Blister factory

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Cabanaconde lies on the lip of Colca Canyon, about 5 hours by bus from Arequipa (blogged separately). With Arequipa bus station being quite a way out of town, we decided to purchase our Cabanaconde bus tickets from an agency near the main square, figuring that whatever commission they might charge would be no more than the gringo taxi fares we'd be paying if we bought the tickets in person. This was a poor decision in hindsight, as their 66% commission was more than double the cost of a cab plus, for that mark-up, they gave us totally incorrect information about the available buses, including the departure time of our own bus. One positive was the fact that you could open the windows of the bus for ventilation, which made a pleasant change from the we-have-it-but-won't-use-it aircon policy adopted by Cruz del Sur.

At Chivay, a chap wearing an official-looking jacket got on and attempted to force all foreigners to buy a ticket for the canyon. This was news to us but we would have paid if some more knowledgeable fellow-passengers hadn't pointed out to him that there was a distinction between people visiting the condor lookout and those simply venturing into the canyon, and the latter group did not need to purchase the ticket - a fact you would have thought he should be aware of.

Cabanaconde is small, and appeared to have a significant proportion of tourists in its few restaurants. It's on the circuit due to being an ideal base for excursions in to Colca Canyon. The canyon is possibly the second deepest in the world (the deepest is in the same area but is less accessible), though the criteria for measuring such things seem to be so flexible that just about any depression in the ground could lay claim to the title with an appropriate set of caveats and conditions. Whatever, in the main section visited by tourists it drops over 1km from the rim's height of about 3,300m above sea-level. It's also home to a population of Andean condors that are partial to the flying conditions, riding the thermals in defiance of gravity.

Leaving the hotel at 9AM, it was already warm and sunny, and we were soon shedding layers. The descent into the canyon was down a rough path strewn with loose stones. The effort required to avoid slipping was not inconsiderable, leading to this downhill portion demanding much concentration. As such, it was difficult to pay much attention to the scenery whilst moving. We overtook an English tour group, whose constant chatter grated in the quiet of the canyon until we had moved out of earshot. Pretty much from the outset, we could see the Sangalle oasis on the floor of the canyon, its location marked by the incongruous presence of 3 swimming pools. Also visible were several settlements clinging to the opposite wall, and numerous zigzag paths like our own.

Much of the canyon has at least sparse vegetation, with enough cacti and aloe vera to draw one's attention away from the scrub. The rock also displays variety, with some patches resembling strands of spaghetti. But what your eyes take in is dominated by the overwhelming sensation of going down. And down. And down. And all the time you can see your destination - and it doesn't actually look that far away - but the distance lessens only grudgingly.

After 2.5 hours of one switchback after another, we reached the oasis, its swimming pools even more of an anomaly given the basic reed hut accommodation offered by the resorts. It was somewhat disappointing to find, in this fairly remote setting with no industrialisation to pollute the air, a large group of smoking, sunbathing Europeans.

I'd started the Peru leg of my travels with a new pair of hiking boots, however the more-than-satisfactory level of comfort they had provided in our gentle meanderings since Cusco had been exposed by the rather harsher terrain in Colca Canyon, with blisters forming and chafing already having bloodied my ankles. I was to bitterly regret my slapdash planning in bringing only 1 pair of socks and some inferior quality sticking plasters on this hike.

From the oasis we had a short downhill to the river Colca, and then a slow, painful, hour-long haul up to the town of Malata, punctuated by frequent stops to give my plates a rest. From there, it was a level meander to Cosnirhua, another basic town with few signs of either life or modernity, where a local kid asked us for whiskey and a shirt. We didn't meet many local people, but the adults unfailingly said hello when they passed us. We saw few foreigners either, and they all appeared to be heading in the opposite direction to us. The path then descended to a bridge crossing the river, which confused us as our map indicated we should have reached our intended destination, San Juan de Chuccho, before then, but arrows painted on the rocks - similar to what we'd found in Tiger Leaping Gorge - implied we were headed in the right direction.

We reached San Juan de Chuccho in the late afternoon, finding the colourful, hospitable environment of Hostal Gloria a suitable place to spend the night. Our room was basic and we went to bed by candlelight, but the owners were extremely helpful and provided some excellent meals at a price belying the fact that most of the ingredients had been brought in by mule. Another resident was a hyperactive little dog clad in a sweater bearing the crest of a local football team. When the beast wasn't burrowing manicly in search of God knows what, or running around in circles in some imagined canine track race, it was up to mischief - as I was having a rinse in the bracing outdoor shower, it ran off with one of my socks. The owners also had a fluffy cat that was large enough to keep the dog in line with the occasional clout, and clever enough to rarely leave the warmth and potential food scraps of the kitchen.

The climate at altitude, even just a couple of thousand metres above sea-level, can be one of extremes and, despite the sweatiness of the day, we were glad to have brought fleeces and coats as, once the sun had vanished beyond the canyon's rim, it was rather cold, not helped by the cloudless sky which, in recompense, offered us piercingly clear views of the Milky Way.

The following morning we left early, but even a 7:30AM departure turned out to be too late to avoid the sun. LA Woman gave me her second pair of socks, in the hope that what had been giving her blisters might help me to avoid further ones, but the arduous climb back up to the top of the canyon was one of the least enjoyable hikes I've done. My feet were a constant source of torture, and the relentless sun sweated all the liquid out of me to the point where I was stupidly dehydrated. I stopped for a break every time the path changed direction, and could barely summon up the manners to greet the tour groups who were descending with irritating energy. LA Woman slowed to a crawl so as to not get too far ahead, but I managed to undercut even that speed.

One plus about this snail-like progress was that I had the time to look around me and absorb the surroundings (through gritted teeth). I saw only a couple of condors circling high overhead, but LA Woman had one do a close-up fly-past that unfortunately happened too quickly to be captured on camera.

Just over 4 hours after we'd started, we crested the path to see, across the fields, Cabanaconde, and its implicit statement that we were out of the canyon. I felt the kind of elation that rids the brain of bad memories and only recalls the positives. We hobbled towards the town, passing many local people who were working in the fields. One child ran from distance to ask us for biscuits, and clearly didn't believe my apology that I'd eaten my last Twix about 2 hours previously.

Back at the hostal we took stock of our injuries. My blisters had mercifully all popped, leaving simply tender skin that was easy to bind, but LA Woman had a couple of serum-filled beauties that were a little harder to deal with. The muscle pains only showed up later, and stairs were to be our enemy for the next few days.

We took the earliest bus out of Cabanaconde in the morning, which featured several tourists due to visit Cruz del Condor, the main condor viewpoint at the canyon. We'd debated whether it would be worth the stop-off but, as neither of us was exactly gagging to see more condors, plus transport away from there was guaranteed to be at least uncomfortable and at worst non-existent, we'd decided to give it a miss. Soon after, the bus broke down but 45 minutes later we were on our way again, the problem seemingly fixed by simply finding a stream and replenishing the engine's water.

At about lunchtime, we were back in Arequipa.

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Photos

Zigzag path
They all are ...

Into the blue
Path in Colca Canyon

Countryside
Cabanaconde

Sangalle oasis
As seen on the way down

Signs
Sangalle oasis

Vases
Sangalle oasis

Swimming pool
Sangalle oasis

Bridge
On the path between Sangalle oasis and Matala

Comments

[zsteve]

Beautiful...
Similar to your Arequipa blog, you have captured the real beauty of Colca Canyon. Great photos!