Day 1
Even parties in the 80’s apparently die down. I think I managed to get an hour or two of sleep. I think I was one of the lucky ones in my room. We grudgingly got up slowly. The thought of climbing a mountain sat on our tired consciousnesses like an unwelcome possum on a porch.
5 a.m. and Cusco is quite awake. We waited outside our hostel for our chariot. Our guide showed up on foot. We had to walk up the hill to our ride. Above a smiling man stood proudly next to his Hyundai mini van. Mario was his name. And it wasn’t just a clever one. He drove like a Mario. We piled into the van with our guide Felix and our cook Herbert and Mario roared off through Cusco.
We hit the countryside at full speed. I couldn’t sleep even though I was exhausted. One, the roads were winding their ways around the mountain. Two, Mario was putting that Korean engine to full use. And three, it was too beautiful to take you eyes off of it. My mind was sleepy but my senses were wide awake. I’ve been to many mountain ranges around the world. They all seem to have their own character. The Andes were no different - sheer and dramatic yet emerald green. We were there during the rainy season, which helped, but I imagine they are just as impressive in the winter.
The Incans took full advantage of terracing for agriculture. The arable land in Peru stands at 2.88%. So the present farmers have not given up on clinging their crops to the side of mountains. Quite a sight to see.
Four hours of white knuckle turns in and out of valleys and a few stops for fuel and herds of sheep and we arrived at our destination, Cachora. This was the closest town to our destination of Choquiquerao. No roads full of buses carrying Japanese tourists here. Cachora hasn’t lost its soul yet. This is where the road ends and adventure begins… at least for a few gringos.
Before heading out, our cook Herbert proved his initial culinary skill by whipping up some trout. Herbert would eventually hold a special place in my heart. Full on fish and rice and high on altitude and excitement we set out. We would leave without Herbert and his 15-year-old helper kid, Santiago. They would catch up.
50 yards into the trek my bag zipper came undone and the contents spilled out. Children giggled uncontrollably. The crowd went wild.
Heading out of town we filed through farm fields filled with corn and agave plants past a group of men who were getting ready to attack the field with their shovel-like hoes to till the earth. Our guide, Felix, knew a couple of them. While exchanging greetings and chatting a man carrying a gas can and a tin coffee cup offered something in Spanish. I thought he was offering water to us. I passed. Felix didn’t. A milky brown substance poured from the gas can. Felix eagerly took it down. I’m not going to let Felix show me up. I asked for a cup. Felix told me to drink just a little out of concern for my stomach. The drink was Chicha, the local moonshine made from fermented corn. It tasted like neither whiskey nor corn. Bitter, but not terrible. Wouldn’t want it at ever Sunday dinner table but it wasn’t bad. We passed the cup around sampling the drink. Heading Felix’s advice we didn’t drink too much.
Some folks bungee jump. I drink Chicha out of an old tin cup.
Our walk quickly took us passed some amazing vistas. It wasn’t a hard hike. We passed several locals walking along with or riding their burros. Once again, everyone was pleasant as we passed. I’ve traveled a lot and have never felt the overwhelming acceptance of a people. Not a cold stare to be found. Maybe they were smiling because of what laid ahead of these silly white people amused them.
We walked passed cows lying in the path and could hear a Peruvian flute playing in the distance. Gnarley. Felix says they play music while working the fields. These kids know how to party.
Cachora and the surrounding area sits at about 2,800 meters. For every city on top of the world, there is a valley near by. We discovered it soon. As we ‘oohed’ and ‘aahhed’ at our surroundings, our descent into the valley began. A few hours later my senses were no less impressed but my knees were pissed. A nagging thought hung in my mind. We were going to be coming back the same way we went. Super.
My knees were rubber as we walked into our campsite a tropical looking bluff. An area run by a family with thatch roof huts and a little stand where they sold sodas and beer brought in my mule. Warm beer tastes extremely good in certain situations. Behind us, beyond the valley and river that we would cross sat the mountain we would climb tomorrow. The switchbacks smiled at us. No turning back now kids.
A couple hours into the hike, the boys and Sarah decided to strip down to shorts. A decision they would live to regret. Matas Blancas. Little white flies. With teeth. Their pasty white legs fell victim quickly. As they nursed their bites, I praised god I hadn’t packed shorts in my day pack. As well, Josh fell into a cactus during the walk. He got most of the burs out but one was deep. I used some pliers to try and dig it out but it was too deep. His love of nature left him little by little with each grunt as I dug into his shin.
Herbert cooked some dope shit. We fell asleep.
Day 2
The pitter patter of rain on my tent woke me up. I had to pee. I put on my flip flops, donned my headlamp given to me by my students (which turned out to be extremely handy by the way) and stepped outside the tent. A mere drizzle. It was about 5:30 a.m. and I could see the mountain we would climb ahead of me in the mist. Went to the hole in the ground and got back inside to prep for the day. I have an iPod nano and a small set of travel speakers. I made it a point to download the Indiana Jones theme song before I left. It’s never too early to be a smart ass. I stepped out of my tent, rested the speakers against Josh and Sean’s tent and hit play. Sufficiently amused with myself I stepped back into my tent. The rain began to pick up while we were getting ready. I still had music on when someone rustled the tent. I figured it was Felix letting us know to get up and paid it no mind. The rain picked up and the tent rustled again a couple minutes later. I poked my head out to see. Santigo sat out in the rain holding cups, a plate full of tea bags and coca leave and a pot of boiling water. Poor little fella. My heart sank as I took a cup of tea. Speak up dude!
Herbert cooked some dope shit. We left.
The rain cooled us as we descended the rest of the way down the valley. Much of the trail turned into an impromptu waterfall. We could hear the river roar below. The bottom came soon enough where we passed a checkpoint and site built by the government in the hopes of attracting more tourists. The highlight of the checkpoint, toilets! A couple on the team took advantage. We wandered down to the suspension bridge. Solid enough, but wobbly. The river roared brown below us. It was the rainy season and was alive in a way I have never seen a river.
The river was pretty, but 1,500 meters of mountain taunted us. Not much can be said about walking up hill for about 4 hours. We passed a couple of one-family towns. Some selling sodas. Took plenty of breaks. The misty morning was a sweet reprieve from the sun which would have surely tormented us had it the chance. Panting a few hours later, Sarah, Felix and I reached a summit. Felix’s high five signaled to me that it was the end. We rounded a rocky corner and a farmland of sorts stretched before us. We walked for 5 minutes to our next site – similar to the last but on top of the world. Chickens of all sorts greeted us. Soul chickens with their afros. Super chickens with capes sewn into their backs. (They were to keep eagles from swooping up the smaller ones) After dropping our bags, Sarah and I walked back to the pinnacle to greet Sean and Josh as they got to the top. I don’t think they were quite expecting the intense climb and their legs started bugging them. Sean with a bum knee which would quickly turn into two bum knees and Josh started developing an aching foot. We soaked in the view and the vistas peaked through the clouds. I yelled for Josh letting him know he was almost to the top. A common theme song of the trip was Europe’s final countdown. Peruvians for acres around wondered what the noise was emitting from the top of the mountain as a yelled out the signature cut.
Josh would tell me later that he thought a puma was stalking him. His pocketknife in one hand and his walking stick in the other, he trekked through the jungle and eventually reached us at the top. To his relief it was over and it was still early in the afternoon.
Herbert cooked some dope shit. We relaxed.
The boys took a nap and Sarah and I took in the view for a while. I watched the local family tend to their chores feeding the chickens. At one point the mother went into a shed and left the door open. Inside, fuzzy little creatures could be seen walking around. Guinea pigs, or cuy, are a staple in the Peruvian diet. I just thought they were cute. I explained to Felix that in the states many people keep Guinea pigs as pets. Felix responded saying he would be at the pet store every Sunday.
Not satisfied with sitting around on the top of the Andes, Sarah and I decided to go for a walk a little farther down the trail. Rounding a bend about a half hour from where we were staying, terraces in the distance hung from the side of the mountain. Climbing up and down a couple mountains makes you appreciate the destination more. It was a welcome site to see some of the ruins Choquiquerao.
The Incans likedx to build many of their cities on top of mountains for several reasons. Militarily, they were defensible. They were secluded. The Incans and many of the present day Peruvians worshipped many of the larger mountains or Apus. And it was closer to the sun. Well, when you live on top of a mountain, it’s a challenge to get food from the valley. So you build terraces.
Quite the sight for a couple weary travelers. We took in the view, snapped a few pictures and headed back. Herbert had tea waiting. As I drank my tea I watched a group of burro drivers huddle around a few beers bought in the hut. I hoped they wouldn’t drink them all.
Herbert cooked some dope shit. We went to sleep.
In Cusco hostels, they have 80’s parties. In little towns on top of the Andes they have annoying little son of a bitch dogs that bark all night and roosters that crow way too early.
NEXT TIME – Will our gringo travelers make it to the ruins? Will the caped chickens arrive in time to save the day? Will Josh disappear into the jungle? Stay tuned kids!
Even parties in the 80’s apparently die down. I think I managed to get an hour or two of sleep. I think I was one of the lucky ones in my room. We grudgingly got up slowly. The thought of climbing a mountain sat on our tired consciousnesses like an unwelcome possum on a porch.
5 a.m. and Cusco is quite awake. We waited outside our hostel for our chariot. Our guide showed up on foot. We had to walk up the hill to our ride. Above a smiling man stood proudly next to his Hyundai mini van. Mario was his name. And it wasn’t just a clever one. He drove like a Mario. We piled into the van with our guide Felix and our cook Herbert and Mario roared off through Cusco.
We hit the countryside at full speed. I couldn’t sleep even though I was exhausted. One, the roads were winding their ways around the mountain. Two, Mario was putting that Korean engine to full use. And three, it was too beautiful to take you eyes off of it. My mind was sleepy but my senses were wide awake. I’ve been to many mountain ranges around the world. They all seem to have their own character. The Andes were no different - sheer and dramatic yet emerald green. We were there during the rainy season, which helped, but I imagine they are just as impressive in the winter.
The Incans took full advantage of terracing for agriculture. The arable land in Peru stands at 2.88%. So the present farmers have not given up on clinging their crops to the side of mountains. Quite a sight to see.
Four hours of white knuckle turns in and out of valleys and a few stops for fuel and herds of sheep and we arrived at our destination, Cachora. This was the closest town to our destination of Choquiquerao. No roads full of buses carrying Japanese tourists here. Cachora hasn’t lost its soul yet. This is where the road ends and adventure begins… at least for a few gringos.
Before heading out, our cook Herbert proved his initial culinary skill by whipping up some trout. Herbert would eventually hold a special place in my heart. Full on fish and rice and high on altitude and excitement we set out. We would leave without Herbert and his 15-year-old helper kid, Santiago. They would catch up.
50 yards into the trek my bag zipper came undone and the contents spilled out. Children giggled uncontrollably. The crowd went wild.
Heading out of town we filed through farm fields filled with corn and agave plants past a group of men who were getting ready to attack the field with their shovel-like hoes to till the earth. Our guide, Felix, knew a couple of them. While exchanging greetings and chatting a man carrying a gas can and a tin coffee cup offered something in Spanish. I thought he was offering water to us. I passed. Felix didn’t. A milky brown substance poured from the gas can. Felix eagerly took it down. I’m not going to let Felix show me up. I asked for a cup. Felix told me to drink just a little out of concern for my stomach. The drink was Chicha, the local moonshine made from fermented corn. It tasted like neither whiskey nor corn. Bitter, but not terrible. Wouldn’t want it at ever Sunday dinner table but it wasn’t bad. We passed the cup around sampling the drink. Heading Felix’s advice we didn’t drink too much.
Some folks bungee jump. I drink Chicha out of an old tin cup.
Our walk quickly took us passed some amazing vistas. It wasn’t a hard hike. We passed several locals walking along with or riding their burros. Once again, everyone was pleasant as we passed. I’ve traveled a lot and have never felt the overwhelming acceptance of a people. Not a cold stare to be found. Maybe they were smiling because of what laid ahead of these silly white people amused them.
We walked passed cows lying in the path and could hear a Peruvian flute playing in the distance. Gnarley. Felix says they play music while working the fields. These kids know how to party.
Cachora and the surrounding area sits at about 2,800 meters. For every city on top of the world, there is a valley near by. We discovered it soon. As we ‘oohed’ and ‘aahhed’ at our surroundings, our descent into the valley began. A few hours later my senses were no less impressed but my knees were pissed. A nagging thought hung in my mind. We were going to be coming back the same way we went. Super.
My knees were rubber as we walked into our campsite a tropical looking bluff. An area run by a family with thatch roof huts and a little stand where they sold sodas and beer brought in my mule. Warm beer tastes extremely good in certain situations. Behind us, beyond the valley and river that we would cross sat the mountain we would climb tomorrow. The switchbacks smiled at us. No turning back now kids.
A couple hours into the hike, the boys and Sarah decided to strip down to shorts. A decision they would live to regret. Matas Blancas. Little white flies. With teeth. Their pasty white legs fell victim quickly. As they nursed their bites, I praised god I hadn’t packed shorts in my day pack. As well, Josh fell into a cactus during the walk. He got most of the burs out but one was deep. I used some pliers to try and dig it out but it was too deep. His love of nature left him little by little with each grunt as I dug into his shin.
Herbert cooked some dope shit. We fell asleep.
Day 2
The pitter patter of rain on my tent woke me up. I had to pee. I put on my flip flops, donned my headlamp given to me by my students (which turned out to be extremely handy by the way) and stepped outside the tent. A mere drizzle. It was about 5:30 a.m. and I could see the mountain we would climb ahead of me in the mist. Went to the hole in the ground and got back inside to prep for the day. I have an iPod nano and a small set of travel speakers. I made it a point to download the Indiana Jones theme song before I left. It’s never too early to be a smart ass. I stepped out of my tent, rested the speakers against Josh and Sean’s tent and hit play. Sufficiently amused with myself I stepped back into my tent. The rain began to pick up while we were getting ready. I still had music on when someone rustled the tent. I figured it was Felix letting us know to get up and paid it no mind. The rain picked up and the tent rustled again a couple minutes later. I poked my head out to see. Santigo sat out in the rain holding cups, a plate full of tea bags and coca leave and a pot of boiling water. Poor little fella. My heart sank as I took a cup of tea. Speak up dude!
Herbert cooked some dope shit. We left.
The rain cooled us as we descended the rest of the way down the valley. Much of the trail turned into an impromptu waterfall. We could hear the river roar below. The bottom came soon enough where we passed a checkpoint and site built by the government in the hopes of attracting more tourists. The highlight of the checkpoint, toilets! A couple on the team took advantage. We wandered down to the suspension bridge. Solid enough, but wobbly. The river roared brown below us. It was the rainy season and was alive in a way I have never seen a river.
The river was pretty, but 1,500 meters of mountain taunted us. Not much can be said about walking up hill for about 4 hours. We passed a couple of one-family towns. Some selling sodas. Took plenty of breaks. The misty morning was a sweet reprieve from the sun which would have surely tormented us had it the chance. Panting a few hours later, Sarah, Felix and I reached a summit. Felix’s high five signaled to me that it was the end. We rounded a rocky corner and a farmland of sorts stretched before us. We walked for 5 minutes to our next site – similar to the last but on top of the world. Chickens of all sorts greeted us. Soul chickens with their afros. Super chickens with capes sewn into their backs. (They were to keep eagles from swooping up the smaller ones) After dropping our bags, Sarah and I walked back to the pinnacle to greet Sean and Josh as they got to the top. I don’t think they were quite expecting the intense climb and their legs started bugging them. Sean with a bum knee which would quickly turn into two bum knees and Josh started developing an aching foot. We soaked in the view and the vistas peaked through the clouds. I yelled for Josh letting him know he was almost to the top. A common theme song of the trip was Europe’s final countdown. Peruvians for acres around wondered what the noise was emitting from the top of the mountain as a yelled out the signature cut.
Josh would tell me later that he thought a puma was stalking him. His pocketknife in one hand and his walking stick in the other, he trekked through the jungle and eventually reached us at the top. To his relief it was over and it was still early in the afternoon.
Herbert cooked some dope shit. We relaxed.
The boys took a nap and Sarah and I took in the view for a while. I watched the local family tend to their chores feeding the chickens. At one point the mother went into a shed and left the door open. Inside, fuzzy little creatures could be seen walking around. Guinea pigs, or cuy, are a staple in the Peruvian diet. I just thought they were cute. I explained to Felix that in the states many people keep Guinea pigs as pets. Felix responded saying he would be at the pet store every Sunday.
Not satisfied with sitting around on the top of the Andes, Sarah and I decided to go for a walk a little farther down the trail. Rounding a bend about a half hour from where we were staying, terraces in the distance hung from the side of the mountain. Climbing up and down a couple mountains makes you appreciate the destination more. It was a welcome site to see some of the ruins Choquiquerao.
The Incans likedx to build many of their cities on top of mountains for several reasons. Militarily, they were defensible. They were secluded. The Incans and many of the present day Peruvians worshipped many of the larger mountains or Apus. And it was closer to the sun. Well, when you live on top of a mountain, it’s a challenge to get food from the valley. So you build terraces.
Quite the sight for a couple weary travelers. We took in the view, snapped a few pictures and headed back. Herbert had tea waiting. As I drank my tea I watched a group of burro drivers huddle around a few beers bought in the hut. I hoped they wouldn’t drink them all.
Herbert cooked some dope shit. We went to sleep.
In Cusco hostels, they have 80’s parties. In little towns on top of the Andes they have annoying little son of a bitch dogs that bark all night and roosters that crow way too early.
NEXT TIME – Will our gringo travelers make it to the ruins? Will the caped chickens arrive in time to save the day? Will Josh disappear into the jungle? Stay tuned kids!
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