Welcome to Huaraz: Back In The Andes For One Last Push!

The city of Huraz, unspectacular, although it would be difficult to build a city that wouldn't be overshadowed by the beauty of the massive snowcapped mountains ringing it.

          Don't get me wrong, I love Lima. Its a great city full of incredible food, interesting little neighborhoods, and it pulses with a vibrant Pacific Latino culture. After several weeks in the chilly winds of the high Andes, I decided that I was going to spend my last two weeks there relaxing by the beach and taking it easy. Then I remembered. I HATE relaxing! Its so... boring.
          So I packed up and headed to Huaraz, about 8 hours north by bus. This little town is a global trekking and climbing hub, containing the Cordillera Blanca stretch of the Andes (home to 33 major peaks over 5,500m and 260 glaciers). Most of these peaks are extremely technical, and require the correct season for ascent (not the rainy season that Peru is currently in the midst of). I wasn't quite sure about what I specifically wanted to do once I got to Huaraz, but I knew it involved mountains and walking.
           My bus arrived in the sleepy grasp of early Sunday morning. Most of the shops were closed, and there was very little activity as I explored. The town itself has almost no historically significant buildings since a massive earthquake leveled the town and killed tens of thousands in the 1970's. As a result, the squat little town is composed almost entirely of terribly rendered modern architecture. I have to admit though, any town would be hard pressed to compliment the incredible beauty of the surrounding snowcapped peaks. Thankfully, I got the information I needed to make a decision on my choice of mountain activities the first day, making my Huaraz stop over blissfully short.
        I decided to head out to the famous Lake 69, about an hour and a half outside the city, then combine that trip with the Santa Cruz trek through a short section of the mountains in the area. With a day at Lake 69, and an estimated 3-4 days needed for the Santa Cruz trek, this seemed to be the perfect way to fill my remaining time in Peru! So I re-packed my bags, mentally got myself prepped for a few exhausting days at high altitude and went to sleep early... I had some long days ahead!

Some more of the tropical glaciers that stand watch over the little valley.

I ran into some really incredible street art... Its amazing to me that people dedicate their time and effort to make a mural like this that is free for the public to enjoy. That really makes it that much more special and moving.

More great street art near the downtown area.

El Gato.

El Perro. This little dog caught my attention when I caught sight of his eyes. They are pure blue, shocking eyes... this picture really doesn't do it justice.

Clouds swirl around the tall peaks across the valley.

A sunset lights up the mountains in beautiful ways!

Lima Round 3: Reunited With Eddie!

The beautiful coastline south of Lima in Puerto Viejo on a rare cloudless day.

       Lima. The capital of Peru. I never would have guessed that I would be here, much less for the third time. Even less for the third time in a year. I caught a bus from Arequipa almost as soon as I got back to the city, heading for Lima and the promise of a warm sunny coastline complimented by cold pisco sours.

        I arrived and got into contact with my old room mate, Eduardo, who was visiting family while on break from university. It was so great to see him and his family again, especially since he hosted me in my first trip abroad, so coming back on round two felt like a really good way to cap it all off.

We of course got up to our old shenanigans.

            We ended up surfing with some of his old school buddies and their friends off the Costa Verde, below the cliffs of Miraflores in Lima. Despite putting on sunscreen 3 times before getting in water for a couple of hours, I was still incredibly sunburned everywhere my neon green wetsuit failed to cover. Still, after months in the mountains where its cold and rainy, a little cool water and hot sun made a world of difference! 

            A couple of days later, he showed up in front of my hostel and told me to get in.. so of course I dropped what I was doing and hopped in. We ended up going to an incredible Afro-Peruvian concert in a really nifty old bar in the trendy Barranco neighborhood of Lima. The entire crowd was animated as the old band played everything from guitars, to box drums to sheep's jaws. I looked kinda random to be honest, but the rhythms they produced were fascinating, and melded together perfectly to get everybody movin to the tunes. We had planned to head to a beach down south to body board a bit, but after the concert ended we looked at our watches and decided to put that on hold. 

           A couple of days later, we finally got around to heading down south. We drove about an hour to wide sandy beach of Puerto Viejo, expecting some massive waves from a big storm we heard was churning way out to the west... And... Nothin! The waves lapping at the deserted beach were mediocre to small at best. I didn't mind but Eduardo was pretty mad. Anyhow, we made the best of it and hopped in the water to catch what waves we could. In about an hour, our personal paradise got flooded with fellow minded folks. Then the water got pretty crowded with surfers... So after a few hours we decided to pack it in and go get some lunch back in Lima. We might not have caught the monster waves we thought, but it was still a great sun soaked day at the beach.

             Later that night I said my goodbyes to Eduardo, who planned to spend his last day in Lima with his family, and headed back to my hostel. It was an exhausting visit, but one I will never forget!

So the only wetsuit they had was this one... They said that at least when I died they would be able to find my body, although they probably wouldn't try anyways haha... Ahhh rockin it in South America!

Surfers get ready to catch the waves

Practice on baby waves makes you better on the big ones!

Hmm I wonder what folks tend to do here... Im guessing it might involve beer haha.

The signs are incredible.... This one is 4 stories high, 3D, and just all around incredibly entertaining... Eduardo tells me that the signs have been toned down in recent years, and that when he was a kid, every sign had a really sexy nearly naked woman on them... but, they were causing too many accidents.

At our Afro-Peruvian concert.

The band uses all traditional instruments, melding their sounds to create some mind boggling rhythms.

Playing a sheep's jaw in a club in Barranco Lima.

Eduardo knows that the job of pourer is no joke, and with the way Peruvians drink, I believe him!

Something about the red flags, crazy surf, spiky rocks, and the large signs that read "PELIGRO!" everywhere... I assume this is not the place I want to casually swim. 15 minutes later it was swarmed with little Peruvian kids. So much for safety.

We made it to the beach and... Eduard is incredibly mad! He was told that swells from a massive storm in the central Pacific were supposed to hit early this morning, but it looks almost too calm at the moment... It did get a bit better later on though!

Arequipa: A Week in the White City

On my walking tour of the city we visited an alpaca factory where they had demonstrations of traditional fiber work. I have seen old ladies sitting on the roadside in high mountain pass villages working these spindles with their brilliantly colored yarn, it was cool to see it up close!

         I had seen postings from friends who had passed through Peru's second largest city, situated in the high desert just below the Andes. A lot of them raved about the city. I spent about a week in and out of this town, staying for a day or so before I hopped out to explore the incredible array of nature adventure activities that are within easy reach from here. So to say the least I wasn't all that interested in the city itself, I was focused more on bagging my first 20,000ft peak and hiking the world's second deepest canyon. 

          I will say this however: Personally, I found the city to be a little lackluster. Its a great jumping point for all kinds of adventure, with two accessible peaks (Chachani at 6000m, and Misti at 5800m) and the world's second deepest canyon, Colca, a few hours away by bus. There are also tons of opportunities to go rafting, zip lining, etc, etc. (all posted in thousands of tour guide shops splattered across the downtown like a plague).

       The city itself is called the "White City" because its historic center is made from carved local volcanic rock. It is more of a grey color than white. The other Americans I met seemed to agree that the grey tint of the rocks, combined with (what is really quite standard) wrought iron grills over most of the windows, reminded us a bit too much of a prison. And most of the buildings looked like that. The city has few incredible architectural monuments, although the cathedral in the main square is quite well done. Apart from that, the majority of the buildings have a squat, grey look about them.

One highlight of the city is that the food is good, with close proximity to both the coast and mountain cultures, there is often a great fusion of the styles. I usually can't afford the types of places where you would notice this since I go more for the six sole special of the day so I can save my money for more interesting stuff. Like climbing snowcapped volcanoes or hiking super canyons. WAY more fun than spending that money on a rich meal in my opinion. I did however climb out of my slummy lunch places a couple of times to sample the finer portions, and I gotta say that I was pleasantly surprised!

            The day after I got down from Chachani, I  managed to crawl out of bed in time for a free walking tour (despite what I was pretty sure was developing frostbite from my mountain climbing). Unfortunately, the tour itself was pretty lackluster compared to other tours I've taken in the region. It avoided the main square, but it did take us to a pretty cool collective llama and alpaca wool factory. Here the guide walked us through the process of making all those pretty scarves and sweaters you can buy EVERYWHERE in Peru. From live exhibitions of the types of Alpacas (which, fun fact, are members of the camel family... so yeah, that explains why they look funny and spit a lot), to mountains of sheared wool in all of its natural 33 colors, to demonstrations of traditional herbal dyeing and weaving techniques, this part of the tour was really cool.

              During the tour, I managed to meet some really fun Aussies staying at another hostel. We met back up and I passed on a few tips for Cusco later that night over a fine 5 sole meal of tallarin saltado at a sketchy Chinese restaurant downtown. Still exhausted from Chachani, I declined an offer to go back to their place for drinks, and instead I went back to pack my bags for an early morning departure for Colca Canyon (about 6 hours by bus). I feel like I did Arequipa an injustice by my lack of enthusiasm for the city itself, but its hard to appreciate cramped concrete quarters when the magnificent wilderness of the Peruvian Andes is calling on every horizon. Perhaps another time I can return to romance the city as she deserves.                   But... not this time. Off to COLCA CANYON!

The bright peachy coloring here in the main cathedral felt... out of place to say the least.

The main cathedral in a bright clear morning!

Chachani Peak in all of its 6000m glory peaking out from behind some clouds, as seen from the courtyard of the San Franciscan Monestary.

[In Dark Knight Batman Voice] "Sometimes you have to be the hero Arequipa NEEDS, but not the hero Arequipa WANTS."     Dununununununaaaa Alpaca Man!

Plenty of graffiti here! Sadly no large murals.

The "European" white walled streets of Arequipa's oldest neighborhood.

A little baby alpaca. Baby alpaca wool actually comes from the first shear of an alpaca's life, around their second birthday. If you sheared it earlier the baby would die of exposure in the harsh weather of the Andes.

A type of Alpaca known as the "Bob Marley" alpaca for its dread-locked appearance.

Spindles and the natural sources of their coloring.

A line of Alpaca wool yarn, hung up to display its many colors derived from natural sources of dye.

My guide describes the importance of the geometric patterns found in Peruvian weavings.

A fanciful gargoyle sits perched above the streets, waiting for a rainy day.

The Arequipa Cathedral

A plaque on the wall of the Arequipa Cathedral.

Literally a mountain of Alpaca fur waiting to be sorted at the factory... women are used to sort it because they can better discern the quality of fibers by touch alone. There are also 33 natural colors.

Arequipa is located southwest of Cusco, where I was working for about a month. Its on the western edge of the Andes, situated in the high desert with easy access to the coast.

Chachani: Climbing in the Playground of the Gods

This, my friends is the view from the top. This is looking from the peak of Chachani Volcano towards the sister volcano across the canyon below, Misti. 

I ached. My head was spinning. I was doing my best to keep my consciousness as I chased a breath that seemed always at the verge of escaping. Altitude was the mistress of this domain, and she ruled over it cruelly. I looked up, the few hundred meters left till I reached the summit seemed impossible to overcome. So I lowered my head.

 Right foot. Left foot. Ice Axe. Repeat. 

              Most people who come to Arequipa, Peru's second largest city, head directly for Colca Canyon. It is the world's second deepest canyon and is easily accessible, making it prime backpacker territory. I had other plans. I noticed that there was a non-technical 6000m volcano that could be accessed from the city, and that the prices for an expedition was reasonable enough to entice me. After spending a quiet morning in town, I hopped from agency to agency until I found a group that was leaving the next day, and for the right price too! I signed myself up, extremely nervous to say the least since this was the biggest mountain I had ever attempted. Its higher than any peak in the U.S..  Its higher than Kilimanjaro. 

                   I had been living in Cusco, which is 3500m, for the last few weeks so I figured that I was fairly well acclimatized, or at least as good as I was gonna get in the time I had left. So I packed my bag and caught an early night's restless sleep. In the morning, the guide collected me from my hostel and I met my two other companions. They were a pair from Austria, Gerhard and Maria (there was no end to the Biblical jokes since our guide was named Jesus). We all crammed in the Land Cruiser, and set off for the mountain we had all been dreaming about.

               It was nearly a 3 hour drive from downtown Arequipa to the start of our trek at 4900m. The majority was on dirt roads that passed through a reserve of Vicuna and Huanaco, which are the two wild cousins of Alpaca and Llama. We reached the start of our hike at the same time as a snow thunderstorm. The landscape before us was lunar, with a massive crater splattered with massive red boulders being lit by  lightning stabbing through the thick snowfall. We hiked over the boulder field, passed an ancient pre-Incan settlement,  and reached the flat plain that made up our base camp somewhere right above 5000m.

              We hurried to set our tents up and dove in for cover from the storm outside, while our guide cooked us an early dinner of soup and tuna spaghetti. We reluctantly popped out for our brief meal, where we were joined by a curious fox silently prowling the edges of our camp. After our dinner, we prepped our bags and headed for an early night in for our 3am departure time. The day ahead of us promised to be a challenging one.

         The temperatures dropped rapidly with the sunset, and a fresh snowstorm engulfed our little camp.  As long as we huddled inside our tents we were chilly, but fine. At one point, Gerhard nearly got lost in the blizzard as he went out to use the toilet but couldn't find his tracks back because of the torrential snowfall. Luckily he made it back to camp with some assistance. The cold night could have been extremely unpleasant, but my zero degree sleeping bag did the trick and I stayed fairly cozy. After a fitful sleep, we woke up at 2am to prepare. Jesus, the guide, waved us down. Due to the snowstorm, we waited till nearly four before leaving the tents.

                    We quickly ate a simple breakfast of bread and dulce de leche (basically milk mixed with caramel), and gulped down a hot cup of tea. We threw on our packs, and started off single file across the windswept plain towards the start of the climb. We started a series of switchbacks, reaching a spiny outcrop of boulders as the sun climbed high enough to tuck away our headlamps. We picked our way through the rocks, the wind sweeping around us in the rosy light of dawn.

                      We rounded a boulder the size of a small house, then made our way along the mountain face towards a series of switchbacks. They seemed to go on forever, and a headache was making itself prominent as the air slipped from my lungs. It was plodding, heavy work. The switchbacks themselves could be describes as gentle, and our crampons would have made easy work of them if it wasn't for the altitude. At this point we were over 5600m. The snow got thicker, and a now strong sun caused us to loosen our jackets and scarves. 

Feeling altitude sickness coming on, and desperately wanting to finish this hike, I took a slow and plodding pace. I was following the advice of my Australian mountain climbing friend (the one who got me started on this whole climbing thing) Alex, "Walk with your heartbeat mate." Slowly but steadily, we ate up the meters until we finally got to the cusp of the crater that marked the summit. We laid down for a few minutes and set our gear down for a break before the last quick march to the crest. I tried my best not to fall asleep, as lack of oxygen was taking its toll on my body. I was tired, disoriented, and dealing with a massive headache. 

We got up, and trudged the final hill to the summit, marked by a pair of iron crosses. I pity the poor bastard that had to carry those up. The view from the top was simply stunning. We were high above most of the clouds, joined across the plains by other volcanoes of similar heights poking through the white mantle. The earth sloped away visibly, and the sky was an inky shade of blue above us. After a few minutes of picture taking, we decided it was best to head back down since some clouds were advancing on our perch, threatening to make the hike down even more perilous. 

             We gathered our gear and set off straight down the face of the mountain, making use of the large amounts of collected snow. Plodding down was hard work, and my headache was getting worse and now was coupled with strong bouts of nausea that threatened to unleash itself. We descended fairly rapidly, but the snowstorm caught up with us. The wind pelted small hail stones against our exposed skin, stinging and cold. Eventually we reached a path of scree that allowed me to bound down the mountain much more quickly, trying to outrun my worsening altitude sickness and those little pellets. 

I reached base camp, and immediately started packing. I needed to relieve the pressure in my head, and             I knew that the only way to do that was to get below 4000m. After we had the camp cleared out, I shouldered our tent along with my pack and we headed back across the boulder field. As we neared the far lip of the crater where our vehicle awaited us, fog and snow rolled around us, with more lightening crashing. The silver Land Cruiser was a welcome relief, and with much gusto we threw our packs into the back and piled in. 

             The bumpy ride back was less relief than I had expected however. A thick fog had rolled in along the highland routes home, and it was literally impossible to see anything beyond 5 feet in front of the vehicle. Knowing that there was a large drop on one side, and wanting to celebrate my success with a Monte Cristo Cubano, I was fairly tense to say the least as we slammed around corners and blasted over the bumpy terrain. It was far too fast for a clear day on this quality of road, much less with fog as thick as pea soup!

 We eventually got back on the main roads and cleared the fog as we descended back into civilization and comfort. I took a moment to look back. Chachani was wreathed in a white veil of clouds. So I did what I had to do. I looked forward. That journey was done, that experience was had, now it was time to plan the next one! 

As we leave town, Chanchani Volcano looms over the city, barely visible from its thick mantle of clouds.

Misti Volcano as seen from our drive up to the starting point of our trek.

A wild Vicuna grazing in the reserve that surrounds Chanchani Volcano. These are the smallest cousins of the llama, they are totally wild, and can only be caught and sheared every two years. Their wool is some of the finest in the world, making coats made from it several thousand dollars.

The volcano crater below Chanchani.

Red rocks and boulders the size of mobile homes line the inside of the crater.

This picture was originally much darker (thanks a lot google), which showed the intensity of the snow thunderstorm (yes you read that correctly) we started in.

The view down from base camp.

Our base camp with Chachani looming overhead.

Life is fragile at 5000m, this is one of the few plants that were to be found here, clinging on despite the cold and lack of nutrients.

Ancient lava floes had left incredible colors along the valley.

Our base camp, huddled against the driving snow.

During a break in the storm a fox came to investigate!

Zorro is how you say fox in Spanish. This little guy made a great mascot.

This little fella was stealing the show all day!

Our tracks leading up the hill away from our basecamp as we make final checks of gear in the icy morning, the sun slowly chasing us over the mountains.

Sunrise at 5200m.

Another volcano, the only one bigger in the area, weighing in at 6300m.

The stunning beauty was worth it!

A view from the top of Chanchani Volcano of it's sister, Misti Volcano

Two crosses mark the peak of Chanchani. At 6075m you are just about close enough to shake hands with whatever God you choose to.

Me at the peak, looking slightly dazed because I was fighting off a touch of altitude sickness... HACE is no joke!

Looking back over the crater of Chanchani.

We thought our adventures were over when we got in the car, but on the ride back down the narrow, winding, poor condition dirt roads the fog rolled in. This picture shows how much you could see. Shadows. Shadows of bushes, rocks, and the edge of a cliff.