The last day of our trek opened chilly and beautiful. I slept through the night and woke up at 6:30, with the first rays of sun, and decided to sit by the river and read until Forrest and Travis awoke. I spent a pleasant hour there, watching as the sun crept down the canyon walls and filled the narrow valley with warming rays. The light brought with it the sight of ominous gray clouds resting in the valley east of us, and since we'd been rained on the night before, we figured that's what these clouds had in store for us. We'd been lucky with weather so far (it is, after all, supposed to be the rainy season, but we didn't see any until our third night out) and were keen to keep it that way, so we ate a quick breakfast and packed up early to get a head start on the trail.
The last portion of our hike was steep and rocky in most places, which made the going a bit slower. This was the day where we realized the wisdom of doing the trail backwards as we had...this would have been a steep and tiring climb for the first day of the trek, making the whole thing feel more challenging. Thankfully, the rain clouds stayed behind us for the remainder of our trek, and we made it out of the national park and into Cashapampa in time for lunch. We'd heard talk of hot springs near the end of the trail, but since we finished in the middle of a sunny day, immersing ourselves in hot water didn't sound as appealing as it had before. Instead, we walked to a little plaza in the middle of the small town and sat under a gondola for our last round of cheese and avocado sandwiches. Some of the shopkeepers stared at us as we ate, and we were visited by a few hopeful dogs, but we enjoyed our food just the same.
As we had come off the trail into the town, we were met by several taxi drivers offering to take us to Caraz, the nearest town from which we could catch a bus back to Huaraz. One in particular met us farther up the trail than the others, and followed us in his car to the plaza where we ate, even though I had told him not to. Since it's no longer high tourist season, I can see why the drivers are anxious to get as many jobs as they can, so he wasn't going to just let us walk away. Once we finished eating, we loaded our packs into the back of his white station wagon and set off down the road. He said he wanted 15 soles from each us for the ride, but between the three of us we only had 30. He didn't like that scenario at all, so we drove to a couple towns close by to see if there were any other riders to be had. We were unlucky in that department, but he decided to take us down to Caraz anyway, and we made our way down a narrow windy rocky road. This was quite unexpected for us, since we assumed it would be a short ride, but it was much more fun that way. Our driver, sporting an Argentine fútbol jersey, drove quickly, listened to regional polka-inspired music, and honked his horn before he came to any blind corners. It felt so typically Latin American, in the best way, and was a fun way to transition back to normal life.
Once we got to Caraz, we had two orders of business: find a bus to Huaraz, and find an ATM so that we could pay for it. We asked for directions from a couple people, but eventually we did find a bank where we could get money. Having restocked our wallets, we walked back to the area where we thought we'd find a ride to Huaraz, and found a taxi driver willing to take us there for 100 soles total. We were all a bit taken aback by the price, and so told him we'd look for another option. A more kindly bus driver directed us to a terminal where the collectivos that run between Caraz and Huaraz depart from, and we got there just as one was getting ready to leave. They ushered us on board, with our packs in our laps, and away we went. Price per person: 6 soles. Ahhhh. Much better.
Not long after our bus to Huaraz pulled out of the station, it started to rain. Hard. We couldn't have had better timing. It was still raining when we got back to Huaraz, although by then it was more of a light drizzle, so we donned our rain jackets and hoofed it back to our hostel. The walk was shorter than we anticipated, and when we rang the doorbell, Juan (one of the hostel owners) opened the gate wearing a heavy parka and told us he thought we'd decided to do a longer hike, since we hadn't returned yet. We laughed with him and were shown back to the same dorm room where Forrest and Travis had stayed before we left. We got our remaining things out of the luggage storage room and collapsed onto our beds, reveling in the fact that we had mattresses instead of foam pads and feeling proud of what we'd done. All in all, we hiked about 50 kilometers, over 31 miles, in 4 days' time, and we saw many incredible things. Worth it? Of course. The last time? Probably not. Hasta pronto, Santa Cruz!
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