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Published: October 10th 2009
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Jump in a car, catch a bus, pedal the wheels, or lace up the shoes and follow the road. Stop to eat. Use the bathroom. And keep going. Follow it all the way to the next metropolis. Use the phone. Have a drink. Put on your seatbelt and turn up the volume. Make sure the camera is charged. Open up the guidebook and read about places others have been. Adjust the temperature. Keep going. It´s what we do.
Yet somehow, from time to time, we are pulled off the road. Into the ocean. The desert. A foreign country. Atop a mountain.
There is a rope around our waist. A board under our feet. Water strapped to our backs. A map nestled in the pocket. There are comforts, but off the road predictability sheds a few letters. It´s why we leave.
And so it is, I find myself at 17,000 ft. with a cheek full of coca leaves, snow on the sleeve, a glacier to my left, a laguna below, and a few more days and passes before returning to the road.
We are trekking around Ausangate, a mountain sacred in Inca tradition-- a 20,000 ft. behemoth. We
have our comfort, his name is Miguel Jove, and he has brought his comfort in the form of a horseman named Alberto, and Domingo the cook.
There are also horses. Four to be exact.
Still there are stories. Of a woman who took off all her clothes in a panic-- in freezing temperatures. The well-built young man who needed human crutches to keep from falling in his own vomit. Purple lips. Sleepless nights. Early retreats. Here, nothing is predictable. And there is no road.
Just a route.
The route begins in Cuzco where all preparations are made; tents, bags, layers, food, socks, boots, etc... Enough to laden four horses. And pills. Three days of acclimitization pills that oxygenates the blood, tingles the fingers and toes, and wreaks havoc inside and out.
The path proper begins in Tinki, three hours from Cuzco on a newly built road, that according to Miguel, has altered Tinki in the six months since its construction.
The air is mild during the day but subject to drastic change. As days progress, clouds build and march from the horizon, concealing hail and snow. At over 4,000 meters breathing is laborious. On
our way to 5,000 meters, the chest heaves and the sun burns.
Alpacas roam the valleys and pick their way across mountainsides. A barking dog is heard. Then a stone dwelling appears and two children along with it. A woman in traditional Andean clothing is seen in the distance. The sound of the wind alone adds to the feeling of isolation. In this extreme environment where grown men are sometimes brought to their knees, women and children rule. While the men eek out a living in town, the women tend to the flocks and spin the previous harvest into warmth and the children await a handout-- a marble, a trinket, fruit, or better yet... candy!
We wear wool socks and boots. They wear sandals made from used tires. No socks. Ever. Their feet resemble the Earth they navigate-- hard, dark, and accustomed to the elements.
There are five of us hiking together: Miguel, ourselves, and Mike and Marisa, another young couple from San Francisco whom we now call friends. Alberto, Domingo, and the horses move on a different schedule, and one that is much quicker than our own.
We hike all day. Up. Down. Across. Around.
Each step felt and enjoyed. Every place spectacular in its own way. I prefer walking behind, stopping frequently to watch birds and remind myself... I´m in the Andes! Caracara circle high above, clouds cast their shadows on the snow-covered peaks. Turqouise lagunas appear over a crest. Rivulets carve the valleys. Magical streams run from hidden sources.
At night the ground freezes. The temp dips to -8 C. We huddle in a tent, drinking tea, and listening to Miguel.
Miguel is 31, fit, with honest eyes and an enormous heart. His story is so incredible, a former client published it in the New York Times.
The quick version.
Working at a hostel in the Peruvian jungle, supporting the love of his life, wild circumstances led to a dinner with Roy-- a childless architect from Telluride, Colorado.
Roy was simply a guest in the hostel. Now, 14 years later, Miguel refers to him as his dad. And why not? A week after asking Miguel his dream, Roy put $1,500 in his pocket, brought him to Cuzco, and enrolled him in the university. He has watched Miguel grow from an opportunistic youth to an opportunistic adult.
Miguel´s
dream is to become the best tour guide in all of Peru.
(A distinction.)
In the States, when I hear of a tour guide, I conjure an image of Andrew Baumgarten standing at the front of the bus, translating the passing scenery in its historical context to a group of half-interested senior citizens. "And to your left you´ll find the birthplace of Eleanor Roosevelt. A seldom heard fact about the former first lady, she was..." Ooh´s and aah´s abound.
As a tour guide, Miguel lead climbs 20,000 ft. peaks, treks all over Peru, and is well versed in birds, plants, geology, Andean culture, and Inca tradition. He speaks English, Spanish, and Quechua. And has deep respect for the land. Not to discredit Andrew, but this is an important distinction.
The landscape is lunar. Deep reds give way to browns and grays on an endless horizon. Blue-tinged glaciers slowly re-position and drip into icy lagunas. We cast for trocha (trout) to no avail. The sky darkens, opens up, then clears. Our feet ache and our heads pound. Mike had a rough night and there´s a pile of vomit as evidence.
On we go. Up we go.
One pass. Two passes. Three passes. A fourth to climb tomorrow. We drink coca tea in the morning and chew on the leaves all day. It gives us energy. The coca plant is as important to the Andean people as is the alpaca and the mountain, and it has nothing to do with the synthetic drug that fills the minds of gringos when they think of our southern neighbors.
There is no story, just an experience-- a chance to leave the road and fill my mind with faces and places that, with concentrated effort, will endure. I will returrn to the comfort of the pavement and all that it offers. Then someday, I will leave again...
(Apologies for a lack of captions.)
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Dave
non-member comment
rock it.
glad to see you are out and about. take care buddy.