The soaring condors mark the beginning of our trip into Colca Canyon near the Peruvian city of Arequipa. We have come here from Cusco to study Spanish and live with a host family for two weeks and enjoy a couple of nature treks in the area. In Andean mythology the condor represents the spirit world, the puma the earth realm and the serpent, the underworld. The condor, a vulture, is thought to lead the soul of the dead to the spirit world and, therefore, is an important part of Andean mythology.
At Cruz del Condor the wind provided a good draft for the large birds even before the morning sun began to fuel the thermals that will carry them effortlessly into the clouds. We were lucky and saw about eight during our brief stop. From here we headed to the pueblo, Cabanaconde, where our 4-day hike began. Our guide is Angel, and small, quiet man with a good, steady hiking pace and a patient nature.
Most of the photos are obvious, but some deserve a brief comment. Plus filling in some of the details gives me an excuse to share some of what we’re experiencing in South America.
The parasitic insects that you see on the cactus are harvested and used in the production of dyes for clothes and pigments for paints. The huts you see are “lodges” were we spent the nights. Rustic to the point of having dirt floors, they were like Hiltons to us because they meant no need to lug tents, food or cooking equipment. The first and last of the four days of hiking ended in a dip in natural hot springs and on our third day, in a cool spring-fed swimming pool. Not bad for “roughing it backpacking.”
Along with some engaging Europeans, John and I were fortunate to hang out with local children who spend their summer break at the lodges with their working parents. The third night, at what’s called “the oasis,” Manual and Maria invited us to soccer, but our playtime quickly turned into pony rides and roughhousing.
I’m still not sure where the energy came from. I guess the joy and friendliness of the children opened our hearts and the energy flowed from there. I let go of concerns about the steep ascent the next morning, an unbroken 3,000-foot climb back to the canyon’s rim. Angel has told us that we would leave at 6 a.m., hike up and catch a bus at the top around 10 to 10:30 a.m. While studying the zigzag trail the day before during part of our descent, I wondered whether I could do the hike in one day, let alone 4 ½ hours. That night I prayed to the good spirits to guide and open me to their guidance and energy. On the morning of the ascent, Angel offered us the only suggestion he would make during the trek. He said it is better to hike slowly with a steady pace rather than to hike for one-hour spurts followed by rest periods. He advised us to keep our bodies warm, not becoming chilled during stops. I’m sure he’d noticed my whizzing from a head cold, but the advice mainly would help in another way.
At 6 a.m., after a light breakfast, we headed off. The slow, steady pace helped focus my attention. If I were going to get on the other side of this hike in four hours, I would need concentration. Slow and steady I was a turtle who rarely paused, steadying my gaze no more than 10 feet ahead. I had no interest in the where I’d been, views of the oasis, or what lay ahead, the next switchback. My attention was on the trail, the hiking poles (my other appendages) and placing one foot in front of another. I saw that the ascent was more about an approach to life and less about Colca Canyon. The hike asked for a concentrated resting in the present moment. Two and a half hours later, with only a few pauses, Angel and I reached the top, with John only a few minutes ahead. I thanked the good spirits for their help, knowing that something beyond my abilities got me up the canyon wall.
After a stop in the hot springs at Chivay we returned to Arequipa for a brief day of rest preparation for a two-day trek to the top of Misti, one of three volcanoes visible from Arequipa. It is an active volcano that tops off at about 18,000 feet. The hike up Misti would prove to be quite challenging as well but in different ways from Colca – rapidly changing weather, rain, snow, wind and biting cold would the tests there.
The climb up Misti began with a rough 45-minute jeep ride to the base of the volcano at about 12,000 feet. Our guide had told us not to pack rain gear; it seldom rains on Misti. The cold is reliable, though, and the tour company provided us with parkas, extra leggings and a tent, as it turned out, one in poor condition.
Just as we got on the trail heading to our base camp at 15,000 feet, a cool, heavy mist moved in. We pitched our tent about two hours later only minutes before the sky opened up to deliver a steady pelting of rain. One of the fly zippers, facing the wind, was broken. I was already chilled and doubted our ability to withstand a cold and wet night. Fortunately, John had brought twine and we used it along with my pocket knife to stitch up the fly. We shared our small damp space with all of our gear, and with boots still laced, crawled into our sleeping bags in an attempt to warm ourselves. Later, when the rain stopped, we crawled out (the other zipper was jammed) to find ourselves above the clouds. The sun was setting first over and then beneath them. The views were a definite reward at the end of a challenging day.
The next morning we left camp at 3 a.m. after a quick breakfast and the gathering of our gear. Well before daybreak we were hiking in snow. At that altitude the air was thin and the hiking a slow, one short step in front of the other process. Six hours later, we reached the volcano’s crater. A dribble of smoke rose from the crater’s center as its only sign of life. More interesting were the carefully placed rocks within the crater that marked where the remains of six child sacrifices that had been discovered. It’s estimated the sacrifices took place about 500 years ago. I couldn’t help but wonder, given the difficulty of our hike with poles, good boots and heavy parkas, what faced these children as they hiked this rugged trail for the honor of residing with the gods.
It was cold at 18,000 feet and when the wind picked up, the guide told us it was too dangerous to continue up to the remaining 300 feet to the summit. An easy descent though fine sandy scree is thwarted by the cold, which has frozen the black sand rock hard. Instead, we are forced to return to the rock and retrace much of our earlier climb up. About six hours later we reach the waiting jeep. We had hiked with only short breaks and no real food for12 hours. John and I were silent during the ride back to Arequipa. To say I was too exhausted to speak isn’t an exaggeration.
In Arequipa we prepared for our flight back to Cusco, where we will have a couple of days before flying out to Quito, Ecuador, and our month on the Galapagos Islands.
Here’s a 5 minute Quicktime video of some of the photos taken on these treks
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