Cusco e la Valle Sacra

Ultima tappa in Peru’: la tanto temuta Cusco. Temuta perche’ tutto il turismo sud americano sembra concentrarsi in questa citta’ data la vicinanza a Macchupicchu.
Ebbene con tutte le riserve di questo mondo siamo arrivati in questa citta’ che ci ha benvenuto con la sua architettura coloniale, i suoi vicoletti, i suoi innumerevoli centri artigianali ed artistici, e la sua internazionalita’.

In faccia a cio’ i nostri pregiudizi si sono volatilizzati e ci siamo buttati in pieno nel gustare tutto cio’ che Cusco ha da offrire………a parte Macchupicchu naturalmente, una vera Walt Disney turistica che preferiamo immaginarla come un luogo mistico e spirituale….impresso nelle nostre menti come nelle foto migliori di esso….

Abbiamo invece optato per del trekking nella valle Urubamba ed al ritorno da questa abbiamo subito preso parte ad una visita nei canyon del fiume Apurimac di tre giorni. Tre giorni di rafting e due notti campeggiati sulla riva del fiume.

Il trekking era da Lares a Ollantaytambo una distanza fattibile in 3 giorni quindi equipaggiati di tenda, sacco a pelo e cibo siamo partiti indipendentemente ed essendo questa una valle popolata di pastori di lama ed alpaca le mulattiere erano molto visibili.

Si sa che i campesino parlano quechua ma cio’ che non mi aspettavo e’ che nei villaggi si parla SOLO quechua. La prima notte abbiamo campeggiato nel villaggio di Huacahuasi dove siamo stati benvenuti da bambini timidi indenni al freddo ed adulti molto ospitali ma anche dignitosi. Non ci e’ stato possibile comunicare con loro tutti anche se a me sarebbe piaciuto far sapere ad alcune ragazze di quanto il loro lavoro tessile fosse bello e scambiare qualche chiacchera ma ho scoperto che sorridere e gesticolare talvolte e abbastanza per farsi capire.

Al tramonto aravamo solo noi nella nostra tenda circondati da maialini chiassosi e cani curiosi.

Il giorno dopo appena messo lo zaino in spalla potevo subito sentire il peso portato il giorno prima che sembro’ lasciare segni non sulla mia pelle ma nelle mie ossa……….. perche’, perche’ non ci siamo affittati un bell asino? Perche’ Ben??? Continuavo a chiedermi cio’ sopratutto perche’ andavamo sopra il primo passo di 4.500 Mt, Ipsayccasa, un’ arrampicata sofferta ma spettacolare.

Questo punto offre le viste spettacolari del ghiacciaio Veronica (5,750m) che ci circonda . Iniziamo la discesa a Ipsaycocha o “alla laguna„ Ipsay mentre ci siamo addentrati nel cuore del mondo “l quechua„, conosciuto come anche come “i huayruros„ in queste località.

 

La discesa era gentile e ed ha fatto si che arrivammo alla nostra meta, Patacancha, nel primo pomeriggio. Devo aggiungere che era di Domenica e nel raggiungere il villaggio bambini eccitati si dirigevano verso il mercato settimanale con le loro famiglie e nel dirigersi verso quest’evento settimanale ci informavano e ci incitavano nell’andare al medesimo mercato……ma cosa ci sara’ di cosi’ speciale in un mercato, ci siamo chiesti?!

 

Abbiamo capito di essere quasi arrivati al famoso mercato quando siamo stati investiti dai colori forti e vivavai dei costumi del luogo che tutti, ma proprio tutti, naturalmente indossano in occasione del mercato domenicale. La comunita’ di Patacancha e’ conosciuta per i suoi tessuti e filati.

 

Una volta messi giu’ gli zaiini anche noi abbiamo preso parte a questa ” festa” mangiando e bevendo anche se la maggiorparte delle persone era solo impiegata col bere! Da nonne a giovani uomini, tutti a bere la birra degli Inca, prodotta dal mais, la Chicha. Abbastanza piacevole soprattutto con l’aggiunta di un po’ di succo fresco di “sauco”, sambuco.

 

Dopo un paio d’ore la massa era per la maggioranza piacevolmente ubriaca mentre noi parlavamo con l’unico commerciante che poteva comunicare in spagnolo e contrattammo un passaggio nella sua cammionetta per arrivare ad Ollantaytambo, evitando cosi’ una notte in tenda ed un’ altra giornata portando lo zaino in spalla (mai piu!).

Quando il commerciante era soddifatto con le vendite siamo saliti a bordo e lungo la strada la camionetta si fermava regolarmente per far salire altre persone fino a quando straripava di gente!

 

 

Siamo arrivati ad Ollantaytambo e subito abbiamo capito in che posto arrivammo avendo incrociato diversi Bus turistici pieni di giapponesi ed americani.

 

Ollantaytambo non solo e’ una delle cittadine meglio preservate ed ancora tutta costruita sulle fondamenta originale Inca ma e’ un villaggio incluso nell’” inca Trail” quindi tutti quelli diretti a Macchu Picchu passano da Ollantaytambo.

 

Al mattino dopo una dovuta visita al tempio del sole e alle terrazze inca salimmo sul primo combi per tornare a Cusco. Una passegiata per una valle cosi’ remota e tranquilla in 2 giorni si puo’ trasformare in un circo per anziani tedeschi………….

 

 

Huayhuash Trek

We finally decided we were ready for a serious high altitude trek. We chose the demanding Huayhuash circuit: 9 days and 8 passes between 4600 and 5100 meters, and we wanted to do it without a guide. Possibly a foolish idea, but we felt the paths had been so clear on our other treks that a guide was unnecessary. We would plan and buy all of the food ourselves and our mule driver (we didn´t even contemplate trying to carry 9 days food), who would hopefully come looking for us if we didn´t turn up at the campsite at the end of a day´s hiking.

The photo above is the view that greeted us each morning as we woke up. The sun would be dashing down the mountains towards us, as we clambered out of the tent wearing all of the clothes we had brought with us. Eagerly anticipating the heat of the day, I would begin pumping away manically at the battered old benzene stove we had hired and praying that my fingers wouldn´t stick to the metal. I would break the ice on top of the pot of water we had collected the night before (often an inch thick) and before you knew it we would be able to drink hot coca tea; sifting the leaves out with our teeth, warming our hands and watching the sun getting ever closer.

At high altitudes when the sun goes down cold takes on a whole new meaning. It is a cold that bites right through to your bones. After the first day we found ourselves getting into the tent at six thirty in the evening straight after the sun had set and only getting out the next morning. In the photo above you can just see the ice on the top of the tent, in reality the tent would be completely covered in ice, inside and out. As we took the tent apart each morning we would shake the outer and a beautiful storm of enourmous flakes of ice would appear in front of us catching the sun. These were not ideal conditions for our lightweight sleeping bags, only meant to be used above freezing, but we zipped them together to share body heat and ended up wearing all of our clothes inside of them – Erika was even wearing her waterproofs at night!

Our first days hiking was a lesson in just how unforgiving these mountains can be. As we left Huaraz at 5 in the morning on a bus we saw two other tourists and a guide stood on the pavement watching our bus leave. We assumed that they were headed elsewhere, but when we had to change buses three hours into the journey they appeared in a taxi looking very pissed off with their guide. As we climbed into the mountains along precipitous hairpin bends we struck up a conversation with a Peruvian carrying a karrimor bag who, of course, turned out to be a guide. As we discussed our plans with him and he explained difficult parts of the route to us we discovered his name was Messner, a peculiarly German name. When we asked him why, we were told it was because Siula Grande, the most technical mountain in the Cordillera Huayhuash, has a very famous route first climbed by Reinhold Messner and later made famous by Joe Simpson in “Touching the Void”. Just how serious these mountains were was becoming rapidly clearer.

As we wound our way into the mountains the other tourists also began to explain their plans: they wanted to do the whole circuit in six days as they were devout Jews who didn´t want to be in the mountains on the sabbath. Messner immediately turned to their guide and told him in no uncertain terms that he was insane. When their guide saw that we had a map he asked to borrow it and began studying it intently as if he had never seen a map of the area before. As we got off the bus at Llamac and met up with Oligario: the man who would organise our mule driver, the Israeli´s guide also got off the bus and asked if there was anyone in the village who would carry their gear around the circuit in six days and were told that no one would attempt it.

Oligario told us that he would travel with us for two days until we got to the village where our mule driver lived. We loaded up the mule and set off into the mountains, Oligario streaking off into the distance ahead of us. It was a nice gentle afternoon walking up a valley in the sunshine towards our first pass which would come the next morning. We arrived at the flat patch of ground that was to be our campsite, unpacked the mule and began to cook dinner. A little while later the Israelis arrived with a mule driver they had convinced to attempt the circuit in six days, they had failed to bring any food for him and were to pay him extra instead. Their guide arrived with one bare foot, apparently he had fallen in a stream and needed to wait for his boot to dry. The Israelis soon came over to ask us if we had a map and if they could copy it! I was stunned as they explained that they had no map nor had their guide ever walked the route before. They proceeded to take a biro and a piece of paper and sketch out the map as best they could. Their guide soon wandered over, still with only one shoe, and asked if we had any tent pegs he could borrow – he hadn´t brought any!

When we woke the next morning we saw a group of peruvians near us with no tent. We asked Oligario about them and he told us that they had indeed slept without a tent or sleeping bags. We had been freezing all night with both tent and sleeping bags, waking up periodically to pull on more clothes and try to get warm. As we got our stove lit we called them over. It was two boys of about 16 and 10 without even a warm jacket between them. They were clearly frozen, jiggling around in the hope it would stop them shivering, both with their hands stuffed down the front of their trousers. I can only imagine how much it must have hurt as the blood returned to their hands and feet. They told us they were there with their animals and had not had anything to eat the night before, we shared our tea and porridge with them and wondered how they had got away without hypothermia. We all watched the Israelis getting up and praying before packing everything up and getting ready to leave. They didn´t seem to have eaten any breakfast, indeed Oligario told us this was a part of their religion, and we watched with amusement as they told their guide he was not needed anymore and he wandered dejectedly back down the valley. We set off on the climb up to the first pass struggling to get enough oxygen from the thin air.

As we made it to the top of the pass we were rewarded with our first clear view of the mountain range that we would spend the next eight days hiking around. These magnificent snow covered peaks were razor sharp and towering above us. Our descent would take us directly towards them and we set off eagerly into a valley so lush that I don´t believe I had ever seen a vista containing so many different shades of green. We were brought up short by the first of the graves that would be scattered along the route, this one was for a 23 year old Pole who had tried to climb Paria, the peak directly above us, 10 years before. Oligario told us he had made it to the peak but had started suffering altitude sickness. He was carried back down to the path but died as they got ready to continue descending. This peak was only 5027 meters, lower than the highest pass we would have to cross.

At the end of the descent we came to the first glacial lake and Janca, the scattered group of huts where our mule driver lived. As we were introduced to Edmundo, and Oligario prepared to leave us, we began to feel nervous. Edmundo clearly was a real man of the mountains and did not seem to be sizing us up very favourably. His spanish was also considerably worse than mine and he looked like the kind of person I wouldn´t trust further than I could throw him. He ran off to get his mule and came back with a beautiful pony. He wanted to take Lucero (Lightening in english) rather than a mule. He then got his saddle and began tying it onto Lucero. I could hardly believe he was going to use the saddle. It had a wooden frame that had broken and then been repaired with little bits of wood, sheets of metal and patches of leather so many times that its original shape was hard to make out. As he prepared to put all of our gear on top of Frankenstein´s saddle I wondered how it would ever make it around the circuit without splitting apart at one of the many repairs. Below is a picture of Lucero and Edmundo with the saddle in the foreground.

We soon arrived at our second Glacial lake and as we put up our tents and got dinner cooking we kept having to stop to gaze at the sheer wall at the back of the lake rising directly into the mountains behind. As the sun began to set the peaks cast the razor sharp shadows through the clouds that you can see below, the mountain tops piercing the clouds and rising far above. The beauty of this place made us feel truly elated as we realised what lay in store for us over the coming days. In the photo below the mountain on the left is Siula Grande and the one in the center is Yerupaja rising to 6617 meters (above you can see the same view as the sun rose first thing the next morning).

The next morning we came across a second group of Israeli trekkers: eight people with five guides, mule drivers, cooks and three emergency horses. The emergency horses are in case anyone suffers a serious problem, you can then sit on the back of the horse until you get to the nearest road, but there were people sat on the back of all three horses. As we walked through the group none of the tourists would even offer us the time of day, but the guides were an altogether friendlier bunch. They told us that the tourists were on the horses because one had a bad stomach, one was suffering from altitude sickness and the other was too tired to continue, even though we were only a couple of hours into that days hiking. We were delighted to discover that the head guide, Edgar, was the father of Messner, who we had chatted to on the bus, and he told us about a view point away from the main path that we should climb up to. Below you can see Edgar and I at the view point he told us about.

Behind us you can see the glacial lake, Siula, and the icebergs that drop into it from the glacier above. Edgar told us that he could remember when he had first come here almost 30 years before. At that time this glacial lake did not exist because the glacier far above us then came down to the morraine that you can see as a ridge at the back of the lake. The glacier had retreated several kilometers in just a quarter of a century. Actually seeing the results of global warming in front of you was a sobering experience and we said very little for some time.

As we made our way back to the path I was amazed to see the 3 people riding horses all smoking cigarettes. No wonder they couldn´t walk. As we struggled up towards our first really serious pass we were rewarded by the amazing view of a glacier you can see below. As we walked along we could hear enourmous thunder claps as the ice was forced downhill by the pressure of the ice above. Glaciers are rivers of solid ice so they do not flow like a liquid. Rather the pressure of millions of tons of ice and snow builds until the ice below shears, making unbelievable crashes and sending showers of ice far into the air and down the mountainside.

Once we had made it to the pass we began our descent, but were soon to realise that we had lost the path and were descending into the boggy area you can see below. The valley floor ahead of us was a series of basins filled with broken lakes and islands. As we approached one of the lakes we found that the plants covering the ground and forming itself into islands was actually rock hard. Before we knew it we found ourselves jumping from island to island and able to cross even the largest of the lakes rather than have to walk around.

We found the path again and that night arrived in Huayhuash, a valley as close to climbing heaven as anywhere I have been. I was delighted that I had brought my climbing shoes and started clambering around on some of the boulders right in the middle of the campsite. As we hiked up the valley the next day I realised that the boulder field covering the broad floor of the gorge was at least five kilometers long. There were also big walls on either side of the gorge stretching up for hundreds of meters, each being completely different in character. On the left was a wall split into flutes and gables by enormous vertical breaks looking like giant stalagmites and on the right was a wall split by colossal horizontal breaks. As I marvelled at the rock around me I vowed that at some point I would return.

The night after Huayhuash we found ourselves camping in a valley unlike any other we would encounter. The Pumarinri valley looked otherworldly from the moment we set eyes on it. It was full of rocks the turquoise colour of malachite and strange clumps of cactus growing low to the ground and covered by what appeared to be large balls of cotton wool. as we descended further into the valley we realised what had caused these strange surroundings. We began to see pools similar to those on the floor of other valleys, only here they were steaming. The valley was so active geothermally that there were literally hundreds of pools of hot water scattered across the ground in front of us. The cactus can grow here because the ground is heated, as long as they stay close to it they would never experience frost no matter how cold the air above them. That night we camped by a large concrete pool that had been built into the floor of the valley. We pushed a sod of earth into the hole in one of the bottom corners and then directed the overflow from one of the steaming ponds into our concrete box. Once it was full we clambered in and were surprised to find the water so hot we had to get in very slowly. Once the water was up to our necks we were not leaving, we stayed there until our skin became so wrinkled we wondered if it would start peeling off. It was such a change from our normal method of washing we felt like royalty. For the five preceding days we had only had glacial streams to wash in, the air being so cold as well, we would only wash one half of our bodies at a time, keeping the rest of our clothes on in a desparate attempt to stay warm. The photo below is me washing myself whilst keeping all four layers of clothing on.

After Pumarinri we climbed to the highest pass so far. From 4950 meters the views of the mountains were breathtaking but it was the glacier directly in front of us that really made an impression. The form of the ice with a covering of snow was a strange combination of a solid and a liquid form. Full of motion but simultaneously hanging in space as if frozen at one particular moment. The beauty of the colours failed to be captured by my camera; where there were crevasses in the ice allowing us to see far into the glacier the colour was not the white of the surface but a delicate blue green that appeared to glow, as if it was not the ice we were seeing but the light travelling through it.

We knew that the next climb would be the hardest of our whole trek. We descended into a deep valley and camped at a point where we could see the way up to the next pass. This was a pass that was not a part of most people´s treks, anyone who did want to climb to the pass to reach 5100 meters would do so and then return the way they had come. We had decided to climb up to the pass and then descend into the valley on the other side, the guides we had spoken to had described the descent as very difficult but not impossible. Edmundo had told us that he would not risk Lucero on the descent.

As we sat in our campsite looking up at the six hundred meter scree slope that led up to Cerro San Antonio and knowing that the descent was going to be even steeper, doubts began to grow. The next morning we got up early and set out as soon as we could. climbing the scree slope was not as hard as we had feared, but what we had not been able to see from the valley floor was that the upper part of the slope was not scree but dry mud that lay across the slope almost like a light form of gravel. With each step your foot would slip back down the slope practically to the level where you had placed your last foot. We were forced to move slowly by the thinness of the air, but this latest obstacle made the going even harder. As we desparately struggled to get enough oxygen into our lungs and to find a solid foot placement we crawled up to 5100 meters across a moonscape of dried mud and monolithic boulders.

Above is the view that greeted us upon reaching the top. As soon as we saw it we realised that the struggle had been worth every second, there were glaciers and lakes far below us and valleys stretching into the distance in all directions. This landscape was filled with a myriad of colours and dominated by truly awesome snow capped peaks. Directly in front of us we could see the desperately steep and pathless slope that would be our route down. Going down a scree slope is always easier than going up, the sliding of your feet cushions your steps and allows you to move surprisingly fast. We were soon skipping down the mountain and trying to spot the point where we needed to traverse out of the valley we were following to avoid the cliffs lower down.

As we traversed to the left we were able to see the bottom of the valley to our right. This is the view you see above with the three glacial lakes clearly visible as the glacier retreats up the valley behind them. Around Huayhuash there are many examples of glacial lakes grouped together, almost always with strikingly different colours. Here the first is white, the second turquoise and the lowest a dark green. As we continued to descend we spotted a group of four birds climbing up a thermal in the valley far below us. As they circled up towards us we realised how big they were and settled down to watch them. As they climbed closer we were able to see the clear black and white markings of the Andean condor. Watching these birds spiral past us, and seeing just how big a 5 meter wingspan really is, made us feel like dwarves trespassing on someone else´s territory.

We continued walking across the eiree landscapes we had come to expect knowing that our rest day was just around the corner. We had chosen the campsite that was reputed to be the most beautiful on the circuit as the place to relax for a day and as we dropped down to Jahuacocha we were not disappointed. We were greeted by the view you see below. We camped close to an abandoned farmhouse where we were sheltered from the wind and asked some of the campesinos who lived around the shore of the lake if they would be able to fill one of our water bottles with milk and catch some fish for us. The next morning, we woke as someone wandered around the lake towards us carrying a bottle of milk straight from the cow and six trout. After our porridge we got out the half kilo bar of chocolate flavoured with cloves and cinnamon that we had carried for the last week. We proceeded to break it into small pieces and melted it in a litre of boiling water before adding two litres of milk. Since the moment I tasted that magical hot chocolate, “chocolate caliente” has been my hot drink of choice. A day relaxing in such incredible surroundings, exploring the shores of the lake, drinking hot chocolate and eating fresh trout was the perfect end to a trek that I cannot recommend highly enough.

Chachapoyas Trek

Above is a photo taken during a sunday procession in the square of my favourite Peruvian town. Chachapoyas is on the edge of the towering Andes just before the land plunges into the Amazon jungle. It is a remote and lush area where the people are still interested in tourists, keen to talk and fiercely proud.

The markets there are full of the incredible range of produce available in an area where there is plentiful tropical sun and rain as well as a large number of different climates close together due to the variations in altitude. As well as the fruits above, the beans are also amazing including both coffee and cocoa, as well as fava, orca and kinds displaying every colour of the rainbow inbetween. It is an area that has been heavily inhabited for a long time and as you hike through the mountains and the cloud forest you find yourself on the top of a ridge confronted by the ruins of ancient cities that have been overrun by the verdant green that is everywhere.

On one of our first days here we went on a day hike up to the third highest water fall in the world. this walk took us through the cloud forest you can see above. Full of giant palms, enormous ferns and orchids whereever you look. The cloud forest is broken and sparse in places and in the photo below you can see the waterfall we were hiking up to in the background.

As we hiked further up the valley the size of the waterfall gradually became apparent as we glimpsed it through the breaks in the canopy above us.

The volume of water in the fall was not vast, as you imagine some parallel to Niagara, but the height was breath taking. As we approached it we had to hide inside ponchos and plastic sheets. At the back of the valley it was as if you were in the middle of a raging storm, everything soaking wet with fine rain being lashed across us by gusts of wind. Above us the water looked like an avalanche as it poured over the lip and broke up into a falling, billowing cloud of spray. Only returning to the expected form of a river as it struck the rocks around the plunge pool thousands of feet below.

Once we had hiked back down we found a welcome meal waiting for us at the village at the foot of the valley. It was a meal of chicken that had lived such a full free range life that its meat was dark, tough and flavoured more like game than what we know as chicken. The meal was served in the room below where the ever present image of Che Guevara was painted above the door next to a speaker so large it was as if one of his speeches was about to begin booming out at any second, flattening everyone round the table.

We now had a taste for trekking and decided to take a little bit further. We headed up into the cloud forest for four days trekking following ancient trade routes passing a number of abandoned and unexplored hilltop cities and finishing in Kuelap, the greatest of the mountain top fortresses built by the pre conquest civilizations.

We began our trek heading up into the mountains through the forest on paths like the one above. It was just idyllic and we lost ourselves in the vistas that would loom up out of the clouds as we reached the top of each pass.

The unpredictability of the weather only added to the magical atmosphere we found in this world. Cloud forest is a form rainforest and nature made it very clear that this was a wild part of the world. Brilliant sunshine would become raging thunderstorms in just a few minutes and would pass just as quickly. We spent alot of time hiding in Ponchos and waterproofs and pushing to get into the next valley where the weather would be entirely different.

On the second day of the trek we were due to climb nearly two thousand meters and so mules had been hired to make sure we made it up to the pass. The idea was that each of us would sit on the back of a tiny mule, our feet pratically dragging on the ground. The owners of the mules would walk along beside geeing up the animals and making sure they weren’t distracted by the undergrowth for too long with some gentle encouragement involving freshly cut switches on the backs of their legs. As I realised how steeply the path was climbing and descending and the trouble the mule was having with my weight on his back, I rapidly went off the whole idea. Not only that but we were not moving any faster than a normal walking pace and the saddle I was sat on appeared to have been constructed from pieces of wood especially selected not to compliment the human form.

I spent the rest of the day walking alongside and inbetween the mules. Everyone else joined me for shorter or long stints. When the path became particularly treacherous or someone felt particularly sorry for their mule the group of walkers would swell. Much of the path had been worn into a kind of giant mud stepping stones. The mules who transported goods back and forth between the settlements along side the route trod in same spots and had worn mud filled troughs between which were high ridges of mud. In the photo below you can see Erika leading her mule across just such a section of the climb.

On the last day of the trek we came to the most amazing castle I have ever visited. It is a fortress built on the top of a mountain using three times the amount of stone required for the great pyramids of Egypt. It was built without metal tools or the wheel. As it loomed up out of the forest and cloud the sheer size and location blew me away. Surrounded by llamas, covered by the invasive green of the forest with a 360 degree view of some of the highest mountains in the world it could hardly fail to inspire.