Weekend Warrior — Page 13

Los Pinguinos (San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico)

September 19, 2009 By Danny

After “mountain biking” with several companies in Mexico only to ride flat gravel paths we were convinced there was little commercial mountain biking to be found in Mexico. Although we had been in real bike shops in Mexico, none of the tours turned out to be real mountain biking. And then we met Ursula. Taking what we figured might be our last stab at mountain biking in Mexico, we headed to Los Pinguinos in San Cristobal de las Casas. The modern equipment, covered in dirt told us that this trip would be different. As we fitted our gear (helmets and bike gloves!) Ursula explained the trail to us and cautioned us that no cameras would be allowed. Sensing our disappointment Ursula explained that many of the local villages believe that cameras steal their souls and since her trips go to villages that no other tours go to, it was important for her to respect their wishes and customs.

The trek itself was a mixture of single track and dirt roads and some very challenging uphills. We road through a cloud forest and a few small indigenous villages where the paved roads don’t go. It was a great way to explore the area and get out of touristy San Cristobal. Very highly recommend mountain biking with Los Pinguinos.

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.

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…

Necessito ir a Banos

August 3, 2009 By Jillian

Alive and happy after Danny’s second attempt on the river, and after overcoming the worst of my stomach bug, we took a very bumpy ride through the jungle back into the mountains to get to Banos. A lovely mountain town, famous really for its hot springs, but also a number of adventure activities from mountain biking to whitewater. Advised against kayaking in the nearby rivers due to pollution, and after seeing the “mountain bike” path (the curvy, heavily traveled mountain road), we decided to just spend some time relaxing.

Heading to the hot springs our first night, we were shocked to find them crowded, no, really they were overflowing with people. Packed in like sardines into two small pools cut into the mountain the setting was relaxing but the atmosphere was anything but. Turns out the hot springs are extremely popular at night and after about 10 minutes we couldn’t take the crush of people any more and headed back to the hostel for dinner.

Taking it easy, we spent the next day hiking through the mountains (really easy at 2000m in altitude!) from view point to view point. After about 3km, we came across a beautiful cafe high above the city. Accessible only by foot or mule, cafe de cielo was part of a luxury spa and resort complex. Very affordable, just not on a backpackers budget, we sprung for two hot chocolates instead. Continuing on our path, we climbed through cow pastures and farm land before reaching the highest viewpoint. Thwarted by clouds, we could only see the bottom third of the volcano.

Heading down to a viewpoint overlooking the city, we came across a shaking tree. Giggles from the tree tipped us off to the children inside before they offered us some fruit. Asking their names and sharing ours, Danny inquired as to what they were playing. We are monkeys they replied in laughter and you are a cow. Not processing what they said, Danny smiled. They called you a cow, I said to him. What? Danny said as he turned to the children. They erupted in laughter and we continued up the path.

Banos was relaxing and delicious. Apart from finding real pizza, we also found the first Ecuadorian chocolate bar that we liked. Unsatisfied with just one bar, we bought four to last us until Lima where hopefully we can restock. Although our packs might be small, somethings are just that important. 🙂

With Banos, our time in Ecuador had come to a close. Instead of 9 days we could have spent 90. This is a country just filled with outdoor activities and culture to go with it. Although we got some river time in and the all important equator, there is a lot we didn’t get to do in Ecuador like biking to indigenous villages or visiting the pacific coast at all.

The big thing we really missed out on was the the Galapagos. We had hoped to find a last minute deal while in Quito but the last minute deals were virtually non-existent because it is the middle of high season…which corresponds to the U.S. school year. Given the timing and the cost we figure that we can book a Galapagos trip sometime during their low season and fly from the USA for cheaper than we could do the trip for now. Since it is so close to the US we’d rather save our “big-ticket” money for things that are farther away and more difficult to return to….like Antarctica!

Los Pinguinos (San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico)

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

We’re either arrogant or stupid

Climb every mountain! Ford every Stream!

Necessito ir a Banos

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