Kat & Marty

Our first exposure to Peru was the lush Lima domestic airport. We flew in from Bogota at 1:30am and didn´t depart until 5:30am so we had plenty of time to explore all the expensive tourist shops, talk to a gentleman who ran a 300 hectare ranch retreat that provided natural cancer remedies, and drink lots of tea at a cafe. Marty went and downloaded some photos from our ipod and I sat in the cafe reading until our flight was called.

The early morning flight to Cusco was almost empty and we enjoyed having a row of plush leather seats to ourselves - especially since we felt so tired from losing a night´s sleep. Flying into Cusco was something else. We came in over a range of mountains then took a sharp left hand turn past one more peak to come into view of the colonial city that was built on Inca foundations. Our first impressions were full of gigantic cathedrals and churchs that crowd around the main plaza - Plaza de Armas.

Plaza de Armas houses the main cathedral as well as another enormous church I would usually call a cathedral. Cusco is located at 3400m so the air felt a little thin and had us panting at every step. We stayed at a hostel recommended by a fellow traveller that required walking up narrow cobblestone streets, then a street, named Resbelosa (meaning slippery - which it certainly was, especially after rain) that had stairs instead of the normal road for cars to drive up. We took a tiny room there that had a fantastic view over the picturesque city. A few inquiries soon revealed that the soonest group departing for the Inca Trail in 5 days, so we booked ourselves in to that tour then into some much needed Spanish lessons for our time in Cusco.

Our first day of lessons were great! There were so many simple things we need to say every day that had been eluding us and our teachers soon unravelled many mysteries to our eager minds. The other students at our school were really nice also and we were given a free salsa class with our language lessons that gave us a chance to socialise a little. Through some of the other students we discovered a nice cafe/restaurant on the Plaza de Armas that served delicous foods and coffees, my first brie since travelling was imbibed here.

We had a Sunday free, so joined a tour up to the Sacred Valley of the Incas and spent the day touring the Pisac markets full of handicrafts and the Pisac ruins that sit high above the town serving as part of the Inca watch tower system. From there we drove on to the Olytantembo ruins where we would return to begin the Inca Trail hike in 3 days, then finaly a town called Chichinera which had a fine colonial church that reminded me of a Maori marae with it´s rafters and roof panels painted in intricate designs of deep blue and red. This town had a small market where local people sold table runners of all things. The patterns were skillful and intricate. Thinking we could get one later, we are still kicking ourselves for not having splashed out on a nice one - of which there where many.

Our next two days were a mixture of Spanish lessons, preparing for our 4 day hike to Machu Pichu, and trying to fit in some local sight seeing. We visited the Plaza de Armas church for a small fortune (the cathdral was out of reach) and enjoyed being able to climb up into the towers and also descend into the lower rooms where a tunnel that connected the churches of Cusco was laid bare. It would have been awful for the monks trying to squeeze through such a tiny tunnel where even a small man would have to bend over double.

Finally the day arrived for the Inca Trail. We departed our hostal at 6:30am and spent an hour and a half waiting around in a full mini van waiting to leave while porters etc fussed about. We grew hungrier and hungrier and it was a form of small torture to stop for a brief moment and have one of the porters jump out and buy bread and pastries to pass around amongst his friends. We had a 15 minute stop at Olytantambo and seized the opportunity to feast on breads and orange juice and coffee for breakfast - aware we would soon be hiking. From there was a two minute drive to the hike entrance. Immediately the camp cook began to prepare an enormous early lunch of soup and spaghetti. Of course we could barely fit it in!

The first afternoon of hiking had us moving along at a fair pace along a few hills to approach the major ´Dead Women´s Pass´ of the second day. We passed our first sets of ruins, small outlying towns of Machu Pichu now protected by national law from looters and squatters. We were lucky to have porters set up our tents from which we took shelter from the incessant rain, before amassing in a straw roofed shelter for tea, then dinner (a distinct difference on this journey). Tea was popcorn and a choice of coffee or various teas including the prolific mate de coca which I actually quite enjoy. We had an early night after agreeing to be up at 5am.

Our 2nd day began with a wake up cup of tea from the porters - I could certainly get used to that! We were packed and breakfasted and on the road before 6:30am.  We had an immediate checkpoint which another group was going through at the same time. The pressure to walk hard and fast was on. Soon though the pass had everyone settle into their own pace including ourselves. The top of the pass is 4200m so as we climbed we began to feel the altitude as well as our muscles working hard. When we reached the half way point I thought we were at the pass for a moment as it seemed so high up but there was more slogging ahead. We trudged slowly up amongst a long line of porters mixed with tourists. We reached the pass at 10:00am and met up with all other members of our group (apart from a lovely couple who had decided the altitude wasn´t worth it). From there I left Marty chatting to a fellow Australian and joined a French/Spanish gentleman with whom I had a strange but fun Spanglish conversation. It didn´t take long to drop down to our campsite - one of many nestled into a small valley with a gorgeous waterfall pouring down icy glacier fed water from above. These mountain streams were carefully guided through waterways by the Incas for daily use. Our campsite was a long hike from the bathroom but we had greater problems than that when at midnight Marty woke up to find us awash in rainwater. We had to move everything from off the floor and try and isloate the small central dry part of the tent. I was a bit annoyed with myself for leaving my only dry clothes on the tent floor and having them soaked.

Our 3rd morning dawned clearish - or at least with high cloud that soon began to move in. We hiked up a much smaller 2nd pass visiting another Inca military tower ruin before going on. We visited another ruin soon after - a much larger military outpost once again affording spectacular views down multiple valleys. The high Andes mountains, at this point, reminded me of NZ mountains with their tussocks and clear streams and clouds pouring through. We stopped for lunch at a tent our porters had erected. Our guide, Fabien, told us about the Peruvian tradition of giving coca leaves to the patchmama or earth mother. It was kind of interesting but I had a huge conflict of belief so couldn´t involve myself. After lunch we spread our wet sleeping bags, mattresses and clothing to dry before a brief siesta. Our final section of the trail for the day was a sudden drop of 1000 metres. There have often been times in my life where I would consider that a good days walk by itself. At our final campsite we had the 5 soles (local currency) option of a hot shower which we gratefully took. My gratefulness soon ran out when I found they had two filthy mud covered showers to service the female side of 300 tourists and same again for the gents. My shower was brief due to a huge queue and didn´t leave me feeling much cleaner. This night we had a dinner of various dishes brought in to a restaurant type complex. After this our guide reminded us it was time to tip the porters. It was quite an unusual situation to be in as he brought our cook and porters (plus a few extras) in to recieve our thanks. We had had no interaction with them on the trip whatsoever despite friendly overtures and even shaking our hands there was no eye contact. Something wasn´t right and when we saw one of our porters lining up at another table I think we all felt a bit gipped - and needlessly as we were generous with our financial thanks. Then again, we may have been more generous if the porters managed to put up our tents properly. After dinner, we ran through the heaviest rain so far, back to our tent. The fly wasn´t put up correctly so was touching all four sides allowing water to pour in again. Marty spent a good 20 minutes using our spare rope we conveniently had on hand, to tie up the fly in a more useful manner. He used a rubbish bag and his rain poncho to stop the rain that was falling through the center of the roof and then we were relatively dry. We lay listening to the rain for a couple of hours, hearing it finally abate we decided to make a toilet run. The bathrooms were far from our campsite, but we were completely flummoxed to arrive at them on the very edge of desperation to find them locked. The only toilet room that wasn´t locked was full, wall to wall, with sleeping porters and they told us where to go pretty quickly. After running around for a while we finally used the tree method (not so good in a big campsite like this one) and finally managed an hour or two´s sleep.

The 4th morning was madness. We recieved a wake up call at 4am - no cups of tea this morning - and when I came out of the tent with my bag packed all the other tents were down and the rest of our group were halfway through their breakfast. We ate as fast as possible then joined the queue to get through the control gate that opened at 5am. We were about halfway along the queue but once through the gate we all bolted. Every single group was the same, everyone were going hell for leather for the sun gate and the first view of Machu Pichu. I was determined not to be left behind as I was the slowest in our group, so I huffed and puffed away behind everyone. What a waste of time! We got there and all that could be seen was white. The cloud was so thick we could barely see 10 meters down the trail. Our group hardly paused, we all kept right on walking straight down into the ruins. We went and dropped our backpacks off at a storage hut then Fabien talked us through the major points of the ruins, the royal tomb, the 3 windows (?!?) special because of their relation to the sun at solstices, the architecture (for which the Incas are so famous), the sun dial (used for seasons rather than time) and finally two mirrors or shallow pans of water that were supposed to reflect certain constallations at certain times of the year. We were then given the day to ourselves until 3pm when we were to meet our guide in the town of Agua Caliente (Hot Water) far below. Marty and I wandered around a little and took a few photos through the clouds then went down to the cafe for a coffee or two in the hope of gaining some energy after our second sleepless night. We almost didn´t go back into the ruins but at midday decided to go for one final look and were so glad to have made that decision. The clouds had completely pulled away leaving the entire stunning vista on show. We took lots of photos before walking around to see an Incan bridge. The walk took us along a 1000m drop to the river below. Looking over gave me a slight sense of vertigo. The bridge itself was built up on rocks across a cliff face and we debated wether the walk had been worth it. It was time to go down to meet the guide, and taking a stand against people who take the mickey out of tourists when setting their prices, we boycotted the US$6 10 minute bus ride down and walked instead. The walk was steep and we passed an entire school walking up. I was relieved not to be one of them. Little boys dressed in Incan costumes would occasionally race past us - their job to say ádios, goodbye´at every bend of the road to departing buses. You could hear their cries ring through the forest every 5 minutes. Once down we enjoyed a good lunch while resting our knees. Our guide almost slept through the time to see us to the train, but emerged at the last minute and had us all running through a market to the station where the train departed only a moment after we boarded.

We sat opposite the couple who had turned back from the high pass of the Inca Trail. Alejandra and Marcia where from Salvador in Brazil and we soon had a great conversation going, partly in Spanish but mostly in English. Alejandra ran an engineering related business and Marcia was an optician. If we can find the time we will visit them up in Brazil...

We arrived back in Cusco after dark, and after quick farewells headed back to the Resbelosa Hostal. We bought some junk food from a convenience store which we took back to our room for dinner before crashing.

In the morning we woke late and by the time we showered we were already past check-out time. Fortunately they didn´t charge us. We had until late afternoon when we would catch an overnight bus to Nazca to visit the Nazca lines. We wandered down to the Plaza de Armas and had a good breakfast at our favourite cafe there while overlooking some sort of political demonstration with army bands and lots of people in suits wandering about. The regional elections were only 3 days away and the different parties were ramping up their presentations. We then went down and visited the markets where we saw lots of plump ladies with long braids sitting on piles of vegetables, people furiously pedalling old singer sewing machines, and from the roof dried llama fetuses hanging down. In the butchers section pig´s heads sat proudly on benches next to sausages and goodness knows what else - I didn´t dare look closely. The rest of the afternoon we sat in the refuge of an internet cafe before catching our lush bus with lots of leg room and TVs actually playing movies. We were so pleased with ourselves for getting on such a nice bus that even gave us dinner, when it broke down for 2 hours. Men furiously worked underneath the bus, Marty suspected they were changing out the fan belt.

We arrived in Nazca 5 hours late after breaking down 4 more times. The terrain outside the bus window was dry and desolate. We had passed through several small very remote and islolated towns where the adobe brick buildings melded with the dusty landscape behind. Nazca was bigger but just as dusty and brown looking. A taxi driver pursuaded us to take a ride into town and ended up ferrying us around to get bus tickets for that night to Arequipa, then out to his family business for a plane ride over the famous Nazca lines. First we watched a National Geographic program on the lines. The main fact that stood out to me was that walking in straight lines was very important to the Incas. They would parade in straight lines around various things, including the Nazca lines, but if you happened to get out of line it was all your fault if it didn´t rain that year. Seeing as the land is a desert, they must have blamed lots of people for walking out of line. We then had a couple of hours to wait before they found someone to fill the final seat in the 4 seater Cessna we flew in. The ride was really bumpy and we could see dust willy willies off in the distance. Despite my trusty travel sick pills, my stomach was soon in my throat and even Marty felt the effects of the constant turning and dropping. The lines themselves are a variety of animal shapes only visible from the air. Apparently the Incas got the idea for the aerial view from taking halluciagenics which made them feel as though they were flying like birds. They used some sort of mathematical system for transferring a small pattern into a much larger one. Even though the shapes were big enough to parade around, from the air they looked quite small and I even missed seeing a couple of them. The strangest one was of a human figure that looks like an astronaut with a smile and a wave into space. Another one I really liked was a monkey with a spiral tail. The flight took 30 minutes then we were back on the ground relieved not to have had to use an air sick bag. We were given a ride back into town and turned down an offer for a 30 minute drive into the desert to visit an area where you could see mummies in their natural habitat, lying around exposed to the desert sun. Seeing all these dead people is something I am beginning to pass up. I am beginning to question if it is better to let them rest in peace.

We rested in the Nazca plaza. I lay out on a park bench with Marty´s knees as a pillow and closed my eyes. Soon he had a crowd of young boys around him asking lots of questions. His Spanish was brilliant as he answered them and joked with them. I had to join in the fun and sat up and watched what was happening. After an hour or so we left them to it and wandered the streets,buying snacks for our 2nd overnight bus ride in a row. At last it was time to leave and we boarded another really nice bus. Cial is a luxury company giving out cheap tickets in an attempt to build up a client base and we were more than happy to take advantage of their promotions. We both fell asleep almost immediately.

We woke in the early morning to see more harsh, dry plateaus and mountains stretching out as far as we could see. Everything was a burnt amber colour. We took a taxi to a hostal listed in the Lonely Planet Guide and thoroughly annoyed the driver by not taking his advice that they wouldn´t have room for us without a reservation. Actually they ended up sending us down the road to a second establishment they were running but we were very excited to be given a spotless room with clean white sheets and towels and soaps. After a brief discussion about visiting the Culca Canyon we went to catch up on some sleep.

We woke at 2pm feeling groggy and fluish. Marty was still fighting a bad stomach. We both really wanted to visit the muesem that housed the Íce Maiden´: Juanita, so dragged ourselves out to do so. Juanita is an Incan girl, probably of royal descent who was sacrificed on a mountain top near Arequipa over 500 years ago to the rain gods. Melting ice and a landslide exposed Juanita from her icy coffin to the sun and elements for a couple of weeks before she was found, still mostly preserved. Once again we watched a National Geographic program on her discovery before being escorted by a muesem guide to see textiles, ceramics and idols found buried with Juanita and other sacrificial victims archeologists had dug up in the area. As a grand climax we were taken into a cold room where Juanita, a tiny girl, sits in a chilled glass box, still in her entirety. Although the elements would soon have returned her to the dust from which she came, it felt macabre to view her and know that people are searching out and digging up her fellow sacrifices partly in the name of science and partly in the name of protecting the graves from grave robbers. Digging up dead people seems like a grisly business.

The next morning we departed on our bus tour of the Culca Canyon. I had no idea it was so touristy. The bus stopped at many villages with the sole purpose of giving us a chance to buy yet more souveneirs. When we reached the town where we were to stay the night, we were given a traditional lunch, then taken on a walk through some pastoral land. One thing that had been piquing our curiosity was the cactus people planted on top of rock walls. In the towns we had thought it was for security but in isolated fields it hardly seemed necessary. It turns out they are planted to stop the rain corroding the walls away as they are bonded by mud. We weren´t really sure what the destination of our walk was so it was a bit of a surprise to end up at some Inca tombs where a pyrimid of skulls smiled out at us. We passed on the option to visit some hot pools, resting our tired bodies instead. We did get up to have dinner and see a folk dancing show though. We went back to our rooms around 10pm to sleep, but right outside our hotel, election candidates were singing and performing at top volume. At 2am we though enough was enough. It sounded like they had left a recording on to play through the night. Marty was going to go out and see if he could find some way to stop the terrible catawauling but hte hotel lobby was locked against us. At 3am they finally stopped... and we slept for the 3 hours until our early wake up call.

After breakfast we were back on the bus for an hour or two out to a point where condors soar up from the canyon floor. We were fortunate to see 10 of them circling up, at times flying right over our heads. Apparently it was rare to see so many. We got back in our bus where we were stopped for more souveneir shopping before another traditional buffet lunch and the long drive back to Arequipa.

Back at our lovely clean hostal we booked on to climb a volcano of 5,800m that towered over Arequipa. Marty had been wanting to climb a volcano and this was the quintessential picture perfect volcano to climb. For $50 each we were given all the gear we needed including tent, down mountaineering pants and sleeping bags, a guide, dinner and breakfast and the 4X4 ride in and out again. Bargain!

We were picked up at 8amish and after stopping for water and lunches we were on our way. Another gentleman Jordi from Spain was joining us. Our guide Herman was also lovely and I think he takes first place as far as guides go. Our driver was gentle and slow nursing us over the slightly rutted dirt road. He dropped us off with a friendly wave at the 3,415m mark - a healthy start on our climb.

The air was thin and we wound upwards at a slow pace, stopping to rest every now and then to give our bodies a chance to aclimatise. My mind cleared and I remembered this was why I liked walking up mountains so much. Everything becomes simplified. One step after another, one breath after the other... Soon one´s mind is free to look at the world in different ways and from different aspects. Jordie, the Spanish gentleman with us, offered around a bag of coca leaves so we kept on up with a big wad tucked into each of our cheeks. It is supposed to provide energy and help alleviate altitude sickness. It didn´t seem too long until we had made it to the first camp, and at our guide´s recommendation, none of us had any problem with walking an extra twenty minutes or so to the second higher camp in a dim bid to make the next day easier. No sooner had we put our bags down at the second camp than a completely spontaneous snowstorm burst over our heads. There was barely any warning and in seconds our fingures were frozen as wrestled with the hire tent we had never put up before. In the rush the tent pegs were lost through an unseen hole in their bag so we threw large stones in the tent corners to pin it down. In my hurry I threw our fly on upside down causing no end of problems. It was too cold so we jumped inside and got into our still dry down pants, our warm gloves and hats and then our sleeping bags to wait out the summer storm. In half an hour the snow stopped falling and possibly in another hour a lot of it at our level had melted away, leaving a wet, soppy, irredeemable tent for us to sleep in. The guide made us a thick soup of cous cous with vegetables and chicken followed by mate de coca. We went to bed after watching a blood red sun droop down into the cloud layers of the valley below.

At 2am our guide had us up trying to force down bread with jam. At this altitude our appetites had fled. Jordie supplied us with more coca leaves but it turned bad on Marty. The flavour made him feel like throwing up. Below us the lights of Arequipa sparkled - a blanket of light in the darkness of night. Our path zigzagged a little then went straight up a rocky ridge. Each step became it´s own separate mission, the higher we went the harder it became to keep going and the more frequently we needed to stop to rest. Jordie, unaffected by the altitude left us with the guide and went ahead. As we came up to 5000m Marty started to get really ill and began throwing up. I didn´t feel nauseous but my legs were like lead and I felt exhausted. Now we were in reach of the top and sulphur fumes wafted down to repel us even more. The last few metres up to the crator were an eternity to walk, particularly for Marty as each step higher increased his nausea. I was so proud of him for making it to the top. The highest point, marked by a large metal cross was still another 60 metres or so higher so I left Marty on the crater rim and trudged up to the cross for the team. The view from the top was pretty amazing, I could see down into the center of the crator where clouds of sulphurous steam wafted up. Walking down to Marty took only a moment of the time it took me to walk up. Going down the mountain was the best! Next to the rocky ridge we had climbed up, was a chute of fine volcanic sand/ash. Our guide led us over the edge and using our walking poles we pretty much skiied down the chute in our hiking boots. It was so much fun! The ridge had taken us 6-7 hours to walk up, to come down took us less than 40 minutes and it was the fastest 40 minutes of our lives. Reaching camp we quickly packed had a small snack then took some more sand chutes down to the foot of the volcano. The last part of the hike involved hiking out over sandy and dusty paths. When we got to the car park there was no sign of our pick up vehicle. Fortunately the guide had a cell phone and was able to call the company who had forgotton to send someone out. An hour later in the hot sun and a 4X4 showed up to take us back to town where we showered and fell asleep for the rest of the day.

From Arequipa we took a Cial bus to Puno - another luxurious ride. Though a large tourist destination, Puno is notorious for being a dump. However from there it was possible to take a 3 hour tour out to the famous floating reed islands on Lake Titicaca. We took a boat out with about 30 other tourists. Arriving at the islands we saw a line of reed boats and islands, each with their own woven watch tower that allowed you to see over the back to where the locals really lived. Not in the picturesque reed huts, but in tin roofed houses with solar panels, televisions and all the mod cons. Standing on one of the islands felt strange, the ground was springy and slightly uneven. The local children rough and tumbled all over the place with no harm, the candy they continously chewed on having more ill effects than the falls they took on the bouncy reeds. The Uros first created their floating islands around 700 years ago to escape the Inca and Colla warriers on the mainland. The islands are made by tying roots of native totara reed plants in bunches to create an earthern mattress, then reeds are crisscrossed upwards over several months to create a depth of several meters. This floating island is then anchored to mud banks in Lake Titicaca. Each island can have up to 8 families living on it. If they don´t want to share their island together any longer they are able to cut the island in half and move away from each other. Though reed boats are still made and used to give tourists ferry rides between islands on, the local people were using wooden rowboats for fishing and transport. They rowed forward, standing up to get leverage rather than the back strokes we usually use. We took a ride on one of the reed boats for a price of course and joined all the other tourists in buying souveneirs. Everyone seemed very free with their spending.

A few days later we saw an expose by BBC on the reed islands. The news story conveyed that the islanders were starving, the children severely nutritionaly depleted. Food supplies from Bolivia were swept away in flash floods (these floods did happen), leaving the Peruvian people, just across the border, destitute. It went on to describe how only the lucky ones could get work to earn up to one dollar a day. The camera showed a family outside a reed hut sitting around a cooking fire, the children being dished out some sort of root vegetable. Marty and I were stunned. Only 3 days before, we had seen the Puno markets overflowing with fruits and vegetables and grains. Our tour group - the last of that particular day, had given at least $150US straight into islander hands, and our tour boat was only one of many daily tours. We know the islanders live in reasonable housing, not the reed huts they greet the tourists from, and it seemed to us any nutritional deficincies in the children were more likely to be caused by an overindulgence in coca cola (evidenced by piles of empty soda bottles) and candy rather than inability to access proper food. Our faith in BBC news was severely tried. 

In the morning we rose early, leaving the dusty streets of Puno behind and took a much rougher bus over the border to Bolivia - no leather seats or toilets in the back of this one. Driving along the shores of Lake Titicaca I looked forward with anticipation to our next adventures.