hiking — Page 10

Machu Picchu

September 11, 2009 By Danny

Trek the Salcantay Trail…check
Make it Aguas Calientes…check.
Eat hot yummy food…check.
Go to bed early…check.

Wake up the morning following 4 hard days of hiking at 3am…WHAT?!?!?!?

Yeah, that’s right. Not only that, but the volume on the alarm wasn’t high enough so we almost slept in. Getting up really really early after treking all the way to Machu Picchu is practically a right of passage for those who hike to the ‘old’ mountain. One needs to get up that early to hike up an additional 400 meters, straight uphill, to be in line at the entrance BEFORE the buses taking the ‘normal’ people even depart. All this so that you can get one of the coveted tickets to hike straight up Wayna Picchu, (young mountain) an additional 200 meters into the air, to view Machu Picchu from above.

And that’s exactly what we did.

We were nearly late meeting the group on account of that alarm clock but we made it out anyhow. Back out ofAguas Calientes we walked, practically sprinting, to get ahead of the other hikers. At the foot of the hill we started walking up the steps. More than three thousand in all I was told. Three thousand steps straight uphill, with sore legs, so that we could walk even more once we got up there. Crazy right? Welcome to our world.

Only the first 400 people in line get the coveted tickets to Wayna Picchu, and getting up so early we were within the first 100. We went up so fast that, despite the rather cold air, I was covered in so much sweat it looked as though I’d gone for a midnight swim. (And for all those racers out there, we passed waaaayyy more people than passed us….yeehaaaw!!)

With tickets in hand, into one of the world’s newest seven wonders we went. (Who decides these things anyhow?) Our tour guide showed how the mountain was divided into living and farming and brought us to the temple and the king’s house. We watched as alpacas grazed on their ancestral land and as one traveler got down on one knee and offered his hand in marriage to another. We learned how the Inca’s split rocks to build the historic mount and also got a chance to visit the king’s bathroom and take a seat on his “throne.”

The ‘Lost City of the Incas’ was only used for about 100 years, just before the Spanish Conquest of the Incan Empire. It wasn’t ‘discovered’ until 1911 when a Yale professor stumbled upon the find and excavations began. As with all great things, the actual date of discovery is still disputed, along with the purpose of the city, along with the reasons for its decline, along with wheather or not it should even be opened for tourism.

Despite of how little is known or agreed upon, or perhaps because of it, we were not disappointed. We’ve seen many ruins now: Tikal, Monte Alban, Copan, and others. These ruins were out of another world though, truly magnificent. So what next, we got up well before the crack of dawn for the right to walk up that ‘other’ hill so that’s exactly what we did.

Whatever you do though, when talking about Macchu (old) and Wayna (young) Picchu (mountain) be sure you’re saying the word Picchu correctly. Note that if you see a group of indigenous men laughing at you while you’re talking about summiting the ‘Picchu’ it’s because you didn’t say “mountain” but are instead referring to a man’s…yeah.

I’m not sure whose idea it was to get up that early, or if I would have been upset if I hadn’t gotten the opportunity, but hiking up this time, already having been up nearly 7 hours and with the sun now beating very, very, very hard on us, I just kept stopping and asking myself why. Eventually we reached the top and I received my answer. Three-sixty views over the valley we walked the day prior and one of the 7 ‘new’ wonders of the world and I knew why.

Only 11am though and what an incredible day. Only three things left to do. Share a pizza (OK, maybe I ate one myself), a couple of beers, and wait for that train to take us back to Cuzco.

And then we began to walk… and walk…and walk.

September 10, 2009 By Jillian

Icy peaks, Monkeys and ruins, we were determined to show Leah all that Peru had to offer. Without super powers our only option to see all of this was a trek to Machu Picchu, and not on “the” Inca Trail. Opting instead for the Salkantay Trail, an alternative 5 day trek to Machu Picchu, we didn’t realize how much we would walk and walk and walk. If there’s one thing we’ve learned in our travels its that things are never exactly what they are made out to be. Originally we were told our trek was 28 km, which over 5 days is hardly any trekking. We immediately questioned the distance, but decided that our tour operators numbers didn’t account for any vertical distance.

At quarter to five in the morning, we set out from Cusco to the village of Mollepata. Bleery eyed we met the rest of our trekking group, a couple from the Netherlands, two British-Americans and two teenage Ecuadorians with their Dad.

After a quick breakfast of bread and jam, we left our heavy bags behind and set off up the road. Not 20 minutes later our trek had its first casualty. Turns out hiking boots come to Peru to die, as one of the British-Americans lost both shoe soles. Taping together the bottom of his shoes, we plodded on up a dusty road for the next 8 hours to our campsite. I’m pretty sure that in 8 hours we did at least 40% of the distance we were told we’d do in total. Hmmm….

Filling ourselves with popcorn and mate de coca (tea made from coca leaves) the three of us fortunately showed no signs of altitude sickness. Others in our group were not so lucky and spent the night in their tents. With the moonlight reflecting off the snow and an army of cooks and horsemen to do the difficult work, it was a perfect night of camping, even if it was freezing cold. Perhaps the best surprise of the trek was the next morning when the cooks woke us up with tent side tea service. I think the last time I was served hot tea at my tent was the weekend we got engaged! (Danny’s Note…there was no tent side tea that morning…it was hot chocolate)

Never successfully summited despite several international attempts, Salkantay Mountain is not nearly the highest peak in South America, but from below it certainly looks it. Fortunately we didn’t have to summit the mountain, just cross through the Salkantay Pass (4600m), so we got to sleep until sunrise! Although Danny and I climbed higher in Huaraz , it doesn’t seem to get any easier to breathe at high altitude, and we huffed and puffed our way to the pass.

I’m not sure what the exact threshold is, but at some point, no matter how acclimatized you are, it gets really, really hard to breathe and continue uphill. Your lungs just feel like they aren’t getting any air, and in reality they aren’t. I’ll admit, I took a few puffs of my asthma inhaler, something I haven’t done since being diagnosed with shortness of breath a few years ago. Breathless just short of the pass, I declared to our Ecuadorian friends, “no tengo ganas para subir mas.” (I don’t want to climb further). Cracking a smile, we finally made it to the pass and even the clouds took pity on us, parting to give us a view, if only for a few seconds, of Salkantay’s summit. A natural col, the pass was inhospitably windy and cold even at 10 a.m. The only objects at the top besides the sign and some rocks was a skeleton of what we think was a horse. Clearly the distance calculation from our operator was way off, for we walked uphill to the pass for almost 5 hours and like race walkers downhill for the next 3 hours. Others hikers on the same trek told us that they “trained” for the hike. Missed the memo on that one.

Thankfully the three of us are in good physical condition, for the next morning we were achy but still able to move. Unfortunately everyone in our group looked like they caught chicken pox overnight. Definitely not from normal mosquito’s, the bug bites covered our arms and legs in small red welts, which at least for Leah and Danny resulted in some very swollen elbows and ankles. Even with 100% DEET Leah was unable to keep the bugs off her and as we continued the march on the third day (another 6 hours), our rhythm was frequently interrupted with swatting and slapping the bugs away.

Continuing through the mountains along a riverbed, the elevation change wasn´t as drastic, but the scenery was incredible. From a snowy mountain pass the day before, we had descended down into a sub-tropical climate. Banana trees, orchids and humming birds, we couldn’t be further from the icy climate of the day before. Hiking with a purpose, we made it to our campsite by lunch. Greeted by Paco, a domesticated monkey, who took interest in our very dirty bodies and bags, we waited for lunch. Unfortunately for Leah, Paco took a real interest in her curly hair, touching her braids with his hands and even trying to gnaw on them.
Thankfully after our exhausting climb the day before, we spent the afternoon soaking in hot springs and the evening splitting a bottle of Pisco Now tell me you don’t want to come camping with us? 🙂

In the end I’m not exactly sure how far we walked, but I can tell you that for four days at least 6 hours a day, that is all we did. Uphill, downhill, and across riverbeds, the hike was a test unlike any other. The monotony of hiking for so long each day only to get up and do it again is really a testament to the strength of the group and our ability to keep each other interested and occupied. Sure the scenery is varied and fantastic, but for the most part the terrain kept our eyes firmly planted on the ground, leaving us only our rest breaks to really appreciate the mountains and forest around us.

And then there was smoke. Lots of smoke. On the last day, from the valley we had just walked out of, we saw a cloud of think smoke. Within minutes black and gray ash began to fall, and our guide decided it was time to move on. Striking out towards Aguas Calientes with determination, we walked along the railroad tracks away from the fire. From the opposite direction, a group of local men armed with machetes headed into the smoke hoping to destroy some of its fuel before it reached homes. Unfortunately forest fires are not that uncommon in the region as fires set by locals to burn trash frequently burn out of control. According to our guide, Machu Picchu itself has been threatened several times by forest fires in the last decade.

By the time we hauled our bodies into Aguas Calientes we were exhausted, plain and simple. No matter what the tour agency says, there is no way the hike was only 28 km. Though not particularly challenging at any one point the hike was overall draining and as we crashed into bed that night we declared no more! If only we knew…

We’re either arrogant or stupid

September 2, 2009 By Jillian

Twice as deep as the Grand Canyon, the Colca Canyon northeast of Arequipa is an incredible patchwork of agricultural villages nestled in colorful canyon walls. Like the Grand Canyon, Colca Canyon is still home to indigenous Cabana and Collagua peoples, who make their living through traditional farming. Unfortunately for us, its winter, so for the most part the fields were dry.

Every tour agency in Arequipa seems to offer tours to the Canyon from one day bus tours, to multi-day treks. Fortunately we contacted a local guide through couchsurfing who offered his expertise. In true Tobias style we decided to do a two day hike in one day. Our friend told us that it just isn’t done in one day because of the intense afternoon sun, but we’re either arrogant or stupid, and figured that after we conquered the Grand Canyon in a day we could certainly do Colca Canyon. Having assured our friend that we could do it after he expressed hesitation, we took the map he drew us, which we affectionately called the “treasure map”, and headed out on the bus. Six hours later we arrived in Cabanaconde, the furthest village in the canyon, grabbed a cheap hotel room and prepared for our hike.

Inspired by our plan, our new Spanish friends decided to dash their original plan and instead do our circuit, but in the less crazy time frame of two days. Our plan was simple, a loop from Cabanaconde east into the canyon crossing the river before breakfast, and continuing on the other side of the canyon west to the oasis before crossing the river again and climbing out. One variable was left to be determined- how would we handle the 3000 foot change from the canyon rim to the river and back up at over 10,000 feet?

At 4:15am the alarm rang, but seeing as it was still completely pitch black outside we slept for a few more minutes before finally rolling out of bed. Cold and in the dark, we walked out of the hostel shocked to see that the town was already up and moving. Shops, schools and even a restaurant or two were already open, and people were already sitting in the main plaza. Getting a move on, we hurried out of town to the trail head, arriving just before sunrise.

Hiking down to San Juan de Chuccho, the first village on our trek, we passed a few mule trains headed back up to Cabanaconde and a few indigenous men and women heading down. The trail down was steep, and in parts very rocky. (If you ever want to do this trail, it is definitely necessary to have good shoes, don’t be fooled by the smooth mule path the first hour.) Reaching San Juan de Chuccho we were shocked to see a number of really nice looking hostels and restaurants, but pushing to finish in one day we declined a very nice indigenous womens offer of breakfast.

Hiking along the other side of the canyon we were greeted by a number of side trails and off shoot trails. Unsure, we asked everyone we met which way to Costinirhuha, our next village. Friendly, they pointed us in the right direction and sent us on our way with a cheerful “buen viaje.” Unspoiled by the tourism they have, the small villages of Costinirhuhua and Malata were downright wonderful. Traditional clay homes spanned the canyon cliffs, hovering above terraced fields which spread down to the river. Clothed in traditional costumes, the villagers we met seemed genuinely happy to greet us and never once became pushy or aggressive while selling their hostel, food, or crafts. Unfortunately, pushy and aggressive locals have become a regular on our trip, sometimes so much so that they ruin the place we are visiting.

With the sun beating down on us, we clung to what little shade we could find as we rushed down to the Sangalle, the Oasis. The canyon itself was beautiful, from the inside it was blazing hot, but looking up we could see snow covered volcanoes. Hot and tired, we threw ourselves into a frigid pool at El Eden and lounged in their shade eating lunch. We had yet to run into our Spanish friends, and with a real lack of enthusiasm on my part, we headed out of Sangalle only to bump into them at the outskirts of town. Less zealous than us, they decided to take a mule train back to the canyon rim, so we parted ways and marched on.

The trail was straightforward, and by that I mean straight up. Though we didn’t have an altimeter, we figured that we climbed about 1000 feet in the first hour. Unfortunately the next two hours were similar and by the time we reach close to the top we were exhausted. Just as I was about to take my 30th break in the last hour, a man with two mules cheerfully came around the next switchback. “Hola Senorita!” He cried. Como estas? Necessitas Agua?” “No, pero estoy muy consada,” I replied. Laughing he chatted with us for a few more minutes before leaving us with good news- only 15 more minutes to the top! Energized, we mustered up what strength we could and found our way to the top. A beautiful view from above, we were unfortunately greeted by several burning trash fires, making us unwilling to spend time admiring our work. We headed back to Cabanaconde and collapsed.

The trek was difficult, but as we say in spanish, “vale la pena” (worth it). If you ever feel so inclined, it can definitely be done in a day, just make sure you are in shape, start early and be prepared with enough food and water.

When Nature Calls

August 13, 2009 By Danny

Everything Jill just shared about our Santa Cruz Trek is absolutely true. It was a fabulous hike, especially with the mules carrying everything. What made it even more special for me was how I woke up that first morning…when it was still dark out and I ran to the toilet (err, I mean hole in the ground).

Yes, when I woke up that first morning…after our first night of camping, I had diarrhea. For starters, pooping in the outdoors isn’t too fun to begin with. I’m not sure how many of you out there have actually done this before but you have to squat down low with your pants off totally exposed to the elements. Doing it once a day is bad enough but 4 times in one cold morning and pretty soon the thighs are hurting more than your pride.

So that is how my day started and it only got “better” from there. We debated turning back as we hadn’t walked very far the day before but there was a horse along on our trip and the Israelis who rented him, Boaz & Neri, urged me to ride it, so I agreed. I’ve not ridden horses but half a dozen times in my life and seeing this horse run from its handlers when they tried to bring him to me didn’t exactly give me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. Eventually I got on the thing but the group had already left without me leaving no one for my horse to follow…this meant I had to “drive” him myself. When you turn the wheel on a car it turns…on this horse, not so much. I spent the first 20 minutes of my ride doing circles around our campsite while another group took the opportunity to laugh. Great fun I was having. Also keep in mind that when a horse walks/trots it is very bumpy and my stomach was already in not so great shape.

Eventually another cowboy came along and gave my horse the push he needed to start up the fairly steep trail. Did I mention this day I chose to wake up with diarrhea was to be the hardest day of the trail? After an hour or so I caught back up with my group and trotted along for awhile. Eventually the trail got too steep for my horse and I had to walk him a bit. I’m not sure if it was the altitude (already above 4000m) or my body but that 100 yards or so impossible for me that Alexander, the Russian in our group, had to walk the horse for me as I simply couldn’t pull him.

Getting back on the horse my body temperature was now all out of wack. The air temp was falling yet I was starting to show a pretty decent fever. In addition to the t-shirt, fleece, and windbreaker I was wearing I ended up donning a down jacket from the Italian Fabrizio while taking tylenol from his girlfriend Valentina. Back on the horse it basically walked at its own pace…I didn’t even bother trying to tell it where and when to go.

Before reaching the main climbing portion of the day, where we’d climb all the way to 4750m to cross to the other side of the mountains, the guide told me that the horse wouldn’t be able to do all of it with me on its back. Feeling a little better, despite barely touching dinner and only eating a stale roll for breakfast, I started walking and resolved to finish a cliff bar by the time I got to the top. I quickly fell behind the group but step by step managed to keep a reasonable pace. Stopping every 100 yards or so I just kept working at walking. Someone (I think it was Jill) put Sound of Music in my head so I started singing “doe a deer” to myself….I think people thought I was going insane. Thankfully I had Jill on one side of me and Fabrizio on the other urging me along…singing and all.

At the top of the pass everyone began to eat their lunch. I looked at my half eaten cliff bar (the one I had resolved to finish before getting to the top) and at a rock on a flat piece of trail, and decided to take a quick power nap before doing anything else. Then I finished my cliff bar. The Tylenol I’d taken was starting to wear off and I was becoming colder so I led the way downhill and let everyone else catch up…which they did quickly.

Seeing that I was getting weak again everyone suggested that I try to get back on the horse. Taking their advice but still feeling very exhausted the guide handed the reins to his 11 year old nephew Chris, rather than to me, telling him to guide us down slowly. In the 5 minutes I was on the horse I found myself reminding Chris to go slower…go slower….then he gave the reins a tug and the horse wasn’t ready. The horse lost his balance and began to fall forward. I flew over the top of the horse, upset stomach and all, landing ahead and downhill of the beast. For the first time I can remember I tried not to stop myself but to continue falling as I figured the horse was rolling down as well. Nope, he regained his balance once I flew over the top but I was still down on the ground. Yes, I fell off the horse.

Only a few bruises on my shins so no worse for the wear but still not the way I wanted to go down. A few people, I’m not sure who, helped me up. Another hiker asked if I was suffering from altitude sickness or diarrhea as he had coca leaves to help with the altitude. I started climbing downhill and found Valentina for some more of that Tylenol.

In hindsight the day could have been WAY worse. I could have been far sicker and the horse could have fallen on me. I still wasn’t able to eat much for dinner but the next morning, despite feeling incredibly weak from having not eaten, I felt 100x better. I really did have a great time on the hike despite my troubles and am – thankfully – completely fine now.

Climb every mountain! Ford every Stream!

August 12, 2009 By Jillian

Heaving as I reached the top of the pass, I was glad the hard part was over. At 4750m (about 15,500 feet) doing anything can be a challenge, let alone hiking uphill.

Resting at Punto Union pass early Friday morning I could hardly believe my eyes. What had taken us less than 24 hours to climb, despite the altitude, had given us the most spectacular views of the Cordillera Blanca. Surounding mountain peaks covered with snow, blue lagoons too icy to even put a toe in, the surrounding wilderness was incredible and well worth the effort of the climb.

But how did I find myself on the top of a very cold (I wore every piece of warm clothing I have with me!), very high mountain Friday morning? After obtaining our very necessary, but only slightly pain in the butt Bolivian visas, we left Lima for a “vacation” from our travel. Busing to the mountain city of Huaraz on Wednesday night, I expected to be mountain biking all weekend. Unfortunately the only place in town that would arrange a decent mountain bike tour wanted $300 per person for three days and well, that was not happening. Since we could not bike the mountains we decided to do the next best thing, and booked a group trek through the moutains. There I was at 4750m Friday before lunch…

Early Thursday morning we piled into a van on a dark street corning in Huaraz. Not yet dawn, we shook hands with the rest of the group and stared out the window. As the van climbed the valley into the mountains, the clay hut villages became fewer and fewer until finally we reached the park entrance. A steep 65 sole ($22) entrance fee later, we were all awake, with our eras popping, as the van climbed slowly up and over the mountains. Arriving at the trail head, we scarfed down a packed lunch and headed down the path with the mules in quick pursuit. Thats right, this was no ordinary backpacking trip- we had the luxury of mules to carry our things, a helper to cook for us, and arrived at camp every night to tents already set up! Now I know some of you are jealous…

Although it sounds plush, and granted not having to actually “backpack” was a luxury, the trek was anything but a walk in the park. Crossing through valleys and small villages on the first day, we saw the snow covered mountains in the distance. Not yet used to my humor, the group stared at me in shock when I jokingly pointed to the highest mountain in sight and proclaimed it to be the pass we would climb through the following day. If only we knew…

Arriving at our first campsite just before dark we were greeted with hot tea, mate (cocoa leaves), instant coffee and cookies. This was really my kind of camping! After dinner of rice and chicken we proclaimed it bedtime and scurried out of the dining tent. Before us however, looming in the dark, were enormous snow covered mountains, which in the moonlight appeared to float in the sky. With the temperature dropping (supposedly it was -5 degrees Celsius), we admired the illusion as long as we could before hopping into our down sleeping bags. (Seriously, the alpaca hat was necessary, don’t laugh!) I slept with four layers on my top, two pairs of pants, the alpaca hat, an alpaca scarf, a pair of hiking socks and a pair of knee high alpaca socks. Trust me, it was cold.

Waking up the next morning, we exchanged cold night miseries and hit the trail. Although the first day was relatively easy, the second day was much more of a challenge. I felt like the Von Trap family, climbing through the Alps to escape the Nazi’s. Ok so no one was chasing us, but believe me it felt like we were going to “climb every mountain.” Hiking 1000m in altitude the first five hours, we summited Punto Union pass around lunch time, collapsing in a heaving pile at the top. As we caught our breath (some of us taking longer than others) we took in the scenery around us. Undoubtably it was what brought all of us on the trek, and as we admired in silence our guide Eric began to play his flute. Like the Andean music sold around the world on busy street corners, the native tunes Eric played symbolized the time and place. Before we could get too sentimental though, he changed to a medly of Beatles tunes and we were off down the mountain.

Settling into our somewhat warmer dinner tent that night, I felt lucky that we had climbed the mountain without serious incident. Cases of altitude sickness are very common on these treks, in fact almost everyone we passed offered cocoa leaves to anyone looking slightly ill. One group of British teens we passed on the way down had two girls suffering from altitude sickness, one of whom our guide thought had high altitude pulmonary edema, a life threatening condition where your lungs fill with fluid. Lacking serious altitude aliments, just a few minor headaches solved with a little tylenol, our group thawed over hot tea, mate and instant coffee before dinner.

With the hard part over, the next morning we took it easy and left camp around 9am. Splintering in three directions, part of our group climbed to a viewpoint overlooking Alpamayo glaciar, while others, either because of the cold or a flight home, headed for a long hike to end the trek early. With no where to be, Danny and I lounged in the sun waiting for the others to come down from Alpamayo. Spotting them at the top of the mountain, at the beginning of their decent, the guide sent us ahead with his nephew. With only one snow capped mountain in site, we easily followed a stream through the valley to our third campsite. On the edge of a small river, the spot was incredible, and again over hot tea and instant coffee we marveled at the landscape with the rest of the group.

Managing our way out of the valley the next day I was sad that the trek was over. Easily feasible in fewer days, I enjoyed our slow pace which for once allowed me to really enjoy the landscape around me. Although Llanganuco to Santa Cruz is the most popular trek from Huaraz the trail was not overly crowded and we were able to really stop, enjoy and soak in the mountains around us. It was freezing at night and the second day it was tough to breathe, but the trek was enjoyable and even shall we say relaxing. Well, for some of us. Wait until you hear Danny’s side of the story…

Machu Picchu

And then we began to walk… and walk…and walk.

We’re either arrogant or stupid

When Nature Calls

Climb every mountain! Ford every Stream!

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