger on his ribbed, rocky face so she could still see him in that darkness. Despite this effort, the lower and closer to him she reached, the more shy and darker he became. What happened to the sharp mountain dominating the horizon just an hour ago? Finally, as the star descended within the mountain’s reach, she laid her head in his deep, plush snowcap and they both disappeared in unity. I felt quite excited and little bit jealous to have witnessed this engagement. Like going to a wedding of your best friends alone. Pretty much speechless we left for bed hoping the star was going to visit us in our dreams.

The third day was tough, more than we expected or later admitted to each other. We woke up early to catch the sunrise uphill by the laguna. It was cold and dark but we had our friend Pisco to give us fire while we were waiting for the sun to come up. The light was perfect, but on the wrong mountaintop! Altamayo was still sleeping in the shade of a higher mountain. Several good shots (with camera and Pisco), a quick descend back in the campsite, shake off the ice from the cooking pan, pack the tent, and ready for another day of hiking. We started easy, descending back to the valley, but soon an unexpected obstacle came our way - two young bulls blocked our way and refused to move. The trail was on an extremely steep slope and so moving out of the trail was difficult to say at least. In the end Nick decided to push through and was charged by one of the bulls! It was clear then who would give up. Unwillingly, we climbed up to traverse above the two naughty bulls. I felt compelled to through a rock at them but decided not to; in the end we were the visitors here while the bulls were at home in the mountains. (or was it that I got scared?) Later that day we met dozens more cows and horses freely roaming in the valley and in the mountains up to 4,500 m high. One cow joined us for lunch. Literally. She watched us eating from just a few feet away and demanded that we give her bread. I did and then she let me strike her soft (but stinky and wet) neck and head. Then came a killer ascent, from 4,100 m to a 4,800 m pass. We arrived to the top breathless, literally. But the views were worth it. After a quick lunch on the top and a chat with a Swiss/Spanish couple, we moved on to make the descent, down to 3,800m. In the evening, again for a swim, this time in a glacier river, chugging a substantial dinner, and warming the stomach with our friend Pisco. Nick and I both stayed outside in our sleeping bags, watching the shooting stars perhaps until midnight when the cold forced us to retreat to our tents.

Last day was relatively easy, the walking part that is to say. The last leg of the trip involved catching a colectivo to take us through the mountains to Yungay and then another one to Huaraz. The trip was horrifying. We somehow managed to fit 19 people (20 including the driver) into a tiny van. The Swiss/Spanish couple that we met earlier got on the bus last and were given on-the-spot-made seats - being a bag of potatoes and a large plastic box. It took us 2 hours to climb to a 4,800 m high overpass right next to Huascaran, the highest mountain in Peru, and then another 2 hours to descend to Yungay, a town at mere 3,000 m in altitude. What a crazy project to build this road. Beats the “Death Road” in Bolivia by a wide margin. When we arrived to Yungay, my head was under the ocean. That’s how my ears felt, given the extreme change in pressure. It took a full night-sleep to get the pressure level in my head to equilibrium with that of outside. (Imagine how I feel now as I am writing this at a small beach town on the sea level, having descended here from 3,000 m in just few hours.) Let me say that we were quite relieved to have finally arrived to Huaraz late in the evening, after a 5-hour bumpy journey.

All that swimming in glacial lakes was awesome, but had its consequences. I arrived to Huaraz with a nasty cold and had to give up any ambitions for further climbing. We had one rest day and the following day left for Chavin, a 3,000 year-old ruin. Given its age, many earthquakes and floods, not surprisingly the site was quite damaged, but nevertheless was still quite impressive. We were told that there would be 4 young American women in our group so you can imagine the excitement and the expectations before the trip. I suspect these women were the reason why Nick joined me on this trip; just a day before he said he wouldn’t go. Where were they though? When we boarded our tour van, we wanted to cry, then we bursted into laugh. The people were quite comical - an American geek with a funny looking but admittedly very caring (to put up with him) Peruvian wife, a hot Peruvian stud (with tattoos and piercing everywhere) with an old Italian lady (how much was she paying him???), a middle age Peruvian couple that was filming everything (even a lecture in English a language that they definitely did not speak), and a Japanese boy that didn’t say a word the whole time. Apparently we were put on the wrong bus!!! The chicks were not there. But it was too late. Still, the day turned to be quite enjoyable and I would recommend the tour to anybody even remotely interested in Peruvian history, religion, or architecture. Chavin at its peak was the most important religious center in Peru and housed over 3,000 priests and their staff. The intricate carvings, the stonework, and the layout of the town definitely make this trip worth taking. Later that evening I parted with Nick. He stayed in Huaraz to climb a 5,600 m high mountain, while I left for the beaches, to chill out and try some surfing. Let’s see who has more stories to tell when we meet next…

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