up the Peru coast, a set on Flickr.
Trujillo, Huanchaco and Mancora...all the fun BEFORE the border crossing
Saturday, April 14, 2012
from the beach to the mountains
from the beach to the mountains, a set on Flickr.
photos from Lima to Hauraz
"...and then they will kill you." said the thief
After our getting spoiled and fed (basically an entire cow a la parilla, ceviche, fish, lomo saltado and churros) in Lima for a couple of days, it was time to scoot along. We had a great time exploring the historic old part of Lima. This was something I waited to do until Justin got there and I'm glad I did. It had all kinds of great gems, the Cathedral, the Catacombs with thousands of bones and, like every major metropolitan city, Chinatown.
We were heading back up the mountains, to a town called Huaraz. It's known as a jumping off point into the real Andes, the beautiful Cordillera Blanca and the infamous Huascaran mountain sits watch over the town. If you climb, ice climb or mountaineer this is the town for you. It's also a great place if you just like to hike around looking at stupidly beautiful mountains. The Cordillera brags an impressive roll call of peaks...22 in fact, with summits over 6000m. That makes this the second highest mountain range in the world, second only to the Himalayas. Not bad, not bad at all. Our initial reason for heading over that way was to do our own trek. This time without a guide, a group and all the hoopla we left behind in Cuzco. There is a pretty famous 4-day trek there called the Santa Cruz trek. From what we gathered, it was totally doable to do it alone.
But like many things, this plan had to change. Upon arrival to Huaraz we discovered that a portion of the trail was closed due to a landslide and we couldn't go. There were a few options for day hikes, but really, if we wanted to get up to the mountains now, we would have to go on a guided tour. This option wasn't that appealing to either of us. We mulled it over for a couple days and explored some options of tours that we thought might be worthwhile while we did our best to do some hiking on our own during that ever important acclimatizing period. But at the end of the day, the altitude got the best of the Justin, and the cost of things got the best of me. So we gorged ourselves on tasty food (like the California Cafe) available in town, and decided, that maybe it was time to hit the coast. I was a bit bummed that we didn't get to climb any mountains or do a significant amount of hiking because it was just so beautiful there, but the beach did sound nice. So nice in fact, I thought I wouldn't be needing my hiking boots anymore. I am going north...it's gonna be warm. I won't need these nasty things anymore. Turns out that was a pretty impulsive move and apparently Ecuador has some pretty sweet mountains. DOH!
The way out of Huaraz was through Trujillo. Justin had done some research and found another cool spot. He wanted it to be a stop a long the way at Trujillo and Huanchaco on the coast of Peru. One for the historically and archaeologically significant site of Chan Chan and the other for the famous reed boats and surfing fisherman. We wouldn't be spending too much time there, mostly just passing through and breaking up the bus ride, but I am glad we did. They both were really worth it and something different from everything else we had seen and would see. It is still hard to really grasp that the ruins that we were standing in front of were over 3000 years old. It's amazing when you really stop and think about it.
It wasn't that we'd had an unpleasant experience in, Peru, we were just ready to get to something different, greener maybe. We'd had a great time, covered a lot of ground, seen some really cool things, but it was time to get to Ecuador. Mancora (our stop after Trujillo) was a good spot to hang out for a while, but the town really was only 2 streets plus a few others where the locals lived. By 3 days we had seen all there was to see and the surf there was far to advanced for the two of us. Besides the idea of sitting in the lap of luxury for a couple days with some friends of my mom didn't really sound like a bad idea at all. At this point all that stood between us and a room with AC was an 8 hour bus ride. I requested that we not take the night bus this time. First off I was sick of night buses. That, and I'd been told that the borders as we move north got exponentially more questionable and dangerous, and I would rather deal with it during the light of day. I was confident that we wouldn't have any problems, but the video recording and fingerprinting at the commence of a journey that seemed common place in Peru, for whatever reason, made me feel that, you know, maybe it's not such a bad idea to take this route during the day.
It was harder than we expected to get a day ticket. Apparently this route is much more popular by night, but there were 2 operators who did have a day service. We went with the cheaper one, which was similar in price to all the night services. We bought our tickets the day before we intended to travel and were told after the money had exchanged hands that we didn't actually have a direct bus from Mancora to Gauyaquil. What we had purchased was a transfer in a van to Tumbes and from Tumbes we would have to catch a bus to Guayaquil. We were assured that we had purchased everything necessary to get us to Guayaquil, it just was a little convoluted. This wasn't ideal, but it wasn't a big deal either. Really, it's just a transfer. The other bit of information that we got was that we were supposed to go back to where we bought the ticket/transfer at 7:15am for the transfer to come get us. Cool. Now that that's done, we can enjoy our last day on the beach and we really did.
Morning came fast and we were right where they told us to be right when they told us to get there. The transfer however was not. I am starting to see a trend here. By 9 am I was starting to get a little impatient. I had asked several times what was going on and was repeatedly told that the transfer would be right there. It wasn't long before we discovered why we had to wait at where we bought the tickets and not the normal bus terminal. A mostly unmarked van did eventually make it's way down the street at about 9:30 and the girl who sold us the ticket flagged it down and told us to get in. I should have known then that this was already going to be a different kind of border crossing.
The van was packed tight, but it wasn't uncomfortable. We watched to banana trees whip by, the small pueblos along the side of the road, the rising and falling of the lush green hills until it looked like we were reaching the outskirts of a pretty good sized city. This must be Tumbes. The van stopped and a guy opened the side door, looked right at me and said in Spanish, "you two came from Mancora and are going to Guayaquil, transferring with Cifa?" I nodded my head in agreement. "Follow me." So we got out of the van and there was a bit of the scuffle between the van driver and the new guy for the backpacks. I didn't get it all only something about "I am supposed to take them" and "Call if you don't believe me, I have the number." I thought it was a bit off, but it all happened so fast, and before I could say "fishy" we were in a taxi with 3 guys and our van was gone.
The 3 guys in the taxi were really nice. They were very social, asking all kinds of questions, talking a mile a minute. After a bit I asked for clarification about what was going on. I was under the impression that we were just going to get transferred to the bus and then be on our way, by now that good-sized city was behind us and I was starting to get a strong feeling that this just wasn't right. Of course they had a story to explain away all the weirdness that was going on. What they told me was that we had bought tickets for a local bus and that we had to cross the border to find the bus we had paid for. The expensive bus is apparently an international bus and that one takes you to through customs and what not. We didn't get that...so these guys, they work with the local bus company to get all that border crossing stuff taken care of, and THEN we get taken to our bus in Ecuador.
It seemed wrong. At this point I had done more than my fair share of international bus crossings and nothing like this had ever happened before. But I don't know...they may do things different up here? I always took the fancier international buses, maybe? I really wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay and that these guys really were working for the transfer company. But I couldn't shake that feeling that, Claudia...snap out of it, this just isn't right! And now that city we passed through seems very, very far away.
The taxi stopped at customs, and the fast-talker got out with us to show us where to go. There was nobody else around except for some security and one guy sitting at a desk who asked to see our passport. I gave it to him, he scanned it, took my temporary Peru visa and stamped me as out of the country. Justin handed his over, and now we had both legally left Peru.
It's at about this point that you normally walk on over to another counter with someone wearing a different countries military uniform and hand over your passport and then they stamp you to legally enter their country. This didn't happen. We got loaded up in the taxi again.
I asked the fast-talker. Where is the customs for Ecuador? You have to cross the border he told me...
This just isn't right.
All of a sudden the talk isn't so friendly. The theme has changed from being my buddy to telling me that the border is very dangerous and that we need to be careful - roll up the windows, lock your doors. This border is one of the most dangerous in all of south america...there is drug dealers and gangs and crooked cops and bad people and thieves and murderers and bad, bad, bad all there...lurking, waiting to get ahold of some gringos. But not to worry, we have them-our fast talking guide and his two mute buddies, and they will protect us.
Oh yeah, and the border is closed. There is a "parada," basically a strike of sorts, and the whole things is shut down. See...look our your window. Look at all these people. See...the cars aren't moving, the buses are stopped. You can't get across. Maybe by foot, but it's SOOO dangerous out there and you only have 30 minutes, and then who knows, the next world war might break out and we could be stuck in Peru for 2 days? 5 days? Weeks? Really there is no telling. But they know people and they can get us across. Of course they do.
The thing is though, we're gonna have to pay. Of course we are.
I may look like a gringa, but this ain't my first rodeo and these guys took a bad gamble thinking they were getting a penny from me. First of all, I don't carry cash when I travel, especially across borders. Second of all, I understand EVERY fricking lie you are feeding me and can talk back just as fast. This I didn't know until just that moment, with the windows rolled up and people knocking on the glass from outside, sweat dripping down our backs and faces. We are in a battle, me and this fast-talker, and he doesn't know who he's messing with. I am NOT scared of you or your stories, because that is all they are, stories. If you want to rob me, go ahead, you won't find a dime, just a backpack full of dirty clothes. You picked the wrong couple.
The lies keep spilling out of his mouth, trying harder and hard to plant that seed of fear that will turn into money for him. But what he doesn't know is that each lie isn't scaring me, it's pissing me off. I can feel the fire building behind my eyes, my features growing colder, my voice getting louder. He is getting mad, we're not giving in. I getting mad at him for his bullshit and mad at myself for letting us get in his crooked taxi to begin with. Justin knows something is up, but doesn't know all of it. The fast-talker gets out of the car with one of his buddies and leaves us there alone with the driver. They say it's to go talk to their friend that can get us across and negotiate a different price. I use the opportunity to tell Justin exactly what is going on, I don't want to scare him, but he needs to know. We're in a bad spot...and it's all my fault. "I am sorry," I tell him, "but I will get us out of here."
What are our options? Is it really that dangerous out there? Is there even really a parada? Can we walk across from here? How much do they want? Is it worth it to pay anything? I don't think we are in imminent danger of being killed, but this isn't a joking matter either...and on top of all of that we don't legally belong anywhere right now. We don't have the papers to be in Peru or Ecuador. I have no idea where we are. I have no idea where the bus is. I have no idea how to get us papers. I may be acting brave, but there is that little seed of doubt starting to take root. What if in my fury I am not grasping the real danger?
I just need to be still for a second. I just need to quiet all these thoughts that are racing in my head. I just need to listen, pray to know what the best answer is. I am being protected right now, Justin is being protected right now, just like we always are. It may not look like it, feel like it, or smell like it, but if I could just calm down. I take that moment to close my eyes, shut out all the noise, the distraction, the lies and say my simple prayer. I know good is here, everywhere. We are not forgotten, we are not lost, we are listening...so, what's up God, what am I supposed to do now?
My heart-rate drops. I look out the window and see the scene for the first time. It's a border, swimming with people. The cars are not moving and the little tuk-tuk looking guys are stopped as well. I see women selling food along the side of the road and men hawking glasses, clothes, and watches. It really doesn't seem all that different than any border town...except for the all the stopped traffic. Maybe these guys aren't totally shitting me...maybe they are.
The fast-talker and his buddy are back. Here's the deal the tell us. They can get us across, we will have to pay $100usd to the guy, but we can still make our bus. I tell him no. I want to see the border first. I want to ask the border agent if there is really a strike. I want to gauge for myself how dangerous this really is. If, and only if, I think it is as bad as he says, will I pay him. And only once we are across the border, not a cent before. If I don't think it was worth it, they won't see a dime. It's his call. But I have nothing to give you now and you won't get it later if I see that I was played. That won't work, he says, I have to pay him first. It's very simple, I told him what I would accept, and I am not negotiating. Think it over, I tell him. But you won't get any money from me until we're on the OTHER side of that border. We are at a stalemate again, only this time I'm not yelling, and he has to know he's already lost. But the bus, he tells me, you'll miss your bus. I just look at him, my offer is already on the table.
He's pacing outside the car now, sweating. I watch him for a while and then make a decision. I tell Justin to wait for me, to stay put, that I will be right back...and I get out of the taxi.
"Where are you going?!" the fast-talker yells in Spanish."They will kill you!" I wave him off, I am already gone. I am looking for a policeman or someone. People are hollering at me at the side of the road...whistles and catcalls and hola gringa. I see a truck driver and ask him if there is a parada. He tells me yes. But can I still get across the border...can I walk? He tells me sure, of course I can walk. Is it dangerous? He gives me a smile with several missing teeth, "no girl, you will be fine." I ask 2 more people they all tell me the same thing. This takes about 3 minutes and I head back to the taxi.
People are hollering at me. "Oye, gringa! Gringa! Por el otro lado! Gringa! Ya se fueron!" I ignore them like I always do, but it's the most persistent yelling I have ever heard. I get back to where the taxi was...and it's gone! I whip around, looking in a panic for signs of Justin. Shit! why did I ever leave him alone!!
"Gringa!!" I finally look one of the yellers in the face. He must see the worry in my eyes. He points in the direction I just came from, motioning for me to go back. "El gringo se fue por alla. El tiene sus mochillas. Correte niña, correte." I take off running, dodging the street vendors, the parked cars and the dogs, running to the symphony of locals telling me, "Por alla, el gringo se fue por alla." I am not sure what is registering, I am so mad at him for getting out of that taxi and so worried at the same time. Why would he ever do that?!
"Correte niña, correte!" It's like a sauna out here. It's hot, and humid...the sweat has soaked through my shirt and pooled in my elbows and ears...I am not a runner and it's getting hard to breathe. But then I see it, my bright blue backpack bobbing up and down in the distance. It's moving so fast. I start yelling for him, but I doubt he can hear me through all the noise. I have to catch him..."por alla niña, correte."
I finally catch up and yank on the bag to stop it from moving. I am so mad. I am so worried. I am so glad he's ok. I'm so...shaken. "Why did you do that?!" I yell, "why did you just take off like that?! I told you to wait! I told you I would be right back!" But he's mad too, I can see something different in his face and then he speaks, "as soon as you left they kicked me out. Unloaded the bags and took off. What was I supposed to do?"
I feel sick. "I'm so sorry, " I tell him, "I'm so sorry." Just then I notice he has two teenage boys with him, one of them is carrying my backpack. Justin is loaded down with his backpack, day pack and a rice-bag full of Peruvian blankets. "I'm so sorry." but now I'm fighting back tears. It's not just my life and my stuff, what if something happened to him...and it was my fault? "I'm so sorry. I just...I just..." It's all I can think to say.
"It's ok," he tells me. "It's better we're out of that car anyway. We're ok. But don't you ever leave me alone again." When did he get so calm? When did he get so...grown-up? I just look at him, all I want to do is bury myself in a hug, drinking in the fact that he is, actually ok. But we can't just stand here, we still have to find our bus...and we're still illegal.
The kids said can take us to the terminal, that they knew where Cifa was. All they wanted was a tip for taking us there. Sure, we can do that. I am sure these guys are little thieves in training, but at least they aren't asking for $100 or telling us we are going to get killed. Once I had Justin back in sight I calmed down a bit and recognized the irony of a thief warning us against thieves. At some point in the future this story will be funny. Right now I'm just relieved and will be even more relieved when we get on the bus. I have two nagging concerns, one is whether we even actually have a ticket (who knows, they may have sold us something bogus) and what we are going to do about the visa for Ecuador. We seriously NEED to get that taken care of. But I don't even know where to begin.
The kids kept their word and they delivered us to the Cifa terminal. It was a bit of a walk from where we had been fighting with the fast-talker, but nothing dangerous. Well, other than the heat. I felt like I had sweat half my body weight and was already wondering how I was going to salvage my first impression with my mom's good (and very wealthy, classy and probably good-smelling) friend who would be waiting for us in Guayaquil. I suppose that I will have to cross that bridge when we come to it, but I just have my mother's words echoing in my ear, "honey please, please, when you see my friends can you at least try not to look like a total bagabunda (aka homeless person)." I think I might have to let her down today, but hey, at least we'll still be alive and that should count for something; maybe even buy me some credit for my smelliness or general disheveled appearance.
I would have the bus ride to worry about this, first I had to make sure we actually did have a bus. I handed the girl at the window our receipt for our ticket. She had a very confused look on her face when she saw it and asked me what it was. I told her the story about the company in Mancora, the transfer, the taxi catastrophe...our need to get stamped into the country, how really, all we want is just to get to Guayaquil. Please, can you help us? She told me to wait for a minute, she had to call the number on the receipt and verify that we had actually paid for the service. Once she heard back, she said she could issue us our final tickets, but until then we would have to wait.
Maybe 10 minutes went by and I didn't hear anything from here. So I went back up to the window to see what was going on. No one was answering she said and we can either wait until she hears back or just buy another ticket.
This is really not our day.
I almost start to cry. "You don't understand," I said, "We can't wait until the next bus, my aunt (small white lie) is expecting us on that bus and there is no way for me to get ahold of her. She will be very concerned. We've already paid for the ticket. They promised us when we bought it that this was all we would need. And then those men...we have already had such a bad day, please, isn't there anything you can do to help us...please?"
"Your aunt is waiting for you?" she asks. I nod...in latin america friends are practically family anyway. "Hold on." She says, and I see her talk to what must be a manager. Just like that, we're going to get on the next bus. "What about the passports?" I ask her. More talking with the manager before she turns back to us and says, "the driver knows to take you to customs."
I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, it looks like things are gonna turn around. I sink down in that bus seat and don't even care that there isn't a/c. At least we're on a legitimate bus going to where someone will be waiting for us. I have never been so grateful to know that someone would be there waiting for me as I was right then. But right now, I'm just so tired. I look over at Justin sitting in the seat next to me and tell him again that I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get us into this mess. He just smiles at me, takes hold of my hand and tells me that it's ok. I got us in it, but I also got us out. And hey...don't over leave me again.
I promise. I got a firm grip on this one and I'm never letting go.
We were heading back up the mountains, to a town called Huaraz. It's known as a jumping off point into the real Andes, the beautiful Cordillera Blanca and the infamous Huascaran mountain sits watch over the town. If you climb, ice climb or mountaineer this is the town for you. It's also a great place if you just like to hike around looking at stupidly beautiful mountains. The Cordillera brags an impressive roll call of peaks...22 in fact, with summits over 6000m. That makes this the second highest mountain range in the world, second only to the Himalayas. Not bad, not bad at all. Our initial reason for heading over that way was to do our own trek. This time without a guide, a group and all the hoopla we left behind in Cuzco. There is a pretty famous 4-day trek there called the Santa Cruz trek. From what we gathered, it was totally doable to do it alone.
But like many things, this plan had to change. Upon arrival to Huaraz we discovered that a portion of the trail was closed due to a landslide and we couldn't go. There were a few options for day hikes, but really, if we wanted to get up to the mountains now, we would have to go on a guided tour. This option wasn't that appealing to either of us. We mulled it over for a couple days and explored some options of tours that we thought might be worthwhile while we did our best to do some hiking on our own during that ever important acclimatizing period. But at the end of the day, the altitude got the best of the Justin, and the cost of things got the best of me. So we gorged ourselves on tasty food (like the California Cafe) available in town, and decided, that maybe it was time to hit the coast. I was a bit bummed that we didn't get to climb any mountains or do a significant amount of hiking because it was just so beautiful there, but the beach did sound nice. So nice in fact, I thought I wouldn't be needing my hiking boots anymore. I am going north...it's gonna be warm. I won't need these nasty things anymore. Turns out that was a pretty impulsive move and apparently Ecuador has some pretty sweet mountains. DOH!
The way out of Huaraz was through Trujillo. Justin had done some research and found another cool spot. He wanted it to be a stop a long the way at Trujillo and Huanchaco on the coast of Peru. One for the historically and archaeologically significant site of Chan Chan and the other for the famous reed boats and surfing fisherman. We wouldn't be spending too much time there, mostly just passing through and breaking up the bus ride, but I am glad we did. They both were really worth it and something different from everything else we had seen and would see. It is still hard to really grasp that the ruins that we were standing in front of were over 3000 years old. It's amazing when you really stop and think about it.
It wasn't that we'd had an unpleasant experience in, Peru, we were just ready to get to something different, greener maybe. We'd had a great time, covered a lot of ground, seen some really cool things, but it was time to get to Ecuador. Mancora (our stop after Trujillo) was a good spot to hang out for a while, but the town really was only 2 streets plus a few others where the locals lived. By 3 days we had seen all there was to see and the surf there was far to advanced for the two of us. Besides the idea of sitting in the lap of luxury for a couple days with some friends of my mom didn't really sound like a bad idea at all. At this point all that stood between us and a room with AC was an 8 hour bus ride. I requested that we not take the night bus this time. First off I was sick of night buses. That, and I'd been told that the borders as we move north got exponentially more questionable and dangerous, and I would rather deal with it during the light of day. I was confident that we wouldn't have any problems, but the video recording and fingerprinting at the commence of a journey that seemed common place in Peru, for whatever reason, made me feel that, you know, maybe it's not such a bad idea to take this route during the day.
It was harder than we expected to get a day ticket. Apparently this route is much more popular by night, but there were 2 operators who did have a day service. We went with the cheaper one, which was similar in price to all the night services. We bought our tickets the day before we intended to travel and were told after the money had exchanged hands that we didn't actually have a direct bus from Mancora to Gauyaquil. What we had purchased was a transfer in a van to Tumbes and from Tumbes we would have to catch a bus to Guayaquil. We were assured that we had purchased everything necessary to get us to Guayaquil, it just was a little convoluted. This wasn't ideal, but it wasn't a big deal either. Really, it's just a transfer. The other bit of information that we got was that we were supposed to go back to where we bought the ticket/transfer at 7:15am for the transfer to come get us. Cool. Now that that's done, we can enjoy our last day on the beach and we really did.
Morning came fast and we were right where they told us to be right when they told us to get there. The transfer however was not. I am starting to see a trend here. By 9 am I was starting to get a little impatient. I had asked several times what was going on and was repeatedly told that the transfer would be right there. It wasn't long before we discovered why we had to wait at where we bought the tickets and not the normal bus terminal. A mostly unmarked van did eventually make it's way down the street at about 9:30 and the girl who sold us the ticket flagged it down and told us to get in. I should have known then that this was already going to be a different kind of border crossing.
The van was packed tight, but it wasn't uncomfortable. We watched to banana trees whip by, the small pueblos along the side of the road, the rising and falling of the lush green hills until it looked like we were reaching the outskirts of a pretty good sized city. This must be Tumbes. The van stopped and a guy opened the side door, looked right at me and said in Spanish, "you two came from Mancora and are going to Guayaquil, transferring with Cifa?" I nodded my head in agreement. "Follow me." So we got out of the van and there was a bit of the scuffle between the van driver and the new guy for the backpacks. I didn't get it all only something about "I am supposed to take them" and "Call if you don't believe me, I have the number." I thought it was a bit off, but it all happened so fast, and before I could say "fishy" we were in a taxi with 3 guys and our van was gone.
The 3 guys in the taxi were really nice. They were very social, asking all kinds of questions, talking a mile a minute. After a bit I asked for clarification about what was going on. I was under the impression that we were just going to get transferred to the bus and then be on our way, by now that good-sized city was behind us and I was starting to get a strong feeling that this just wasn't right. Of course they had a story to explain away all the weirdness that was going on. What they told me was that we had bought tickets for a local bus and that we had to cross the border to find the bus we had paid for. The expensive bus is apparently an international bus and that one takes you to through customs and what not. We didn't get that...so these guys, they work with the local bus company to get all that border crossing stuff taken care of, and THEN we get taken to our bus in Ecuador.
It seemed wrong. At this point I had done more than my fair share of international bus crossings and nothing like this had ever happened before. But I don't know...they may do things different up here? I always took the fancier international buses, maybe? I really wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay and that these guys really were working for the transfer company. But I couldn't shake that feeling that, Claudia...snap out of it, this just isn't right! And now that city we passed through seems very, very far away.
The taxi stopped at customs, and the fast-talker got out with us to show us where to go. There was nobody else around except for some security and one guy sitting at a desk who asked to see our passport. I gave it to him, he scanned it, took my temporary Peru visa and stamped me as out of the country. Justin handed his over, and now we had both legally left Peru.
It's at about this point that you normally walk on over to another counter with someone wearing a different countries military uniform and hand over your passport and then they stamp you to legally enter their country. This didn't happen. We got loaded up in the taxi again.
I asked the fast-talker. Where is the customs for Ecuador? You have to cross the border he told me...
This just isn't right.
All of a sudden the talk isn't so friendly. The theme has changed from being my buddy to telling me that the border is very dangerous and that we need to be careful - roll up the windows, lock your doors. This border is one of the most dangerous in all of south america...there is drug dealers and gangs and crooked cops and bad people and thieves and murderers and bad, bad, bad all there...lurking, waiting to get ahold of some gringos. But not to worry, we have them-our fast talking guide and his two mute buddies, and they will protect us.
Oh yeah, and the border is closed. There is a "parada," basically a strike of sorts, and the whole things is shut down. See...look our your window. Look at all these people. See...the cars aren't moving, the buses are stopped. You can't get across. Maybe by foot, but it's SOOO dangerous out there and you only have 30 minutes, and then who knows, the next world war might break out and we could be stuck in Peru for 2 days? 5 days? Weeks? Really there is no telling. But they know people and they can get us across. Of course they do.
The thing is though, we're gonna have to pay. Of course we are.
I may look like a gringa, but this ain't my first rodeo and these guys took a bad gamble thinking they were getting a penny from me. First of all, I don't carry cash when I travel, especially across borders. Second of all, I understand EVERY fricking lie you are feeding me and can talk back just as fast. This I didn't know until just that moment, with the windows rolled up and people knocking on the glass from outside, sweat dripping down our backs and faces. We are in a battle, me and this fast-talker, and he doesn't know who he's messing with. I am NOT scared of you or your stories, because that is all they are, stories. If you want to rob me, go ahead, you won't find a dime, just a backpack full of dirty clothes. You picked the wrong couple.
The lies keep spilling out of his mouth, trying harder and hard to plant that seed of fear that will turn into money for him. But what he doesn't know is that each lie isn't scaring me, it's pissing me off. I can feel the fire building behind my eyes, my features growing colder, my voice getting louder. He is getting mad, we're not giving in. I getting mad at him for his bullshit and mad at myself for letting us get in his crooked taxi to begin with. Justin knows something is up, but doesn't know all of it. The fast-talker gets out of the car with one of his buddies and leaves us there alone with the driver. They say it's to go talk to their friend that can get us across and negotiate a different price. I use the opportunity to tell Justin exactly what is going on, I don't want to scare him, but he needs to know. We're in a bad spot...and it's all my fault. "I am sorry," I tell him, "but I will get us out of here."
What are our options? Is it really that dangerous out there? Is there even really a parada? Can we walk across from here? How much do they want? Is it worth it to pay anything? I don't think we are in imminent danger of being killed, but this isn't a joking matter either...and on top of all of that we don't legally belong anywhere right now. We don't have the papers to be in Peru or Ecuador. I have no idea where we are. I have no idea where the bus is. I have no idea how to get us papers. I may be acting brave, but there is that little seed of doubt starting to take root. What if in my fury I am not grasping the real danger?
I just need to be still for a second. I just need to quiet all these thoughts that are racing in my head. I just need to listen, pray to know what the best answer is. I am being protected right now, Justin is being protected right now, just like we always are. It may not look like it, feel like it, or smell like it, but if I could just calm down. I take that moment to close my eyes, shut out all the noise, the distraction, the lies and say my simple prayer. I know good is here, everywhere. We are not forgotten, we are not lost, we are listening...so, what's up God, what am I supposed to do now?
My heart-rate drops. I look out the window and see the scene for the first time. It's a border, swimming with people. The cars are not moving and the little tuk-tuk looking guys are stopped as well. I see women selling food along the side of the road and men hawking glasses, clothes, and watches. It really doesn't seem all that different than any border town...except for the all the stopped traffic. Maybe these guys aren't totally shitting me...maybe they are.
The fast-talker and his buddy are back. Here's the deal the tell us. They can get us across, we will have to pay $100usd to the guy, but we can still make our bus. I tell him no. I want to see the border first. I want to ask the border agent if there is really a strike. I want to gauge for myself how dangerous this really is. If, and only if, I think it is as bad as he says, will I pay him. And only once we are across the border, not a cent before. If I don't think it was worth it, they won't see a dime. It's his call. But I have nothing to give you now and you won't get it later if I see that I was played. That won't work, he says, I have to pay him first. It's very simple, I told him what I would accept, and I am not negotiating. Think it over, I tell him. But you won't get any money from me until we're on the OTHER side of that border. We are at a stalemate again, only this time I'm not yelling, and he has to know he's already lost. But the bus, he tells me, you'll miss your bus. I just look at him, my offer is already on the table.
He's pacing outside the car now, sweating. I watch him for a while and then make a decision. I tell Justin to wait for me, to stay put, that I will be right back...and I get out of the taxi.
"Where are you going?!" the fast-talker yells in Spanish."They will kill you!" I wave him off, I am already gone. I am looking for a policeman or someone. People are hollering at me at the side of the road...whistles and catcalls and hola gringa. I see a truck driver and ask him if there is a parada. He tells me yes. But can I still get across the border...can I walk? He tells me sure, of course I can walk. Is it dangerous? He gives me a smile with several missing teeth, "no girl, you will be fine." I ask 2 more people they all tell me the same thing. This takes about 3 minutes and I head back to the taxi.
People are hollering at me. "Oye, gringa! Gringa! Por el otro lado! Gringa! Ya se fueron!" I ignore them like I always do, but it's the most persistent yelling I have ever heard. I get back to where the taxi was...and it's gone! I whip around, looking in a panic for signs of Justin. Shit! why did I ever leave him alone!!
"Gringa!!" I finally look one of the yellers in the face. He must see the worry in my eyes. He points in the direction I just came from, motioning for me to go back. "El gringo se fue por alla. El tiene sus mochillas. Correte niña, correte." I take off running, dodging the street vendors, the parked cars and the dogs, running to the symphony of locals telling me, "Por alla, el gringo se fue por alla." I am not sure what is registering, I am so mad at him for getting out of that taxi and so worried at the same time. Why would he ever do that?!
"Correte niña, correte!" It's like a sauna out here. It's hot, and humid...the sweat has soaked through my shirt and pooled in my elbows and ears...I am not a runner and it's getting hard to breathe. But then I see it, my bright blue backpack bobbing up and down in the distance. It's moving so fast. I start yelling for him, but I doubt he can hear me through all the noise. I have to catch him..."por alla niña, correte."
I finally catch up and yank on the bag to stop it from moving. I am so mad. I am so worried. I am so glad he's ok. I'm so...shaken. "Why did you do that?!" I yell, "why did you just take off like that?! I told you to wait! I told you I would be right back!" But he's mad too, I can see something different in his face and then he speaks, "as soon as you left they kicked me out. Unloaded the bags and took off. What was I supposed to do?"
I feel sick. "I'm so sorry, " I tell him, "I'm so sorry." Just then I notice he has two teenage boys with him, one of them is carrying my backpack. Justin is loaded down with his backpack, day pack and a rice-bag full of Peruvian blankets. "I'm so sorry." but now I'm fighting back tears. It's not just my life and my stuff, what if something happened to him...and it was my fault? "I'm so sorry. I just...I just..." It's all I can think to say.
"It's ok," he tells me. "It's better we're out of that car anyway. We're ok. But don't you ever leave me alone again." When did he get so calm? When did he get so...grown-up? I just look at him, all I want to do is bury myself in a hug, drinking in the fact that he is, actually ok. But we can't just stand here, we still have to find our bus...and we're still illegal.
The kids said can take us to the terminal, that they knew where Cifa was. All they wanted was a tip for taking us there. Sure, we can do that. I am sure these guys are little thieves in training, but at least they aren't asking for $100 or telling us we are going to get killed. Once I had Justin back in sight I calmed down a bit and recognized the irony of a thief warning us against thieves. At some point in the future this story will be funny. Right now I'm just relieved and will be even more relieved when we get on the bus. I have two nagging concerns, one is whether we even actually have a ticket (who knows, they may have sold us something bogus) and what we are going to do about the visa for Ecuador. We seriously NEED to get that taken care of. But I don't even know where to begin.
The kids kept their word and they delivered us to the Cifa terminal. It was a bit of a walk from where we had been fighting with the fast-talker, but nothing dangerous. Well, other than the heat. I felt like I had sweat half my body weight and was already wondering how I was going to salvage my first impression with my mom's good (and very wealthy, classy and probably good-smelling) friend who would be waiting for us in Guayaquil. I suppose that I will have to cross that bridge when we come to it, but I just have my mother's words echoing in my ear, "honey please, please, when you see my friends can you at least try not to look like a total bagabunda (aka homeless person)." I think I might have to let her down today, but hey, at least we'll still be alive and that should count for something; maybe even buy me some credit for my smelliness or general disheveled appearance.
I would have the bus ride to worry about this, first I had to make sure we actually did have a bus. I handed the girl at the window our receipt for our ticket. She had a very confused look on her face when she saw it and asked me what it was. I told her the story about the company in Mancora, the transfer, the taxi catastrophe...our need to get stamped into the country, how really, all we want is just to get to Guayaquil. Please, can you help us? She told me to wait for a minute, she had to call the number on the receipt and verify that we had actually paid for the service. Once she heard back, she said she could issue us our final tickets, but until then we would have to wait.
Maybe 10 minutes went by and I didn't hear anything from here. So I went back up to the window to see what was going on. No one was answering she said and we can either wait until she hears back or just buy another ticket.
This is really not our day.
I almost start to cry. "You don't understand," I said, "We can't wait until the next bus, my aunt (small white lie) is expecting us on that bus and there is no way for me to get ahold of her. She will be very concerned. We've already paid for the ticket. They promised us when we bought it that this was all we would need. And then those men...we have already had such a bad day, please, isn't there anything you can do to help us...please?"
"Your aunt is waiting for you?" she asks. I nod...in latin america friends are practically family anyway. "Hold on." She says, and I see her talk to what must be a manager. Just like that, we're going to get on the next bus. "What about the passports?" I ask her. More talking with the manager before she turns back to us and says, "the driver knows to take you to customs."
I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, it looks like things are gonna turn around. I sink down in that bus seat and don't even care that there isn't a/c. At least we're on a legitimate bus going to where someone will be waiting for us. I have never been so grateful to know that someone would be there waiting for me as I was right then. But right now, I'm just so tired. I look over at Justin sitting in the seat next to me and tell him again that I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get us into this mess. He just smiles at me, takes hold of my hand and tells me that it's ok. I got us in it, but I also got us out. And hey...don't over leave me again.
I promise. I got a firm grip on this one and I'm never letting go.
 |
| After all that...we're still smiling. |
Monday, April 9, 2012
Getting high like the Incas
The day was finally here, it had been 6 months since I left home and Justin was coming to spend the next month with me. We had a loose plan of what we would be seeing together during that month, and the first thing on the list was getting to Cuzco for a 5 day trek to Machu Picchu. I was going back to Machu Picchu almost 6 months to the day from when the girls went with me. I was curious if it would still be as impressive. Granted the journey getting me there would be markedly different and so would my company. But for now, it's first things first. I have to find Justin at the airport. Laura had warned me that picking someone up from the international terminal in Lima was like trying to find a person in a sea of bobbing heads. She was absolutely right. People were spilling in from everywhere; up stairs, along railings, filling the entire floor outside the gates with arms and hands full of signs, balloons, stuffed animals and flowers. How am I ever going to find him in this mess?
Peruvians aren't the tallest people in the world. Not that I can really judge, because even on my best days standing as tall as I can, I barely top the 5´ mark, but that puts me eye-level here. Normally that's a huge improvement, but then there were all those signs, and balloons and tall hats everywhere. I needed an advantage or finding him in this crowd would be a lost cause. Then I saw my opening, a window I could climb up into.
I perched up in that window for over an hour before I saw him walk through the gates. He was, in all honesty, pretty easy to spot, towering over the locals by an easy 6,8, 10". But that wasn't what gave him away, there it was, my smile signed and sealed with the one lone dimple. He saw me too and I motioned to him which door to go out of to meet me. There, 6 months, all gone with one strong embrace, a kiss that I hadn't tasted since Sky Harbor in Phoenix, and the familiar thump of his heart beat with my face buried in his chest. Amazingly, within that single moment, it felt like we had never been apart. It just felt right, familiar, safe...like home. We wouldn't have too long to stand there like that there was a crowd of people trying to get by and a very patient driver waiting to take us to our hotel. We'd be back to the airport first thing in the morning...for a flight to Cuzco.
We didn't waste a minute getting right into the swing of this traveling thing. Morning came fast and we were back at the airport, but this time we would be going somewhere together. That was a very welcome change. It was so nice to have someone to talk to, to share a meal with, to have a hand to hold. I could get used to this. Cuzco, this is familiar, kind of like I've been here before. Oh, that's right, I have. I really must love this kid.
The plan was pretty straightforward. We would spend a couple days bumming around Cuzco, getting acclimatized as the locals say, you know doing the usual, sucking on coca candy and chewing on leaves. From there we would start a 5 day trek to Machu Picchu. No, not the Inca trail, we are far too hardcore for that. Actually I had just heard a lot of mixed reviews and something about a "conveyor belt of white people" and campgrounds with 500 people. That was enough to turn me off of that route. After a bit of research and some recommendations we decided on the Salkantay Trek. It promised to take us over a high pass where we would see a massive glacier and from there drop down in elevation watching the flora change from alpine to dense green cloud-forest. As far as variety, this seemed like the best choice. No, there was no promise of indigenous people in colorful outfits showcasing their "traditional" way of life. There was no promise of adrenaline pumping bike rides or ziplines. Just the promise of a beautiful, challenging trek...and at the end of it, the hopes of seeing Machu Picchu without clouds. It was still the rainy season and there was the very real possibility that we would see nothing at all or be turned around by landslides. Then after conquering the ancient city of the Incas, we would fly back to Lima. From there the plan was considerably more loose. There was going to be a lot of let's see how we feel and moving from there. That turned out to be a pretty good plan. But first, we had to see about Cuzco.
Justin had booked us a place to stay in Cuzco, it was fancy, a whole like nicer than most of the places that I have been staying in. That was for sure. It's nice dating a working man. The only downside was that it was at the top of this pretty good sized hill. I about died trying to get up there. Apparently the last time I came here I had been doing more yoga...my little heart and lungs it seems aren't quite as fit as they had been. What a jewel when we did reach the hotel...and the amazing view of the Cuzco and the square right from our window. It's training, that's all. This little walk up to the hotel, it's just training for what is about to come.
We didn't really have too much of an agenda for the 2 days that we would be acclimatizing. The one thing we did have to do was find our way to the office of our guide and pay the remaining portion of the tour. This would be my first time meeting our guide, Wilson, face to face. I had been communicating with him for over 2 months to get our spot secured. With all the new measures in place regulating the amount of visitors Machu Picchu can get in a day I was under the impression that we had to pre-book our tour. Back in the day you used to just show up in Cuzco and book your tour directly there. This is a far more economical way of doing it than pre-booking on the web....but I was told that wasn't really an option anymore. When I was working down at Erratic in Chile I met a girl who had done the trek I wanted to do and recommended the guide. That was how I got in touch with Wilson; he came very highly recommended. After talking to him we agreed on a price which seemed fair, a couple hundred dollars less per person than most of the other tour companies that I had found online, but still more than what the rumors where you would be able to find if you were ballsy enough to just try and show up. I had already been to Machu Picchu, but Justin hadn't, I wasn't willing to take the risk for him. It is amazing, and if we weren't able to find a tour because I wanted to save $100 it just didn't seem right. So...that's where Wilson came in.
I'll be honest, he wasn't what I was expecting. He was short, no real suprise there, we were in Peru after all. But he was kind of pudgy and that is something you just don't think you'll see in a mountain guide. Their job is to walk pretty good distances, pretty much every day. Maybe this hike won't be so tough.
You would also think that at this point I would have learned to stop making such superficial snap judgements about people.
His English was also not quite what I was expecting. Up until this point all of our communication in email had been in Spanish, so this poor guy had been subject to my written Spanish for 2 months. For some reason, I just assumed that his English would be better than my Spanish, not so much for me, but for Justin. I was wrong. He had an interesting rhythm when he spoke and had picked up some odd phrases from somewhere along the way that he liked to throw around. But I think his favorites were, "Okay, my friends," "for the first of all," and "macho man."
During our meeting we paid the remainder of the balance and were given a rundown of what to expect. At that time he said our group could be just the 2 or us or as many as 12. He was waiting on some people to make their final confimations. Turns out, you CAN still just show up. He saw the look of unhappiness on my face at the mention of 12 people in a tour. Up until this point I had been re-assured that no matter what our group would never be bigger than 8 people. I am no math whiz, but 12 is definitely more than 8. But at that point there really wasn't much I could do about it. So I just hoped for the best. As for the itinerary of the hike it would break down like this:
Day 1: They would pick us up at our hotel at 5AM and a van would take our group 2.5hours to where we would begin the trail. Breakfast would be served at a restaurant before we started the trek and lunch would be provided along the hike. All said and done we would be expected to hike about 7 hours and cover about 13miles. Camp that night would be at the base of 2 snowcapped mountains (read: cold) at an altitude of 3850meters.
Day 2: Get up early and climb for about 5 hours to the highest point of the hike, 4650meters before we start the gradual descent of 4 hours to camp at 3300meteres.
Day 3: Keep on descending and watch as the weather and vegetation changes to a cloud forest. At then end of the hike that day a transfer will be waiting to take us to Santa Theresa. We would camp there, at 1750meters and have the chance to go to thermal baths if we wanted.
Day 4: Pretty much a flat walk of 8 hours through more tropical vegetation into the park reserves and along the railroad tracks until we reach the town of Aguas Calientes. Sleep in a hotel.
Day 5: Machu Picchu (either by bus or stairs)! with a 2 hour guided tour and the option to hike WaynaPicchu. At the end of the day there was a train then bus ride back to Cuzco.
We were excited for the hike. Everything sounded great. We were told to look for duffle bags with our trekking poles and sleeping bags at the hotel the following day. We were supposed to load up the bags with all the critical things that we would need and leave the rest behind at the hotel. Oh, and to be ready at 5 am for the van. Until then we had nearly 2 days to enjoy Cuzco. We shook hands and took the streets. 5 am. See you in 2 days at 5 am.
In those 2 days I discovered that Justin had a strange fettish, albeit addicion, for peruvian blankets. He couldn't stop looking at them, talking about them, thinking about them...he had to have them. He also likes to make friends with little kids trying to sell him hats. We all have our odditites. Along with his love of supermarkets, snowcones and soccer jerseys, I guess I shouldn't be shocked by this new obsession with blankets. I think we might just learn a whole lot about one another in this next month. That happens when you travel or camp and we will be doing both. All of a sudden I'm getting nervous. What if this whole thing doesn't go well at all. People can get crazy when they are cold, wet, hungry, dirty, tired, etc. I know. I get crazy. What if he does too? What if, at the end of this thing, we kind of hate each other? I guess we are going to find out.
But before that we had some wandering around Cuzco to do. Doing things other than just looking at blankets...like getting massages for 20soles each that's like $8. Think about that. We also had to eat. We had traditional set lunches with soup and then the main course. But the best thing we found was lentil burgers at a little vegetarian restuarant tucked away in a corner. That was the beginning of Justin's theory that you will never be disappointed by the local vegetarian restraurant. We looked at street art, climbed lots and lots of stairs, watched a procession of sorts, said what's up to the Jesus standing watch at the top of the hill...and looked at more blankets. After all that blanket shopping 5 am rolled up real fast. But our ride didn't. Our ride didn't show up until after 6...and then the van had 13 people in it. This is not a good start.
I was so tired. I never get much sleep the night before I know I have to get up early for something. I was hoping for a comfortable seat in the van so I could try to snooze. But since the van was packed so tightly Justin and I got the last 2 seats, up in the very front, with me riding in the middle with a metal bar in my back. Super. Our friend Wilson, at this point, is already getting in trouble with me.
Well at least the ride will be nice. The scenery should be interesting. The driver seems friendly, and at least I could chat with him a bit. I was trying to convince myself not be too upset. Maybe all these people are just sharing the transfer and then we will split up with different guides and groups? Maybe the rain will clear up and then I can see the scenery? Maybe this metal bar digging into my spine has unforseen health benefits? Maybe I am just cranky right now because I'm sleepy. That has to be it, because I was coldly judging the converstation that was going on behind me. Some girls just talking on and on and on about all the bad things that have happened to them on their trip so far, almost like it was bagging rights. I could tell by the accent...Americans. They probably had it coming. (I realize this was not nice, but that was the state I was in.) And then the fun really began. We got a sicky on board, let the vomiting begin. Really...just, super.
The ride took a bit longer than expected. What with all the pulling over to let someone out and all. I felt bad for the girl. All of a sudden that metal bar in my back and the lack of sleep seemed small in comparison. At least I wasn't yacking all along the highway.
We did eventually make it to our destination and had some breakfast. The weather had turned and it was shaping up to be a beautiful day. The sun came out, the mountains were all beautiful green, I'd had breakfast...things were, really, looking up. There were 2 more people at the restaurant who would be joining our group. This now had roll call up to 15 people. It was at this point that Wilson asked us all to get together so he could explain some things. The gist of it was that because our group was so big there would be 2 guides and we would be split into 2 groups. We would all eat together and camp together since the porters and guides worked as a team. So at that point they separated us. Justin and I were in a group with 2 dutch guys, 3 canadian guys, and 2 argentinian girls. The other group was 3 canadians, a swedish girl(the one that got sick), a british girl, and 2 american girls. The other group took off with the other guide, Ivan, and we were left with Wilson. We had a little get to know eachother session. Where everyone had to circle up and say their name, where they are from and what they do. Kind of like the first day of school. I was suprised by the diversity of our group, we really did have people from all different professions. But I didn't want to stand around talking, I wanted to get started on the hike.
My eagerness would eventually be put in check. At that point I hadn't actually done any walking yet, so it was easy to be eager. It didn't take long before I noticed that this was harder than it should be. We were keeping a pretty steady pace, but the climbing took it out of me pretty quick. I would recover alright, but then within a few minutes again I realized I was working hard. And I wasn't even carrying a pack. I just had a little daypack with water, layers and a camera. I mean, I know it's been a while since I had done any hiking, but it really should not be this hard. It was ok, the breaks were welcome opportunities to take in the view.
Before too long it was lunch time. The other group was already there along with the porters and cooks. We all gathered around the makeshift table and waited for lunch. It was a very typical Peruvian lunch, soup followed by main (rice+something else). Our drinks were warm because they had boiled to water to purify it and then put in mystery flavoring. Which, in retrospect, may explain the unfortunate liquid poop that followed me along the duration of the trek.
After lunch the 2 group thing pretty much came to a stop. We had one guide, Ivan leading the group, and the other, Wilson, taking up the tail, and all of us just spaced out in the middle. It was a big spread too. Jeannie, one of the American girls and 2 Canadian brothers generally would lead off the group and the 2 Argentinian girls took solid command of the end. Once I got over the innitial disappoinment of having such a large group, I actually found it to be pretty nice. With everyone hiking at their own pace, Justin and I pretty much felt like we were alone, except we didn't have to carry anything and camp and food would just be ready.
And it turns out, we really did have a pretty great group. As the days went on we got to know each other, and everyone was really cool. I was forced to aknowledge that yet again, my snap judgements were unfair. Everyone was friendly, had interesting stories and was quick to share a joke or laugh....and at times, it was really great to have that much support.
That first day felt like the longest, mostly because it started so early. But after lunch when Justin and I were free to hike at our own pace we had a lot of time to just catch up and talk. It didn't feel like it, with him there at that moment, but we had been apart for 6 months and there was a lot of catching up to do. I guess more on my end then on his. Most of my stories he knew about because there were up here on the blog, but he had been busy doing things too. It was just nice to finally get that chance to really hear what he had been up to, what he had been thinking about, and what he was hoping for our future together. Our future together, yeah, that sounds nice. It's not just what I'm doing here and what he's doing there, but that, still at the end of this, we both want there to be a what-we-do-who-knows-where-together.
The description that Wilson gave us turned out to be pretty accurate. We did climb all day the first day and camped at the base of this beauty. I was ready to get there. There was a small, but constant throb in my head, and I really was looking forward to laying down. Camp was a bit different. They pitched all the tents inside a big tent. They said it was because it got really cold there. I thought it was a bit odd, but didn't complain. Outside of the master tent the ground was just a mess with mud everywhere. At least this way we only had to deal with it when you had to find the outhouse. They served dinner that night, but I could hardly choke down any food. I just didn't have an appetite and I think my body was having a challenge equalizing; I just felt bloated and gross. I wasn't the only one. I noticed that most of the group just pushed the food around on their plates. Food was the last thing on my mind, all I wanted was to go to sleep.
I crawled into the tent. Justin had already started to set things up in there by laying out the sleeping pads. If you even want to call them sleeping pads. We were promised top quality gear for the trek, so I left all my stuff at the hotel in Cuzco. Granted I would have used the tent that they brought, because mine is a tiny one man, but if I had known the crap they were giving us for pads and bags I definitely would have brought my own. Besides, at this point, I had bonded with my sleeping pad and bag. Sleeping with these others just felt all wrong. I assumed that I was just dog tired enough that it wouldn't matter how crappy the gear was.
I was wrong. It did matter. I slept for maybe an hour that night. I was cold, clammy, and could feel EVERYTHING on the ground below me. That and with so many tents right next to one another, you could hear everything that was going on around you. If someone turned, unzipped anything, talked, snored...you heard it all. I don't think Justin slept much either.
I was actually glad when they woke us up at 4 am. Well, woke those up that had been sleeping. We must just well get on with it, I can't sleep anyway. We packed up everything but the tents and all gathered around the table for breakfast. I knew I should eat something, but I still wasn't hungry. That's weird. I am always hungry.
Today was a big day. We would be climbing to the highest point of the trek. The estimated trekking time to the pass was 4 hours. We had the option of paying for a horse to take us up if you didn't feel strong enough. I am not going to lie, I seriously considered it. I felt pretty crappy. Not sick or anything, just really weak. I hadn't slept in 2 days, hadn't really eaten either...and had hiked for 7 hours the day before, that and it really was hard to breathe.
But then I knew if I did get a horse I would never forgive myself. I wanted to do this. Besides, the uncomfortable, miserable, painful part is what makes that view all worthwhile. I can't cheat myself and get a horse. Besides if all these other people can do it and if my pudgy mountain guide does it, I can totally do it too.
When we were all done with breakfast we were free to start hiking. Justin and I began, being sure to set a pace we could sustain. The view was increadible, with Salkantay looming right there in front of us. The further we climbed the more majestic it looked. The valley we had camped at was shrinking behind us, and eventually both the peak of the mountain and the valley below us were hidden in clouds. The view would come and go as the wind, clouds and sun shifted. We had a lot of time to take it in...stoping every few minutes to catch our breath.
It was slow and steady progress. Justin was great, staying with me the whole time and giving me little words of encourgament when my breath seemed more like hyperventilation. Switchbacks. Lots and lots of switchbacks. Zig-zagging slowly up this mountain. It didn't feel like we were even making progress, but looking back we could tell that we actually were. Looking ahead we could tell we had to get moving. It looked like the weather was changing, and the picture perfect view from the pass that we were hoping for was becoming more and more unlikely. Instead of the clouds burning off with the day they were getting thicker and thicker - turning grey and heavy. These clouds were turning into rain clouds. I know rain clouds.
We kept plodding along. By the time we were reaching the pass it would be forward progress of 1 minute to 1 minute of rest. But we were getting there. We won't be the first, but we did it on our own two legs, and we did it. That really is the part that matters. Our celebration at the highest point was short-lived. The weather had turned and it was raining up there. It was cold and cloudy, but we were there, and THAT was worth something. Breathless, dizzy, cold and wet we made it: Salkantay pass. From there it was smooth sailing, easy by comparison, all downhill.
All of a sudden breathing felt easy again. Oh yeah, suck in that air. We had been working so hard for 4 hours. Working to move our legs that felt like lead, working to take a breath, working to turn a grimmace into a smile, working to remember why we wanted to do this in the first place, working to find the joy in those nauseous moments. At least we had eachother, a kind word of encouragement, a hand placed reassuringly on a shoulder, a promise that it will all be worthwhile, it will all be ok....it IS all ok, and, hey - I love you.
So now it gets easier. We have been through the hardest part and it gets easier. If only the rain would let up. Within a few minutes we had a rhythm, with our trekking poles clicking along side us. Soon it was lunch...soon it was camp. But yes, it was still raining.
There was not master tent tonight. At least we would be sleeping on grass. That should be softer than the ground from last night. I was optimistic for a good nights rest. Only problem was it was wet out and it soaked right through the tent and the pads. We got off ok comparatively - other tents were completely flooded. I still didn't sleep. We're on to 3 days now, but at least I am eating again.
The next day picked up where the previous one left off, more easy downhill. By now the group had really started to mesh, and it made the time go by quickly. The scenery had also changed significantly, it had gotten warmer, the greenery more dense and the air heavy with oxygen and moisture. We could see evidence of landslides everywhere. Sometimes they blocked our path and we had to cautiously climb over the pile of loose dirt the spilled over the path and down the cliff along side. We got to cross rivers. These were much nicer than the rivers I faced in the south, pleasantly warm by comparison and much shallower. We stopped along the way to purchase snacks. This was the mark of a true businessman, a little stand set up along the side of the trail selling bananas to hikers...when we could see he pulled the bananas right off the tree next to the stand. We joked it wasn't even his tree. 100% profit, that's the way to do business.
It felt like a short walk by comparison. There was no real challenge, only minor obstacles like rivers and deep muddy paths; but at least we could breathe. Before it felt like we even got started, we were at our lunch spot waiting for the transfer to come pick us up and take us to Santa Theresa. We got there quickly and used the opportunity to lay out sleeping bags, socks, shoes and whatever else had been flooded the night before. It wouldn't dry it all out, but it would at least help.
Well, it would help until the rain started again. Which it did, it IS still rainy season here.
After a few hours of sitting around we were starting to get nervous about this transfer. We had seen 2 other groups show up after us and get picked up already. This didn't look good. Wilson, miraculously, was nowhere to be found. Actually, throughout most of the trek so far he really hadn't been around much at all. We had spent more time talking with and eating with Ivan than with our official guide. He was definately not earning himself a good tip. A van did show up, but it wasn't big enough to take us all. We were a group of 15 people not the typical 8 so we had to split up. They took as much of the gear as they could so at least they could start to set up the next camp and as many people as they could fit. Justin and I were lucky, we claimed seats and were off the Santa Theresa.
There wasn't much to the town and the campsite really left much to be desired. The tents were soaked. The sleeping pads stank. The ground was soft with mud. By now I had taken the opportunity to express my disatisfaction with Wilson when he finally did come around. My biggest complaints were about the gear. Actually, that was really all, but that was key. The size of the group really didn't bother me in the end. I think it was just because everyone got along well and we were all (with the exception of the 2 girls from Argentina) at about the same physical level and kept a strong pace. But the quality of the gear was really unacceptable. By now, Justin and I had heard what the rest of the group had paid for the tour...half of what we paid. Half. NOT COOL.
We paid double for what exactly? We paid double for the security of getting a tour? For one breakfast? For a pair of trekking poles? For shitty gear and flooded tents? For a guide that wasn't around and spoke broken English at best? We paid double for late transfers and bad seats? I was not happy about this and thought that he should know. I had trusted him and felt we had developed a relationship through the 2 months of planning, but now I was pissed. You don't want me pissed, and tired and hungry. But that was what our dear friend Wilson got.
I think he just needed a little shaking. That night we had a room to sleep in. That night we had our transfer and entrance to the thermal baths covered. That night I got an apology. That night I almost forgave it. I still wasn't pleased, but at least I wasn't fuming. That's progress I suppose.
The ride over and back to the thermal baths was bit of an adventure in it's own right. We had waaay to many people in the van and the road snaked dangerously close to the rushing river. To top it all off, it was dark with no street lamps to throw some light on the winding, bumpy dirt road. We take a turn to fast this van is going into the river...and we all die. Those thermal baths better be worth it. But of course they were.I figured it would be hard to impress me with thermal baths as I has been to a few other on this trip, but these really did take the cake. It may have been because we had been hiking for 3 days and they were the closest thing to a shower I'd had...or maybe it was the way they looked carved right out of the cliff. Either way, a couple of hours of soaking in thermal baths will put anyone in a better mood. It was a beautiful set up and we were basically the only group there. There was a series of pools that got warmer the further you moved away from the river. But the river was nice to have. When I got to hot I would just scamper on over to the river and go for a quick plunge. It was cold, but the clay-like banks were warm on my feet and the contrast felt really nice. Justin couldn't believe it when he saw it. I, of all people, was willing to submerge myself in cold water. He stepped in about knee high and said to hell with it and went back to the warm pools. I stayed a bit longer with the water up to my chin and my toes buried in the warm clay. I'm in a thermal bath on my way to Machu Picchu. Huh, that's a little surreal.
The next day was our last actual day of the hike. By the end of it we would be in the town of Aguas Calientes with the option of hiking to Machu Picchu or taking the bus. Today was scheduled to be pretty easy - a mostly flat walk and then some walking along the railroad track.
The whole group walked along a nice path that followed the river before entering the park that calls Machu Picchu home. We stopped for a lunch along the raiload tracks at a little restaurant that lacked basic sanitation but had a huge t.v. with satellite attached. This phenomenon is common in all of latin america. Even the poorest most shoddily put together establishment there will be a t.v. showing the current soccer match. It was our last meal with our cook. He really tried to do something fancy for the last meal and really, you put an avocado in front of me and I'm going to be happy. So...I was pretty happy. We said goodbye to our cook and kept going down the tracks. I had made a game of walking along the rail, balancing for long streches at a time and hopping from sleeper to sleeper. I was practically careless making my way down the path regardless of whether the track was on the ground or over tributary rivers rushing to meet the big one flowing off to the right. After I had passed a significantly longer and higher stretch of rail I kept going up the path before I thought that it would be cool to take Justin's picture as he balanced on this precarious portion of the trek. Just then I turned around to see that he was about to start the crossing. He didn't see me, because he was concentrating on his steps, but then, as if in slow motion, I watched him miscalculate his stride. The foot slipped off the sleeper and I watched him fall between the tracks into what? I couldn't remember. There was nothing I could do but yell for him and run back to where I saw him disappear.
Please God, make sure he is ok. Was there a river there? Was there not a river? How far was it? Did he hit his head? Did he break a leg? Where the hell is our guide now?! Our friends Mischa and Frank also saw him fall and took off running toward him at the same time I did. Mischa got to the bridge before I did and I saw him jump down off the edge to whatever was below. Please God, I hope they are ok. Please, make this be one of those dry river beds...please.
I got there a second later and saw Justin standing (good sign) with his feet in the little bit of water that chose to make this a tributary to the monster flowing just 15 feet away, with Mischa standing by supporting him. I jumped down too to get the pack off him and help guide him to the edge where he could climb back out. We passed the pack to Frank who took it, and very cafefully across the tracks to the other side. Once we got Justin out of the ditch and sat him down it was time to see how he was doing. Nothing broken, thank goodness, and he managed not to hit his had in the spectacular fall between the sleepers - but he was pretty shaken. His knee took a pretty good knock and he has some scrapes up his leg. But really, all things considered, he looked alright. He was pale and a little bloody, but still able to walk. Mischa and Frank waited until he said he was sure he was ok before they kept going up the path. I could see, however that they never got too far ahead and kept looking back to check on us. It was best to just keep him moving, not to give him enough time to sit and get stiff...not give him enough time to think about what just happened. We still had a lot of train tracks to walk, I was just praying we didn't have a lot more rivers to cross.
Needless to say, I was a bit more careful from there on out. Realizing in retrospect how reckless I had really been bounding along the tracks like I had. At least tonight we had a hotel to look forward to...and a shower and some clean clothes. We were seperated from the rest of the group and were told that we had reservations at a different hotel. Apparently it was supposed to be nicer and soften that blow of double the cost. All I cared was that it was quiet and there was a hot water. I left Justin in the room while I went to get our bags with Wilson. They had been sent with a train so we didn't have to carry the duffle bags. We had just enough time to shower up and meet the group for dinner. By then Justin was doing better, not nearly as pale, but was walking with a noticeable limp.
At least tomorrow all we had was Machu Picchu and we could very easily take the bus there. There was no need to climb a few thousand stairs through the same thing we had been walking through for 2 days just to meet at the same gate. Besides we has pre-purchased our tickets to WaynaPicchu and that was already a promise of a couple thousand steps anyway. As much as I'm sure my backside would appreciate the workout, I wasn't really in a rush to climb stairs all day. Tonight was our last dinner with our group, who we had actually bonded with pretty well over the course of the last four days. Tomorrow we would all be going our seperate ways. Oh yeah, I remember this part, you finally start to get comfortable with people and places and then it's time to move on again.
There was some complication and really pissed off group members at that dinner. We were supposed to fill out a questionnaire about our experience on the tour and give our comments on the guide. I actually felt bad for Wilson at this point. Yeah, he wasn't the best guide I had ever had, and I there were some thing about the tour that I found a bit unsavoy, but overall I still really enjoyed myself. But there had been some problem with printing the entrance tickets for 3 of the girls and they about ripped him a new asshole. I can't blame them, I would have done the same thing if I hiked for 4 days just to find out the night before I was looking to enter a wonder of the world that my guide didn't have my ticket to get in. He said he had a solution for them, but even to me it sounded a little fishy. In my selfishness I was glad that it didn't happen to us. Maybe that whole paying double paid off in the end?
Since Justin and I decided not to hike from Aguas Calientes to the gate we were able to sleep in. The others that chose to hike, would have to start at 4 am...and we all just had to stand outside and wait for Wilson until 7:30 anyway. So, we slept in.
Yes, it was just as impressive as the first time, maybe more so because it took so much to get here. It was rainy that morning and the fog had a eeire sense to it, floating above the terraces and through the ancient stone passageways. We had a 2 hour tour of the site, which I found to be helpful. Last time I came we didn't have a tour and it really does help a place come alive. Only some of the group was available for the tour, 3 of the Canadian guys had tickets to enter WaynaPicchu at 7 am so they would miss it, and the 2 Argentinian girls went with a spanish speaking group. After the tour the rest of us (minus the 3 other Canadian guys) had entrance to hike Waynapicchu as well. Not that it would really matter, with the fog as thick as it was, there was a slim chance we would see anything. It didn't matter we would climb it anyway.
That is exactly what we did, with Justin's hurt leg and everything. We kept hoping that we would get a great view but the clouds never really did break for us. After climbing around the top for a while we decided to head down to take a few more pictures and then get back to Aguas Calientes so Justin could buy some blankets. That boy and his blankets. I just didn't have the heart to say no...I mean, he fell off a railroad track, the least I could do was oblige to his desire to buy blankets. We should have plenty of time to get down and wander around the ruins a bit and still have time to shop before we get on the train.
We hadn't gone very far down the path when we saw a trail that said something about caverns. I didn't hike that trail last time and had no idea where it took us. So we decided to go for it. Besides, we had plenty of time. How far could this be anyway? About an hour into it, I could feel Justin's anger burning into the back of my skull and I was pretty sure he was contemplating punching me in the kidney and leaving me along the trail somewhere. We did see a very small cavern, but nothing at all worth the effort and we still had to hike back. At this point I was hopeful that it take us back to one point near the begining of the trail. We had dropped a long way and it just made sense that we would be near the exit. But of course, I was wrong. The trail dropped and dropped, but eventually it started to climb again. Climb? What is this about? We ended up climbing practically all the way back up to the top of the freaking mountain. We legitimately hiked WaynaPicchu twice, and neither one of us was very happy about it. Because after all that, we still had to hike all the way out. The only good thing was that the weather had cleared a bit and when we got to that famous view, at least you would be able to see the ruins behing us. We just had to get there. After several long moments of silence and lots and lots of apologies on my part I think the desire to punch me had subsided. We hiked stupid fast to get to out and to the lookout. Clearly the elevation here was no longer a factor. That was good.
The view was everything I remembered it to be. Truly, truly worth everything it took to get here, again. It was still surreal. We are really standing in front of Machu Picchu...and we still, believe it or not, like eachother. Maybe this month will turn out alright after all. I guess that really must be love: liquid poop and sleepless nights and dramatic falls and blood and sweat and tears and wrong turns and rainy views....and still at the end of it, wanting to throw our arms around eachother for the self-capture that says: take that challenge, we still win. Yeah. Take that.
Peruvians aren't the tallest people in the world. Not that I can really judge, because even on my best days standing as tall as I can, I barely top the 5´ mark, but that puts me eye-level here. Normally that's a huge improvement, but then there were all those signs, and balloons and tall hats everywhere. I needed an advantage or finding him in this crowd would be a lost cause. Then I saw my opening, a window I could climb up into.
I perched up in that window for over an hour before I saw him walk through the gates. He was, in all honesty, pretty easy to spot, towering over the locals by an easy 6,8, 10". But that wasn't what gave him away, there it was, my smile signed and sealed with the one lone dimple. He saw me too and I motioned to him which door to go out of to meet me. There, 6 months, all gone with one strong embrace, a kiss that I hadn't tasted since Sky Harbor in Phoenix, and the familiar thump of his heart beat with my face buried in his chest. Amazingly, within that single moment, it felt like we had never been apart. It just felt right, familiar, safe...like home. We wouldn't have too long to stand there like that there was a crowd of people trying to get by and a very patient driver waiting to take us to our hotel. We'd be back to the airport first thing in the morning...for a flight to Cuzco.
We didn't waste a minute getting right into the swing of this traveling thing. Morning came fast and we were back at the airport, but this time we would be going somewhere together. That was a very welcome change. It was so nice to have someone to talk to, to share a meal with, to have a hand to hold. I could get used to this. Cuzco, this is familiar, kind of like I've been here before. Oh, that's right, I have. I really must love this kid.
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| chewing on coca leaves |
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| the little hill to the hotel |
I'll be honest, he wasn't what I was expecting. He was short, no real suprise there, we were in Peru after all. But he was kind of pudgy and that is something you just don't think you'll see in a mountain guide. Their job is to walk pretty good distances, pretty much every day. Maybe this hike won't be so tough.
You would also think that at this point I would have learned to stop making such superficial snap judgements about people.
His English was also not quite what I was expecting. Up until this point all of our communication in email had been in Spanish, so this poor guy had been subject to my written Spanish for 2 months. For some reason, I just assumed that his English would be better than my Spanish, not so much for me, but for Justin. I was wrong. He had an interesting rhythm when he spoke and had picked up some odd phrases from somewhere along the way that he liked to throw around. But I think his favorites were, "Okay, my friends," "for the first of all," and "macho man."
During our meeting we paid the remainder of the balance and were given a rundown of what to expect. At that time he said our group could be just the 2 or us or as many as 12. He was waiting on some people to make their final confimations. Turns out, you CAN still just show up. He saw the look of unhappiness on my face at the mention of 12 people in a tour. Up until this point I had been re-assured that no matter what our group would never be bigger than 8 people. I am no math whiz, but 12 is definitely more than 8. But at that point there really wasn't much I could do about it. So I just hoped for the best. As for the itinerary of the hike it would break down like this:
Day 1: They would pick us up at our hotel at 5AM and a van would take our group 2.5hours to where we would begin the trail. Breakfast would be served at a restaurant before we started the trek and lunch would be provided along the hike. All said and done we would be expected to hike about 7 hours and cover about 13miles. Camp that night would be at the base of 2 snowcapped mountains (read: cold) at an altitude of 3850meters.
Day 2: Get up early and climb for about 5 hours to the highest point of the hike, 4650meters before we start the gradual descent of 4 hours to camp at 3300meteres.
Day 3: Keep on descending and watch as the weather and vegetation changes to a cloud forest. At then end of the hike that day a transfer will be waiting to take us to Santa Theresa. We would camp there, at 1750meters and have the chance to go to thermal baths if we wanted.
Day 4: Pretty much a flat walk of 8 hours through more tropical vegetation into the park reserves and along the railroad tracks until we reach the town of Aguas Calientes. Sleep in a hotel.
Day 5: Machu Picchu (either by bus or stairs)! with a 2 hour guided tour and the option to hike WaynaPicchu. At the end of the day there was a train then bus ride back to Cuzco.
We were excited for the hike. Everything sounded great. We were told to look for duffle bags with our trekking poles and sleeping bags at the hotel the following day. We were supposed to load up the bags with all the critical things that we would need and leave the rest behind at the hotel. Oh, and to be ready at 5 am for the van. Until then we had nearly 2 days to enjoy Cuzco. We shook hands and took the streets. 5 am. See you in 2 days at 5 am.
In those 2 days I discovered that Justin had a strange fettish, albeit addicion, for peruvian blankets. He couldn't stop looking at them, talking about them, thinking about them...he had to have them. He also likes to make friends with little kids trying to sell him hats. We all have our odditites. Along with his love of supermarkets, snowcones and soccer jerseys, I guess I shouldn't be shocked by this new obsession with blankets. I think we might just learn a whole lot about one another in this next month. That happens when you travel or camp and we will be doing both. All of a sudden I'm getting nervous. What if this whole thing doesn't go well at all. People can get crazy when they are cold, wet, hungry, dirty, tired, etc. I know. I get crazy. What if he does too? What if, at the end of this thing, we kind of hate each other? I guess we are going to find out.
I was so tired. I never get much sleep the night before I know I have to get up early for something. I was hoping for a comfortable seat in the van so I could try to snooze. But since the van was packed so tightly Justin and I got the last 2 seats, up in the very front, with me riding in the middle with a metal bar in my back. Super. Our friend Wilson, at this point, is already getting in trouble with me.
Well at least the ride will be nice. The scenery should be interesting. The driver seems friendly, and at least I could chat with him a bit. I was trying to convince myself not be too upset. Maybe all these people are just sharing the transfer and then we will split up with different guides and groups? Maybe the rain will clear up and then I can see the scenery? Maybe this metal bar digging into my spine has unforseen health benefits? Maybe I am just cranky right now because I'm sleepy. That has to be it, because I was coldly judging the converstation that was going on behind me. Some girls just talking on and on and on about all the bad things that have happened to them on their trip so far, almost like it was bagging rights. I could tell by the accent...Americans. They probably had it coming. (I realize this was not nice, but that was the state I was in.) And then the fun really began. We got a sicky on board, let the vomiting begin. Really...just, super.
The ride took a bit longer than expected. What with all the pulling over to let someone out and all. I felt bad for the girl. All of a sudden that metal bar in my back and the lack of sleep seemed small in comparison. At least I wasn't yacking all along the highway.
We did eventually make it to our destination and had some breakfast. The weather had turned and it was shaping up to be a beautiful day. The sun came out, the mountains were all beautiful green, I'd had breakfast...things were, really, looking up. There were 2 more people at the restaurant who would be joining our group. This now had roll call up to 15 people. It was at this point that Wilson asked us all to get together so he could explain some things. The gist of it was that because our group was so big there would be 2 guides and we would be split into 2 groups. We would all eat together and camp together since the porters and guides worked as a team. So at that point they separated us. Justin and I were in a group with 2 dutch guys, 3 canadian guys, and 2 argentinian girls. The other group was 3 canadians, a swedish girl(the one that got sick), a british girl, and 2 american girls. The other group took off with the other guide, Ivan, and we were left with Wilson. We had a little get to know eachother session. Where everyone had to circle up and say their name, where they are from and what they do. Kind of like the first day of school. I was suprised by the diversity of our group, we really did have people from all different professions. But I didn't want to stand around talking, I wanted to get started on the hike.
My eagerness would eventually be put in check. At that point I hadn't actually done any walking yet, so it was easy to be eager. It didn't take long before I noticed that this was harder than it should be. We were keeping a pretty steady pace, but the climbing took it out of me pretty quick. I would recover alright, but then within a few minutes again I realized I was working hard. And I wasn't even carrying a pack. I just had a little daypack with water, layers and a camera. I mean, I know it's been a while since I had done any hiking, but it really should not be this hard. It was ok, the breaks were welcome opportunities to take in the view.
Before too long it was lunch time. The other group was already there along with the porters and cooks. We all gathered around the makeshift table and waited for lunch. It was a very typical Peruvian lunch, soup followed by main (rice+something else). Our drinks were warm because they had boiled to water to purify it and then put in mystery flavoring. Which, in retrospect, may explain the unfortunate liquid poop that followed me along the duration of the trek.
After lunch the 2 group thing pretty much came to a stop. We had one guide, Ivan leading the group, and the other, Wilson, taking up the tail, and all of us just spaced out in the middle. It was a big spread too. Jeannie, one of the American girls and 2 Canadian brothers generally would lead off the group and the 2 Argentinian girls took solid command of the end. Once I got over the innitial disappoinment of having such a large group, I actually found it to be pretty nice. With everyone hiking at their own pace, Justin and I pretty much felt like we were alone, except we didn't have to carry anything and camp and food would just be ready.
And it turns out, we really did have a pretty great group. As the days went on we got to know each other, and everyone was really cool. I was forced to aknowledge that yet again, my snap judgements were unfair. Everyone was friendly, had interesting stories and was quick to share a joke or laugh....and at times, it was really great to have that much support.
That first day felt like the longest, mostly because it started so early. But after lunch when Justin and I were free to hike at our own pace we had a lot of time to just catch up and talk. It didn't feel like it, with him there at that moment, but we had been apart for 6 months and there was a lot of catching up to do. I guess more on my end then on his. Most of my stories he knew about because there were up here on the blog, but he had been busy doing things too. It was just nice to finally get that chance to really hear what he had been up to, what he had been thinking about, and what he was hoping for our future together. Our future together, yeah, that sounds nice. It's not just what I'm doing here and what he's doing there, but that, still at the end of this, we both want there to be a what-we-do-who-knows-where-together.
The description that Wilson gave us turned out to be pretty accurate. We did climb all day the first day and camped at the base of this beauty. I was ready to get there. There was a small, but constant throb in my head, and I really was looking forward to laying down. Camp was a bit different. They pitched all the tents inside a big tent. They said it was because it got really cold there. I thought it was a bit odd, but didn't complain. Outside of the master tent the ground was just a mess with mud everywhere. At least this way we only had to deal with it when you had to find the outhouse. They served dinner that night, but I could hardly choke down any food. I just didn't have an appetite and I think my body was having a challenge equalizing; I just felt bloated and gross. I wasn't the only one. I noticed that most of the group just pushed the food around on their plates. Food was the last thing on my mind, all I wanted was to go to sleep.
I crawled into the tent. Justin had already started to set things up in there by laying out the sleeping pads. If you even want to call them sleeping pads. We were promised top quality gear for the trek, so I left all my stuff at the hotel in Cuzco. Granted I would have used the tent that they brought, because mine is a tiny one man, but if I had known the crap they were giving us for pads and bags I definitely would have brought my own. Besides, at this point, I had bonded with my sleeping pad and bag. Sleeping with these others just felt all wrong. I assumed that I was just dog tired enough that it wouldn't matter how crappy the gear was.
I was wrong. It did matter. I slept for maybe an hour that night. I was cold, clammy, and could feel EVERYTHING on the ground below me. That and with so many tents right next to one another, you could hear everything that was going on around you. If someone turned, unzipped anything, talked, snored...you heard it all. I don't think Justin slept much either.
I was actually glad when they woke us up at 4 am. Well, woke those up that had been sleeping. We must just well get on with it, I can't sleep anyway. We packed up everything but the tents and all gathered around the table for breakfast. I knew I should eat something, but I still wasn't hungry. That's weird. I am always hungry.
Today was a big day. We would be climbing to the highest point of the trek. The estimated trekking time to the pass was 4 hours. We had the option of paying for a horse to take us up if you didn't feel strong enough. I am not going to lie, I seriously considered it. I felt pretty crappy. Not sick or anything, just really weak. I hadn't slept in 2 days, hadn't really eaten either...and had hiked for 7 hours the day before, that and it really was hard to breathe.
But then I knew if I did get a horse I would never forgive myself. I wanted to do this. Besides, the uncomfortable, miserable, painful part is what makes that view all worthwhile. I can't cheat myself and get a horse. Besides if all these other people can do it and if my pudgy mountain guide does it, I can totally do it too.
When we were all done with breakfast we were free to start hiking. Justin and I began, being sure to set a pace we could sustain. The view was increadible, with Salkantay looming right there in front of us. The further we climbed the more majestic it looked. The valley we had camped at was shrinking behind us, and eventually both the peak of the mountain and the valley below us were hidden in clouds. The view would come and go as the wind, clouds and sun shifted. We had a lot of time to take it in...stoping every few minutes to catch our breath.
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| Salkantay in front |
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| the valley below |
We kept plodding along. By the time we were reaching the pass it would be forward progress of 1 minute to 1 minute of rest. But we were getting there. We won't be the first, but we did it on our own two legs, and we did it. That really is the part that matters. Our celebration at the highest point was short-lived. The weather had turned and it was raining up there. It was cold and cloudy, but we were there, and THAT was worth something. Breathless, dizzy, cold and wet we made it: Salkantay pass. From there it was smooth sailing, easy by comparison, all downhill.
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| Please note the elevation |
All of a sudden breathing felt easy again. Oh yeah, suck in that air. We had been working so hard for 4 hours. Working to move our legs that felt like lead, working to take a breath, working to turn a grimmace into a smile, working to remember why we wanted to do this in the first place, working to find the joy in those nauseous moments. At least we had eachother, a kind word of encouragement, a hand placed reassuringly on a shoulder, a promise that it will all be worthwhile, it will all be ok....it IS all ok, and, hey - I love you.
So now it gets easier. We have been through the hardest part and it gets easier. If only the rain would let up. Within a few minutes we had a rhythm, with our trekking poles clicking along side us. Soon it was lunch...soon it was camp. But yes, it was still raining.
There was not master tent tonight. At least we would be sleeping on grass. That should be softer than the ground from last night. I was optimistic for a good nights rest. Only problem was it was wet out and it soaked right through the tent and the pads. We got off ok comparatively - other tents were completely flooded. I still didn't sleep. We're on to 3 days now, but at least I am eating again.
The next day picked up where the previous one left off, more easy downhill. By now the group had really started to mesh, and it made the time go by quickly. The scenery had also changed significantly, it had gotten warmer, the greenery more dense and the air heavy with oxygen and moisture. We could see evidence of landslides everywhere. Sometimes they blocked our path and we had to cautiously climb over the pile of loose dirt the spilled over the path and down the cliff along side. We got to cross rivers. These were much nicer than the rivers I faced in the south, pleasantly warm by comparison and much shallower. We stopped along the way to purchase snacks. This was the mark of a true businessman, a little stand set up along the side of the trail selling bananas to hikers...when we could see he pulled the bananas right off the tree next to the stand. We joked it wasn't even his tree. 100% profit, that's the way to do business.
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| Justin enjoying some real fresh bananas |
Well, it would help until the rain started again. Which it did, it IS still rainy season here.
After a few hours of sitting around we were starting to get nervous about this transfer. We had seen 2 other groups show up after us and get picked up already. This didn't look good. Wilson, miraculously, was nowhere to be found. Actually, throughout most of the trek so far he really hadn't been around much at all. We had spent more time talking with and eating with Ivan than with our official guide. He was definately not earning himself a good tip. A van did show up, but it wasn't big enough to take us all. We were a group of 15 people not the typical 8 so we had to split up. They took as much of the gear as they could so at least they could start to set up the next camp and as many people as they could fit. Justin and I were lucky, we claimed seats and were off the Santa Theresa.
There wasn't much to the town and the campsite really left much to be desired. The tents were soaked. The sleeping pads stank. The ground was soft with mud. By now I had taken the opportunity to express my disatisfaction with Wilson when he finally did come around. My biggest complaints were about the gear. Actually, that was really all, but that was key. The size of the group really didn't bother me in the end. I think it was just because everyone got along well and we were all (with the exception of the 2 girls from Argentina) at about the same physical level and kept a strong pace. But the quality of the gear was really unacceptable. By now, Justin and I had heard what the rest of the group had paid for the tour...half of what we paid. Half. NOT COOL.
We paid double for what exactly? We paid double for the security of getting a tour? For one breakfast? For a pair of trekking poles? For shitty gear and flooded tents? For a guide that wasn't around and spoke broken English at best? We paid double for late transfers and bad seats? I was not happy about this and thought that he should know. I had trusted him and felt we had developed a relationship through the 2 months of planning, but now I was pissed. You don't want me pissed, and tired and hungry. But that was what our dear friend Wilson got.
I think he just needed a little shaking. That night we had a room to sleep in. That night we had our transfer and entrance to the thermal baths covered. That night I got an apology. That night I almost forgave it. I still wasn't pleased, but at least I wasn't fuming. That's progress I suppose.
The ride over and back to the thermal baths was bit of an adventure in it's own right. We had waaay to many people in the van and the road snaked dangerously close to the rushing river. To top it all off, it was dark with no street lamps to throw some light on the winding, bumpy dirt road. We take a turn to fast this van is going into the river...and we all die. Those thermal baths better be worth it. But of course they were.I figured it would be hard to impress me with thermal baths as I has been to a few other on this trip, but these really did take the cake. It may have been because we had been hiking for 3 days and they were the closest thing to a shower I'd had...or maybe it was the way they looked carved right out of the cliff. Either way, a couple of hours of soaking in thermal baths will put anyone in a better mood. It was a beautiful set up and we were basically the only group there. There was a series of pools that got warmer the further you moved away from the river. But the river was nice to have. When I got to hot I would just scamper on over to the river and go for a quick plunge. It was cold, but the clay-like banks were warm on my feet and the contrast felt really nice. Justin couldn't believe it when he saw it. I, of all people, was willing to submerge myself in cold water. He stepped in about knee high and said to hell with it and went back to the warm pools. I stayed a bit longer with the water up to my chin and my toes buried in the warm clay. I'm in a thermal bath on my way to Machu Picchu. Huh, that's a little surreal.
The next day was our last actual day of the hike. By the end of it we would be in the town of Aguas Calientes with the option of hiking to Machu Picchu or taking the bus. Today was scheduled to be pretty easy - a mostly flat walk and then some walking along the railroad track.
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| Ha! Dangerous? I live for dangerous. |
Please God, make sure he is ok. Was there a river there? Was there not a river? How far was it? Did he hit his head? Did he break a leg? Where the hell is our guide now?! Our friends Mischa and Frank also saw him fall and took off running toward him at the same time I did. Mischa got to the bridge before I did and I saw him jump down off the edge to whatever was below. Please God, I hope they are ok. Please, make this be one of those dry river beds...please.
I got there a second later and saw Justin standing (good sign) with his feet in the little bit of water that chose to make this a tributary to the monster flowing just 15 feet away, with Mischa standing by supporting him. I jumped down too to get the pack off him and help guide him to the edge where he could climb back out. We passed the pack to Frank who took it, and very cafefully across the tracks to the other side. Once we got Justin out of the ditch and sat him down it was time to see how he was doing. Nothing broken, thank goodness, and he managed not to hit his had in the spectacular fall between the sleepers - but he was pretty shaken. His knee took a pretty good knock and he has some scrapes up his leg. But really, all things considered, he looked alright. He was pale and a little bloody, but still able to walk. Mischa and Frank waited until he said he was sure he was ok before they kept going up the path. I could see, however that they never got too far ahead and kept looking back to check on us. It was best to just keep him moving, not to give him enough time to sit and get stiff...not give him enough time to think about what just happened. We still had a lot of train tracks to walk, I was just praying we didn't have a lot more rivers to cross.
Needless to say, I was a bit more careful from there on out. Realizing in retrospect how reckless I had really been bounding along the tracks like I had. At least tonight we had a hotel to look forward to...and a shower and some clean clothes. We were seperated from the rest of the group and were told that we had reservations at a different hotel. Apparently it was supposed to be nicer and soften that blow of double the cost. All I cared was that it was quiet and there was a hot water. I left Justin in the room while I went to get our bags with Wilson. They had been sent with a train so we didn't have to carry the duffle bags. We had just enough time to shower up and meet the group for dinner. By then Justin was doing better, not nearly as pale, but was walking with a noticeable limp.
At least tomorrow all we had was Machu Picchu and we could very easily take the bus there. There was no need to climb a few thousand stairs through the same thing we had been walking through for 2 days just to meet at the same gate. Besides we has pre-purchased our tickets to WaynaPicchu and that was already a promise of a couple thousand steps anyway. As much as I'm sure my backside would appreciate the workout, I wasn't really in a rush to climb stairs all day. Tonight was our last dinner with our group, who we had actually bonded with pretty well over the course of the last four days. Tomorrow we would all be going our seperate ways. Oh yeah, I remember this part, you finally start to get comfortable with people and places and then it's time to move on again.
There was some complication and really pissed off group members at that dinner. We were supposed to fill out a questionnaire about our experience on the tour and give our comments on the guide. I actually felt bad for Wilson at this point. Yeah, he wasn't the best guide I had ever had, and I there were some thing about the tour that I found a bit unsavoy, but overall I still really enjoyed myself. But there had been some problem with printing the entrance tickets for 3 of the girls and they about ripped him a new asshole. I can't blame them, I would have done the same thing if I hiked for 4 days just to find out the night before I was looking to enter a wonder of the world that my guide didn't have my ticket to get in. He said he had a solution for them, but even to me it sounded a little fishy. In my selfishness I was glad that it didn't happen to us. Maybe that whole paying double paid off in the end?
Since Justin and I decided not to hike from Aguas Calientes to the gate we were able to sleep in. The others that chose to hike, would have to start at 4 am...and we all just had to stand outside and wait for Wilson until 7:30 anyway. So, we slept in.
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| Most of our salkantay trek group with a cloudy WaynaPicchu in the background |
That is exactly what we did, with Justin's hurt leg and everything. We kept hoping that we would get a great view but the clouds never really did break for us. After climbing around the top for a while we decided to head down to take a few more pictures and then get back to Aguas Calientes so Justin could buy some blankets. That boy and his blankets. I just didn't have the heart to say no...I mean, he fell off a railroad track, the least I could do was oblige to his desire to buy blankets. We should have plenty of time to get down and wander around the ruins a bit and still have time to shop before we get on the train.
We hadn't gone very far down the path when we saw a trail that said something about caverns. I didn't hike that trail last time and had no idea where it took us. So we decided to go for it. Besides, we had plenty of time. How far could this be anyway? About an hour into it, I could feel Justin's anger burning into the back of my skull and I was pretty sure he was contemplating punching me in the kidney and leaving me along the trail somewhere. We did see a very small cavern, but nothing at all worth the effort and we still had to hike back. At this point I was hopeful that it take us back to one point near the begining of the trail. We had dropped a long way and it just made sense that we would be near the exit. But of course, I was wrong. The trail dropped and dropped, but eventually it started to climb again. Climb? What is this about? We ended up climbing practically all the way back up to the top of the freaking mountain. We legitimately hiked WaynaPicchu twice, and neither one of us was very happy about it. Because after all that, we still had to hike all the way out. The only good thing was that the weather had cleared a bit and when we got to that famous view, at least you would be able to see the ruins behing us. We just had to get there. After several long moments of silence and lots and lots of apologies on my part I think the desire to punch me had subsided. We hiked stupid fast to get to out and to the lookout. Clearly the elevation here was no longer a factor. That was good.
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| why did you make me hike WaynaPicchu TWICE?! |
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| We're still smiling...and that IS MachuPicchu back there |
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