Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
4am arrived very quickly. And my hot shower water only lasted about a minute. So I was very awake. I was out in the lobby ready to go on time, but I wasn't entirely prepared, since my troubles our last full day in Cuzco had prevented me from purchasing everything I needed for the next phase of our trip, The Trek. It was the most anticipated, and probably also the most dreaded part of our trip, and it's centerpiece: The Choquequirao Trek. First up this morning was a 4 hour bus ride to our starting point, the small village of Cachora. This is my third time typing this episode, since my blog has had some technical difficulties over the past few days and has lost all my data twice. So bear with me if it seems I'm trying to rush through this too much, and if it's shorter than normal.
On our way to the village, we stopped to view one of Peru's tallest peaks, which Cesar, our guide, informed us was rarely visible, usually being shrouded in cloud cover. This peak, if I remember correctly, is more than 20k feet tall.
There was also a beautiful valley view to the left of it, with the low cloud cover looking like a sea of white, with mountain islands poking up through it.
Once we reached Cachora, we met some of the other supporting personell that would be going with us, and were treated to a tasty breakfast of eggs. This photo, courtesy of Danielle, shows the very beginning of our trek, which started out on a nondescript street in this small village.
Ahead of us lay roughly 19 kilometers (11.8 miles) to our first night's campsite, then another 13 kilometers (8ish miles) straight up hill to our destination, the lost city of Choquequirao. 32 kilometers (20 miles) over two days. On flat ground, that wouldn't be a big deal, but this would be anything but flat. Day one would be our easy day, relatively speaking. We had 9-10 km of gentle declines and climbs followed by 9-10 km of straight downhill drop. It was anything but easy, but would seem so, comparatively, when all was said and done. At our first rest break, Cesar educated us on the tradition of the Coca plant, how it was integral to Peruvian culture and tradition, and the benefits it offered. He gave each of us a handful of leaves to chew, so we could try it ourselves. I don't know if it made a difference or not, but I'm glad I actually at least tried it. Our first rest stop was beautiful, and I would've loved to have stayed longer.
(Photo by Danielle)
From here, our first day's only uphill bit caused me to fall behind the rest of the group. But the hike was so beautiful, I hardly minded walking alone amongst such serene, majestic mountains. When we stopped for lunch, we got our first view of our destination, off in the far distance, across the valley, high in the mountains above. We had quite a climb in store for us tomorrow. I thought I had taken a photo from the lunch stop, but apparently I did not. If I come across one at some point, I'll add it here. After lunch, the trail turned straight down hill, and was much easier for me. I have strong legs (just weak lungs) so downhills are no problem. I kept up with everyone from there on out. Here's John, photographed by Danielle, on our downhill slope after lunch.
A beautiful hike, don't you think? I could've stayed out in those mountains forever.
After the worst of the downhill portion of the day, we stopped for a group photo. I can still remember this like it were yesterday...
That's the ten of us. This is one of the only photos I know of that just has the ten of us in it, with no guides, no locals, nobody but us. I already miss those guys. Its strange how closely you can bond with someone in such a short time in settings like this. I can't help but think of all these people as close friends, even though I may never see any of them (except perhaps Lindsay) again. We've emailed one another several times since the end of the trip, and shared photos (as you can tell by my using them) and stories of our lives post Peru, but it seems like a dream now. In a strange way, it wouldn't surprise me one bit for Steve, or Nick or Tom, or any of these guys to shake me awake tomorrow morning and tell me "Come on, it's time to go!" and step out of my apartment into the Andes, with some impossible climb ahead of us. But I'm getting ahead of myself, because there is still an impossible climb to describe. But first, rest.
Our first night's camp was like an oasis of green amongst all the brown of the Peruvian dry season. In a sense, it was foreshadowing of what was to come, once we crossed the micro-climate threshold into the jungle. We were surrounded by palm trees, mango trees, banana trees, bamboo, and the usual spectacular views. Here's Chikisca, our camp:
From here, tomorrow's challenge was even more readily apparent. Here's a shot of what was to come:
That's a small portion of the uncounted switchbacks straight up the mountain that loomed over the morrow. The sun sets early in the mountains, due to the higher horizon, but I think it does it on purpose, so you'll pay attention to it's grandeur.
The only cloud in the sky that afternoon was kind enough to make it's way to the west, to participate in the sun's bedtime show.
Bedtime for the sun, however, meant good morning to the stars. Being 10 miles from the nearest civilization, and high up where the atmosphere is thinner afforded us a night time sky show that took our breath away. My only regret is that I had forgotten to read up on what to recognize in the southern hemisphere's night sky, other than the obvious Southern Cross. But what I was immediately reminded of was the fact that you can see the galaxy's central bulge from the southern hemisphere. And the absence of light pollution also made dark dust lanes, tight star clusters, and even galactic nebulae visible to the naked eye. I had brought my binoculars specifically for this, and Steve and I spent some time lying on our backs looking at the stars, while I gave him a basic astronomy lesson, ill-prepared as I was. Seeing a sky like that always makes me contemplate the infinity that is the universe, and the still incomprehensibly gigantic thing that is our galaxy. Here, we could actually turn and look back towards the center of the galaxy from our perch out here in our distant spiral arm. It was fun to try to view the milky way that stretched before us as a three dimensional star scape, rather than just a flat black surface dotted with stars. It boggles the mind to try to see it as that, and to begin to grasp some tiny perspective of the infinity that is space. It's also difficult to think about that and then go to sleep, which I had to do. But considering the exercise I'd had, it wasn't that difficult.
I slept on my sleeping pad with no covers that night. It was hot down in the valley. This is understandable when you consider that we'd descended nearly a kilometer (3289 feet) since our hike began. There would be a 1500 meter (1.5 km) difference between the lowest point and the highest point on tomorrow's hike. All straight up. Cesar told us that this valley, the Apurimac river valley, was the deepest valley in the world, sometimes reaching 3000 m deep. That's twice as deep as the Grand Canyon.
Day Two
It's all uphill from here. I knew this would be the hardest day of hiking in my life, and I was prepared for that. I sacrificed photography so I could focus on simply making it to the next destination. Though my legs were holding up very well, and my feet were yet to hurt, I was still struggling with the altitude, and my general poor conditioning. I quickly fell behind the main group, but I was not alone. Ami was also having trouble with the climb, and I really appreciated her lagging back with me. Together, we were able to commiserate and offer support for one another, and meet the challenge ahead with someone who was struggling just as much, which was a good thing. We weren't alone, however. Lagging back intentionally to offer support were Tom and Nick. If it weren't for Nick, I might still be out on that trail somewhere, trying to catch my breath. (Come to think of it, that wouldn't be such a bad thing...). Nick could've easily kept up with the others, but he was concerned for those of us that were struggling and stayed back to make sure that we stayed supplied with rehydration tablets, bug repellent and sunscreen. Bugs were a big problem during this portion of the trip. We had to constantly reapply repellent to avoid being eaten alive by these tiny mosquitoes that swarmed around us. Thanks to Danielle, I have a few shots to post from during that toughest part of our hike. Here, John and Kirk make their ascent:
You can see the tail portion of the previous day's trail across the valley in the background. Of course, we'd have to go back up that, but that would be another day...
Up we go...
And up and up....
Cesar had estimated that we would arrive at our lunch spot by 11am. I, frankly, didn't believe him. I told him, "all of us may not arrive by that time", but sure enough, at about 11:05 am, I arrived at the lunch spot. Strangely, the last hour of the climb, which was the most difficult, became easier and easier for me. I don't know if I hit my second wind, or if it was just some combination of the rehydration tablet from Nick, the Ibuprofen I took, plus the Coke I drank (I needed sugar on this day). But, I found a pace, and a breathing rhythm that seemed to combine and allow me to go 2-3 times as far before resting, and to rest for far less time than I had previously. The one downside of this is that I left my unofficial hiking partner, Ami, far behind. I felt kind of bad about it, but I was eager to see what I was capable of, and to improve upon it, and I did. At our stop, we had another fantastic meal. The cooks on this hike were amazing. It was the best I've ever eaten over any 5 day period of my life. I can't say enough about the job they did. Every meal was worth looking forward to. At our lunch stop, we had our first real good look at the lost city of Choquequirao. Here's a shot where you can see the trail ahead of us, which is the line in the ridge in the middle of the photo. If you follow the line from right to left, it points straight at a dip in the ridge behind it. That's the city. Can you see it?
Ok, if you can't make it out above, here's a shot from the same spot, zoomed in.
Amazing how these Inca cities just seem to grow right out of the mountainside.
From here, it was a short, mostly level (with small ups and downs) hike to our final destination. I was able to keep up with the main group from this point on, although at one point, due to the fact that some of the group started loudly singing, a portion of the group decided to sprint the remaining hundred yards or so to the campsite, wanting nothing to do with the noise. And what a campsite. If I'm not mistaken, we were camping right on actual Inca terraces, down below the main city. I could've stayed at this campsite for weeks, but 2 nights would have to do.
Here's the view from my tent, out into the valley.
We had the option of viewing a lower portion of the ruins (lower, even, than our campsite) but everyone was too tired to even think about more walking. I was up for it, mentally, and would've toughed it out physically if it had happened, but it didn't. So we settled in for the night, and began to take stock of our mosquito bites, blisters, sunburns, and general soreness. We'd have a day without hiking tomorrow, which would be good for our recovery. Most of us decided to brave the showers at the campsite, which I swear were actually below freezing. Laughter erupted from the entire camp when the first to brave the showers were heard screaming when the water hit them. When my turn came, I gritted my teeth and washed one body part at a time under the icy torrent, being careful to remove my parts before I lost all feeling in them. Even Cesar, our experienced, local guide, screamed like a little girl when the water hit him. All in all, spirits were very high with everyone, after accomplishing what we'd done that day, and knowing that the worst was over, and the best was yet to come. It was impossible not to notice the stars again that night. But I had to tear myself away from them to get some sleep at some point. Besides, while it had been close to 80 degrees when we were sleeping at Chikisca the night before, it rapidly dropped into the 40's here, some kilometer and a half higher up. After baking in the heat of Southern California for the past few months, it was a delightful change to put on long johns and bundle up in a sleeping bag. I wish I were there right now.
Next installment: The Lost City of Choquequirao
It's all uphill from here. I knew this would be the hardest day of hiking in my life, and I was prepared for that. I sacrificed photography so I could focus on simply making it to the next destination. Though my legs were holding up very well, and my feet were yet to hurt, I was still struggling with the altitude, and my general poor conditioning. I quickly fell behind the main group, but I was not alone. Ami was also having trouble with the climb, and I really appreciated her lagging back with me. Together, we were able to commiserate and offer support for one another, and meet the challenge ahead with someone who was struggling just as much, which was a good thing. We weren't alone, however. Lagging back intentionally to offer support were Tom and Nick. If it weren't for Nick, I might still be out on that trail somewhere, trying to catch my breath. (Come to think of it, that wouldn't be such a bad thing...). Nick could've easily kept up with the others, but he was concerned for those of us that were struggling and stayed back to make sure that we stayed supplied with rehydration tablets, bug repellent and sunscreen. Bugs were a big problem during this portion of the trip. We had to constantly reapply repellent to avoid being eaten alive by these tiny mosquitoes that swarmed around us. Thanks to Danielle, I have a few shots to post from during that toughest part of our hike. Here, John and Kirk make their ascent:
You can see the tail portion of the previous day's trail across the valley in the background. Of course, we'd have to go back up that, but that would be another day...
Up we go...
And up and up....
Cesar had estimated that we would arrive at our lunch spot by 11am. I, frankly, didn't believe him. I told him, "all of us may not arrive by that time", but sure enough, at about 11:05 am, I arrived at the lunch spot. Strangely, the last hour of the climb, which was the most difficult, became easier and easier for me. I don't know if I hit my second wind, or if it was just some combination of the rehydration tablet from Nick, the Ibuprofen I took, plus the Coke I drank (I needed sugar on this day). But, I found a pace, and a breathing rhythm that seemed to combine and allow me to go 2-3 times as far before resting, and to rest for far less time than I had previously. The one downside of this is that I left my unofficial hiking partner, Ami, far behind. I felt kind of bad about it, but I was eager to see what I was capable of, and to improve upon it, and I did. At our stop, we had another fantastic meal. The cooks on this hike were amazing. It was the best I've ever eaten over any 5 day period of my life. I can't say enough about the job they did. Every meal was worth looking forward to. At our lunch stop, we had our first real good look at the lost city of Choquequirao. Here's a shot where you can see the trail ahead of us, which is the line in the ridge in the middle of the photo. If you follow the line from right to left, it points straight at a dip in the ridge behind it. That's the city. Can you see it?
Ok, if you can't make it out above, here's a shot from the same spot, zoomed in.
Amazing how these Inca cities just seem to grow right out of the mountainside.
From here, it was a short, mostly level (with small ups and downs) hike to our final destination. I was able to keep up with the main group from this point on, although at one point, due to the fact that some of the group started loudly singing, a portion of the group decided to sprint the remaining hundred yards or so to the campsite, wanting nothing to do with the noise. And what a campsite. If I'm not mistaken, we were camping right on actual Inca terraces, down below the main city. I could've stayed at this campsite for weeks, but 2 nights would have to do.
Here's the view from my tent, out into the valley.
We had the option of viewing a lower portion of the ruins (lower, even, than our campsite) but everyone was too tired to even think about more walking. I was up for it, mentally, and would've toughed it out physically if it had happened, but it didn't. So we settled in for the night, and began to take stock of our mosquito bites, blisters, sunburns, and general soreness. We'd have a day without hiking tomorrow, which would be good for our recovery. Most of us decided to brave the showers at the campsite, which I swear were actually below freezing. Laughter erupted from the entire camp when the first to brave the showers were heard screaming when the water hit them. When my turn came, I gritted my teeth and washed one body part at a time under the icy torrent, being careful to remove my parts before I lost all feeling in them. Even Cesar, our experienced, local guide, screamed like a little girl when the water hit him. All in all, spirits were very high with everyone, after accomplishing what we'd done that day, and knowing that the worst was over, and the best was yet to come. It was impossible not to notice the stars again that night. But I had to tear myself away from them to get some sleep at some point. Besides, while it had been close to 80 degrees when we were sleeping at Chikisca the night before, it rapidly dropped into the 40's here, some kilometer and a half higher up. After baking in the heat of Southern California for the past few months, it was a delightful change to put on long johns and bundle up in a sleeping bag. I wish I were there right now.
Next installment: The Lost City of Choquequirao
