Day 2 of our trek was the most demanding by far, because this was the day where we went up and over Punta Union, a pass that tops out at 15,584 ft (4750 m). Starting at our camp at 12,795 ft (3900 m) around 8:45 in the morning, we slowly made our way upwards. The climb the day before was generally mellow, but day 2 had something else in store for us. Not long after breaking camp and setting out, we found ourselves on a narrow rocky trail that threaded its way uphill through plentiful switchbacks. As the trail climbed, the views in front of us improved every second. Huge 19,000+ ft mountains loomed in our sights, and pausing to turn around rewarded us with sweeping panoramas of the valley below and distant mountains on the other side.
We took our time with the ascent, stopping for water and rest relatively often. The higher we went, the more we were battered by a chilly wind, and as we ascended to an exposed ridgeline, we felt it the most. We decided to break to eat lunch and don more layers on the far side of the ridge, where the trail wound into the shelter of large boulders before beginning its final assault on the pass. Just before finding a suitable lunch spot sheltered from the wind, we looked up at a large rock face to our left and found icicles hanging from every ledge. As if we weren't already feeling cold enough, the sight of the ice reminded us of how high up we were, and justified our grumblings about the temperature.
Lunch was, again, bread, cheese, and avocado. By the time we stopped, we were all in a particularly silly mood, fed as much by the food as our relief to be out of the wind. We layered up with more jackets and hats, and since my fingers were freezing, I pulled out a pair of wool socks to cover them, which I promptly turned into sock puppets. Like I said, a silly mood...
Refueled by delicious sandwiches and ready to get over the pass, we continued on our way. Not far above our lunch spot, the trail crossed many huge slabs of rock, and our direction became, in large part, guesswork. We'd identified a notch in the ridgeline above us where we thought we'd find the pass, and so we wove our way over and up rocks towards that gap. At this point, we were all moving pretty slowly, taking a breath for every step or two. Whenever we needed a breather, it was pretty easy to just stop and look up or turn around...the views were still every bit as wonderful as they had been earlier in the day, and in some cases better, because we could see more and farther away. We measured our progress by comparing our height to another pass across the valley we knew to be 100 m lower than ours. Once we determined that we were at least as high as that pass, I felt more encouraged, since our own summit couldn't be far away.
Forrest was the first one to reach the top. He was a good 10 or 15 feet in front of me on the trail when he stopped and took a picture in the direction of the pass. I took this as a good sign, thinking he could see the top of it, and huffed up the last few stone stairs to see it for myself. The pass was a small notch carved in the wall of thick stone atop the ridge, and a sign greeted us at the top, saying that we were now 4750 meters sobre el nivel del mar (above sea level). None of us had ever been that high before, and so cold and windy as it was, we had to take a few minutes to celebrate. We were joined by a solo German hiker, coming from the other direction, who got to the top just a minute after we did. We took pictures for each other, exchanged pleasantries and the typical info about what brought us to Perú, and then he went on his way. Forrest, Travis, and I scrambled up the rock wall of the pass a bit to see what the view was like from the top. Man, was it awesome. Behind us were two 19,000+ foot snowcapped peaks that straddled the ridgeline, and below us were the valley through which we'd come and the one that now awaited us, both dotted with turquoise lagoons. I felt like I was on top of the world.
The only downer at that point was the knowledge that we still had to hike down, which was going to pose a painful problem for me. My right knee had been hurting since day 1, the remnant of a running injury from 3 weeks prior that I wrongly assumed had healed. While climbing up on a trail was generally okay, going down hurt much more because my legs had to bear my weight differently, and every step down with my left foot sent pain shooting up the outside of my right knee as it supported my body. This meant I had to go down slowly, but Forrest was feeling a headache from altitude, we supposed, and so we decided to split up. Travis stayed with me and made sure I made it through the bigger steps while Forrest went ahead to get to lower altitude and set up camp (which was still at 13,780 ft, or 4200 meters, so "lower altitude" was relative). It took me quite a while to get down, and Forrest even came back up to take my pack from me, but we finally all made it to camp right at sunset, around 6 or 6:15.
After a full day of hiking, having covered a lot of ground and been battered by cold wind, we were all pretty tired and hungry, so we got straight to dinner. Quinoa, soy chicken chunks, onions, and peppers lifted our spirits a bit, but it was time for bed soon afterwards. Forrest was the first to turn in, still not feeling in the best of shape, but Travis and I stayed outside of the tent and talked for a bit. As we stood there, we glimpsed a pair of shining eyes from behind a nearby boulder, and watched as a big red fox began circling our camp, looking for food. We chased him away, but he doubled back and tried to steal some morsels again, so we ran him off for a second time. He came back for thirds, but after that he didn't bother us anymore, and he was never lucky enough to make off with any tasty mouthfuls.
The second night of sleep was more restful than the first, partly because we were getting used to sleeping at altitude and partly because we had exhausted ourselves with the day's trek. We awoke in the morning, feeling better, to sunny skies, and relaxed at the thought that all we had left before us was two days of descent (more to come in Part 3).
A Backcountry Tale, Part 1.
Hello! I'm back from my trek on the Santa Cruz trail, which was, in a word, amazing. We had perfect weather, perfect campsites, perfect everything. Such a great time.
Our journey started on Monday the 17th, when we hopped on an early bus bound for Yanama, a mountain town on the other side of the Cordillera Blanca from Huaraz. Through the course of the 5-hour ride, we wound our way north up the valley floor to Yungay, from whence we turned eastward and started our ascent into the mountains. This took us over a pass that measured 15,639 ft (4767 m) and down to Vaquería, a small collection of buildings at 12,139 ft (3700 m) that marks one end of the Santa Cruz trail. Most hikers, especially those going on guided tours, end their journey here, but acting on some brilliant advice from Daniel, who works at the hostel where we stayed, we decided do do the trail backwards. Best decision ever.
We got off the bus in Vaquería right around noon, and snacked on some apples before setting off. The trail led down the hillside to a river crossing, from which point it slowly began to climb. We passed through several small villages and were greeted by swarms of adorable children asking for candy, cookies, and pens. The first lucky ones to ask were given the random cough drops that I had in my pocket, but I didn't have enough to make them all happy. Some gave up their campaigns quickly, as we continued walking, but some accompanied us on the trail for a while, heading home from school. When Forrest started singing random tunes, they all erupted in giggles, and some exclaimed "blanquísimos!" (meaning super white) as we passed.
One girl in particular, named Santa, walked with us the farthest, and was less interested in asking for treats as she was in seeing the pictures I took on my camera. Once I stopped to snap a photo of the landscape and buildings in front of us, and she looked at my camera curiously. I showed her the picture, which she liked, and then asked her if she wanted me to take one of her. She shyly agreed, and so I did. Travis and I tried to get her to smile, which she wouldn't do in front of the camera, but I did manage to get a picture of her laughing...the cutest one, by far. She was a sweet girl, and I ended up giving her my fairy-shaped silly band, after learning that she really like the magical beings.
Once we judged ourselves to be out of sight of the towns, we stopped for lunch in a pasture. The food (ripe avocado, creamy local cheese, and sweet bread) was delicious and became our standard midday fare for the remainder of the hike. As we snacked, we were passed by a herd of goats and then approached by their shepherd, asking for money or food. We gave him a few soles and he wandered off, but he never went very far, waiting to see if we'd feel more generous. Next, various strings of donkeys wandered past our lunch spot, which turned out to be a common site along the trail, as many guides use the burros to carry their clients' gear.
After satisfying our hunger, we continued walking, passing through an expansive valley with great views of the peaks ahead. At random intervals, to both sides, we would see waterfalls, or the paths they would run once the rains arrived, and it gave me a sense of walking through a mythical tropic paradise, something like Jurassic Park. We worked our way up the valley, occasionally met by a cold headwind, until we found a nice clearing right by a river for our first campsite, at around 12,795 ft (3900 m). We set up our tent and proceeded to cook dinner, quinoa with onions, carrots, and peppers, which also became pretty standard for the rest of our trek. The sun set early, and we crawled into our tent right after dark, which was only around 6:30. We listened to the Avett Brothers on Travis's ipod to lull ourselves to sleep, but we all had trouble sleeping straight till morning. Once morning arrived, bright and early, we were ready to get up, eat some oatmeal and bananas for breakfast, and tackle our biggest day of hiking (continue to Part 2).
Our journey started on Monday the 17th, when we hopped on an early bus bound for Yanama, a mountain town on the other side of the Cordillera Blanca from Huaraz. Through the course of the 5-hour ride, we wound our way north up the valley floor to Yungay, from whence we turned eastward and started our ascent into the mountains. This took us over a pass that measured 15,639 ft (4767 m) and down to Vaquería, a small collection of buildings at 12,139 ft (3700 m) that marks one end of the Santa Cruz trail. Most hikers, especially those going on guided tours, end their journey here, but acting on some brilliant advice from Daniel, who works at the hostel where we stayed, we decided do do the trail backwards. Best decision ever.
We got off the bus in Vaquería right around noon, and snacked on some apples before setting off. The trail led down the hillside to a river crossing, from which point it slowly began to climb. We passed through several small villages and were greeted by swarms of adorable children asking for candy, cookies, and pens. The first lucky ones to ask were given the random cough drops that I had in my pocket, but I didn't have enough to make them all happy. Some gave up their campaigns quickly, as we continued walking, but some accompanied us on the trail for a while, heading home from school. When Forrest started singing random tunes, they all erupted in giggles, and some exclaimed "blanquísimos!" (meaning super white) as we passed.
One girl in particular, named Santa, walked with us the farthest, and was less interested in asking for treats as she was in seeing the pictures I took on my camera. Once I stopped to snap a photo of the landscape and buildings in front of us, and she looked at my camera curiously. I showed her the picture, which she liked, and then asked her if she wanted me to take one of her. She shyly agreed, and so I did. Travis and I tried to get her to smile, which she wouldn't do in front of the camera, but I did manage to get a picture of her laughing...the cutest one, by far. She was a sweet girl, and I ended up giving her my fairy-shaped silly band, after learning that she really like the magical beings.
Once we judged ourselves to be out of sight of the towns, we stopped for lunch in a pasture. The food (ripe avocado, creamy local cheese, and sweet bread) was delicious and became our standard midday fare for the remainder of the hike. As we snacked, we were passed by a herd of goats and then approached by their shepherd, asking for money or food. We gave him a few soles and he wandered off, but he never went very far, waiting to see if we'd feel more generous. Next, various strings of donkeys wandered past our lunch spot, which turned out to be a common site along the trail, as many guides use the burros to carry their clients' gear.
After satisfying our hunger, we continued walking, passing through an expansive valley with great views of the peaks ahead. At random intervals, to both sides, we would see waterfalls, or the paths they would run once the rains arrived, and it gave me a sense of walking through a mythical tropic paradise, something like Jurassic Park. We worked our way up the valley, occasionally met by a cold headwind, until we found a nice clearing right by a river for our first campsite, at around 12,795 ft (3900 m). We set up our tent and proceeded to cook dinner, quinoa with onions, carrots, and peppers, which also became pretty standard for the rest of our trek. The sun set early, and we crawled into our tent right after dark, which was only around 6:30. We listened to the Avett Brothers on Travis's ipod to lull ourselves to sleep, but we all had trouble sleeping straight till morning. Once morning arrived, bright and early, we were ready to get up, eat some oatmeal and bananas for breakfast, and tackle our biggest day of hiking (continue to Part 2).
Rocky Mountain High
So Huaraz is really cool. I've heard it called an ugly, dirty city, and I guess I can see where that point of view could stem from. However, I think whoever described the city in that way must have been immune to the beauty of the enormous mountains all around us. The view from the balcony of our hostel is pretty plain, like any other city in Latin America, until you look up, and then it's an automatic high from seeing the beautiful peaks. I got here at about 6:30 am yesterday, and the first sight from the bus as I opened my eyes was Huascarán, the highest peak in Perú, which reaches 22,205 ft (6,768 meters). I took a taxi through the sleepy town to my hostel, called Alpes Huaraz, and hung out for a bit until breakfast. It's not high tourist season here anymore, so I was put into a 3-bed dorm that I've had all to myself for the past 2 days. Pretty sweet. Alpes has a nice courtyard at its entrance with plants and cats, one of which is a sweet small orange and white guy that I've dubbed Santiago. Can't say why, but the name seems to fit him.
After breakfast yesterday, I talked to the hostel owner, Juan, about my options for the day, and he suggested that I go on one of three guided tours in the surrounding area. I opted for a full-day trip to Chavín, some pre-Incan ruins in the valley north of this one. The tour was supposed to leave at 9, and by the time Juan finished explaining it to me, the clock read 8:50. Time to go! I hurried upstairs, packed my stuff for the day, and ran down to meet the van. We tooled around town picking up various people from their respective hotels, and then we were off, headed south. Our guide, Nilda, was great. She spoke slowly so that everyone could understand what she was saying (our group consisted mostly of Peruvians, but there were also a French couple and me), and she knew a lot about the surrounding area and everything we saw. As we drove the 109 km (68 miles) to Chavín, she explained the process of cleaning and cooking wheat grains, which we saw drying by the side of the road, and well as the history of the various towns we passed through, and the story behind the myths that llamas spit (apparently, they only spit when threatened, and when they were first brought to the Andes, their owners didn't understand their dietary needs and drove the animals hard, carrying heavy loads, without proper nutrition. One day, when one of the llamas had had enough, it spit at its owner as the man tried to haul the poor animal to its feet. Since then, Nilda says, the people realized that they had to respect the animal and properly care for it, and they've thus avoided further spitting problems). We were on a nicely paved highway for the first 35 km (22 miles) or so, but then we turned off on a semi-paved, curvy mountain road, and while the vistas were incredible, my stomach wasn't so happy. I felt generally fine until we stopped at Lake Querococha, after which point I had to keep my eyes closed for the rest of the drive to Chavín. A shame, really, because the scenery was incredible.
Once we got to the ruins, we spent the next 2 or so hours wandering through them under the hot sun as Nilda explained the significance of this or that thing as we passed it. This site was discovered quite a few years ago, but it was only last year that the archaeologists were able to leave things unexcavated...up until that point, for lack of funding, they'd spend a certain short amount of time digging up a part of the site, recording what they found, and then reburying it. The Chavín culture was around way before the Incas, and even before Christ, but they had some pretty sophisticated technologies and knowledge at their fingertips. The central plaza of the site, in front of the temples, was aligned so that it would be perfectly divided in half, sun and shadow, on the summer solstice, and it was also apparently filled with water on special occasions so the shamans could use it as a huge looking glass to observe the stars. Structurally, the Chavín buildings were made of large granite blocks brought from who knows where (but very far away, because the nearest granite quarry now is 20 km, or 12 and a half miles, away) that fit together well with thin layers of mortar in between them. The Chavín rock carvings were always very intricate and detailed, and there are still some original pieces at the site. Nilda explained that one of the greatest shows of their engineering knowledge was their use of round pillars and rooms, indicating their sophistication and good grasp on physics. She was full of many more facts that I'm sure would be interesting, but I was a little too distracted by stomach pain to focus very well.
One of the highlights and most famous parts of the ruins at Chavín are the cabezas clavas, large carved stone heads that purportedly jutted out from the temple walls at exact measured intervals. There's only one left on the wall now, but you can see the places where the others would have broken off. In total, there are 16 of them in the Chavín museum, housed there along with other pottery and carvings from the ruins.
After the touring the ruins, we went to a local restaurant for lunch. I was feeling mildly better by then, and ordered some soup so I could at least get something light in my stomach. Turned out that the only soup they had was beef and vegetable, so I stuck with the broth and nothing else. From the restaurant, we headed to the museum to give the artifacts there a quick look before embarking on the 3 hour drive back to Huaraz. I slept for a good portion of it, and awoke just as we were heading through the tunnel that connects the Chavín valley with the one where Huaraz lies. Shortly after passing through the tunnel, punctured at random intervals by hanging ice stalactites, we began our descent down from the mountains, and were graced with a beautiful pink and orange sunset. I got back to my hostel a little after 8 pm, and found my friends Travis and Forrest, who had gotten here earlier in the evening. I met these two at my hostel in Lima, where we sat and talked for a while before I hopped on the bus to come to Huaraz. Turned out that they were planning on heading this way as well, so we decided to go on a 4-day hike together, on the Santa Cruz trail.
We spent the day today getting ready for the hike, buying food from the market and working out the logistics of getting to the trailhead. We bought a bunch of bread, cheese, avocado, apples, bananas, nuts, quinoa, onions, peppers, carrots, and oatmeal for our excursion, and since food in Perú is pretty cheap, we didn't break the bank doing it. We're all really excited by the prospect of getting out of the city and into the mountains, especially now that we're set to feast like kings and a queen. Both of the guys work in Alaska during the summer, and between them, have a good deal of outdoor and guiding experience. They have all the essential camping equipment, so we don't have to pay for a commercial tour. We've got a map and a sense of adventure, and that's about all we need.
We're getting on a bus at 7 tomorrow morning, where a 5ish hour ride will take us to Vaquería, the town that is our starting point for the Santa Cruz trail. From there, we'll hike for 3 or 4 days (whichever suits our mood and the weather) at altitudes somewhere between 3,000 and 4,800 meters (9,800 and 15,600 feet), among the highest mountain range outside of the Himalaya, finally ending in Cashapampa and taking a bus or collectivo (shared taxi) back to Huaraz. So excited that I just can't hide it!
Going on this trek means, naturally, that I'll be out of the loop for a few days, but I did manage to get a few pictures up for you before I checked out for a while. More will be coming once I'm back, especially of this trek, since I fully expect to come back with a million and one more photos. Until I come back to civilization, then, hasta luego! Sending love from the Andes.
After breakfast yesterday, I talked to the hostel owner, Juan, about my options for the day, and he suggested that I go on one of three guided tours in the surrounding area. I opted for a full-day trip to Chavín, some pre-Incan ruins in the valley north of this one. The tour was supposed to leave at 9, and by the time Juan finished explaining it to me, the clock read 8:50. Time to go! I hurried upstairs, packed my stuff for the day, and ran down to meet the van. We tooled around town picking up various people from their respective hotels, and then we were off, headed south. Our guide, Nilda, was great. She spoke slowly so that everyone could understand what she was saying (our group consisted mostly of Peruvians, but there were also a French couple and me), and she knew a lot about the surrounding area and everything we saw. As we drove the 109 km (68 miles) to Chavín, she explained the process of cleaning and cooking wheat grains, which we saw drying by the side of the road, and well as the history of the various towns we passed through, and the story behind the myths that llamas spit (apparently, they only spit when threatened, and when they were first brought to the Andes, their owners didn't understand their dietary needs and drove the animals hard, carrying heavy loads, without proper nutrition. One day, when one of the llamas had had enough, it spit at its owner as the man tried to haul the poor animal to its feet. Since then, Nilda says, the people realized that they had to respect the animal and properly care for it, and they've thus avoided further spitting problems). We were on a nicely paved highway for the first 35 km (22 miles) or so, but then we turned off on a semi-paved, curvy mountain road, and while the vistas were incredible, my stomach wasn't so happy. I felt generally fine until we stopped at Lake Querococha, after which point I had to keep my eyes closed for the rest of the drive to Chavín. A shame, really, because the scenery was incredible.
Once we got to the ruins, we spent the next 2 or so hours wandering through them under the hot sun as Nilda explained the significance of this or that thing as we passed it. This site was discovered quite a few years ago, but it was only last year that the archaeologists were able to leave things unexcavated...up until that point, for lack of funding, they'd spend a certain short amount of time digging up a part of the site, recording what they found, and then reburying it. The Chavín culture was around way before the Incas, and even before Christ, but they had some pretty sophisticated technologies and knowledge at their fingertips. The central plaza of the site, in front of the temples, was aligned so that it would be perfectly divided in half, sun and shadow, on the summer solstice, and it was also apparently filled with water on special occasions so the shamans could use it as a huge looking glass to observe the stars. Structurally, the Chavín buildings were made of large granite blocks brought from who knows where (but very far away, because the nearest granite quarry now is 20 km, or 12 and a half miles, away) that fit together well with thin layers of mortar in between them. The Chavín rock carvings were always very intricate and detailed, and there are still some original pieces at the site. Nilda explained that one of the greatest shows of their engineering knowledge was their use of round pillars and rooms, indicating their sophistication and good grasp on physics. She was full of many more facts that I'm sure would be interesting, but I was a little too distracted by stomach pain to focus very well.
One of the highlights and most famous parts of the ruins at Chavín are the cabezas clavas, large carved stone heads that purportedly jutted out from the temple walls at exact measured intervals. There's only one left on the wall now, but you can see the places where the others would have broken off. In total, there are 16 of them in the Chavín museum, housed there along with other pottery and carvings from the ruins.
After the touring the ruins, we went to a local restaurant for lunch. I was feeling mildly better by then, and ordered some soup so I could at least get something light in my stomach. Turned out that the only soup they had was beef and vegetable, so I stuck with the broth and nothing else. From the restaurant, we headed to the museum to give the artifacts there a quick look before embarking on the 3 hour drive back to Huaraz. I slept for a good portion of it, and awoke just as we were heading through the tunnel that connects the Chavín valley with the one where Huaraz lies. Shortly after passing through the tunnel, punctured at random intervals by hanging ice stalactites, we began our descent down from the mountains, and were graced with a beautiful pink and orange sunset. I got back to my hostel a little after 8 pm, and found my friends Travis and Forrest, who had gotten here earlier in the evening. I met these two at my hostel in Lima, where we sat and talked for a while before I hopped on the bus to come to Huaraz. Turned out that they were planning on heading this way as well, so we decided to go on a 4-day hike together, on the Santa Cruz trail.
We spent the day today getting ready for the hike, buying food from the market and working out the logistics of getting to the trailhead. We bought a bunch of bread, cheese, avocado, apples, bananas, nuts, quinoa, onions, peppers, carrots, and oatmeal for our excursion, and since food in Perú is pretty cheap, we didn't break the bank doing it. We're all really excited by the prospect of getting out of the city and into the mountains, especially now that we're set to feast like kings and a queen. Both of the guys work in Alaska during the summer, and between them, have a good deal of outdoor and guiding experience. They have all the essential camping equipment, so we don't have to pay for a commercial tour. We've got a map and a sense of adventure, and that's about all we need.
We're getting on a bus at 7 tomorrow morning, where a 5ish hour ride will take us to Vaquería, the town that is our starting point for the Santa Cruz trail. From there, we'll hike for 3 or 4 days (whichever suits our mood and the weather) at altitudes somewhere between 3,000 and 4,800 meters (9,800 and 15,600 feet), among the highest mountain range outside of the Himalaya, finally ending in Cashapampa and taking a bus or collectivo (shared taxi) back to Huaraz. So excited that I just can't hide it!
Going on this trek means, naturally, that I'll be out of the loop for a few days, but I did manage to get a few pictures up for you before I checked out for a while. More will be coming once I'm back, especially of this trek, since I fully expect to come back with a million and one more photos. Until I come back to civilization, then, hasta luego! Sending love from the Andes.
On the road again.
So. The Magic Fountain turned out to be a whole park of magic fountains. Awesome. Apparently the whole project cost something like $13 million, funded by the US Embassy and Movistar, a phone company in Latin America. There were about 15 of us who went on the tour organized by our hostel, so we had a decent group of tourists walking around with cameras and getting to know each other: 5 Israelis, a German couple, 2 girls from Belgium (Marilen and Valerie), one girl from Tasmania (Sarah), an Alaskan (we called him Alaska), an Oregonian (Zach), and even a fellow Coloradoan (Lance, from Montrose)! There were a lot of the people at the park, probably about an equal amount of tourists and Peruvians. It cost S/.4 (4 soles, or a little under $2) to get into the park, and we stayed for an hour and a half or so. Definitely worth the money.
One of the highlights was the Children's Fountain, which is a large flat concrete circle punctuated a bunch of small water jets that shoot up at unexpected times. The catch is that children (or in our case, tourists unleashing their inner children) run through the fountain area, from outside in, and try not to get wet in the process. This is where the unpredictability, combined with wet concrete, can produce some pretty entertaining spectacles. Most of us managed to run there and back without getting wet, because you can stand in the middle and you won't get sprayed, but a couple people were the soggy victims of bad timing and slippery flip flops...they were falling down and getting nailed by water, but everyone was giddy and laughing about it.
At the end of our tour around the park, we watched a 15-minute show with some pretty cool light effects and a video projected on the jets of water. Not quite sure how that one worked, but it was pretty neat.
After getting back to the hostel, Lance, Zach, Sarah and I decided we were hungry, so we ventured out for some food. The boys had a short amount of time to catch a bus to Huaraz, so they opted for a quick Burger King feast. Neither Sarah or I were feeling the burgers, but we sat and talked with Lance and Zach while they ate. Once they ran off to the bus terminal, Sarah and I kept walking around looking for some more appetizing food. We ended up wandering down the Pizza Street, which turned into a hilarious competition between all the doormen to get us to come into their restaurant and not their competitors'. Some yelled at us in Spanish, and others proffered some token English phrases like "Ladies, I'm in love wit chu." Ha. We walked all the way down the street laughing and basking in the attention, and then turned around until we found someone who offered us the best deal...a free drink. Sarah and I were both feeling indecisive, so that was as good a motive as any to choose a restaurant. We proceeded to sit there for almost 3 hours, sipping pisco sours and feasting on grilled trout with salad and rice (her choice) and papas a la huancaína, or potatoes in a spicy cream sauce with a hard-boiled egg and olives (the vegetarian's choice). She's a really easy going person and has an awesome accent (Tasmania, duh), so we found it pretty easy to get along, and we talked about a wide range of subjects. We finally decided to call it a night around midnight, when we walked back to our hostel and I crawled into bed for a short sleep.
At 6 the next morning, Carlos picked up Brandee and I and we hopped on a southbound bus to Parácas and Huacachina. Parácas and the surround area were hit hard by an earthquake in 2007 I believe, but since the area is pretty poor, a lot of the buildings haven't been resurrected and people are living in thatched reed huts amongst piles of rubble. It was a sharp contrast to Miraflores, which is a relatively clean and well-to-do area of Lima. On top of that, we had ventured into the desert, so everything was dry and flat, lending to the desolate feeling. In Parácas, we went on a boat tour of the Islas Ballestas, home to sea lions and thousands (maybe millions) of birds, such as pelicans, terns, cormorants, gulls, and Humboldt penguins! It struck me as a kind of Peruvian Galapagos, a strange but interesting environment. Once we got back from the island tour, we sat down at a little oceanfront restaurant for some lunch, where we were visited by an adorable little calico kitty (of course this is important for me...I'm experiencing cat withdrawals, although the park in front of my hostel is home to about 20 of them).
After food, we caught another bus, this one bound for Ica. Brandee parted ways with us there, as she was continuing on to Nasca for the night before setting off for Chile the following day. Carlos and I went to Huacachina next, a desert oasis at the foot of extensive and very unexpected sand dunes. We walked around the laguna there for a bit, waiting to join the next dune buggy and sand boarding tour. Our guide, Marcos, was a very friendly man with sun-darkened skin and a love for the desert. He took our group (me, Carlos, 2 guys from L.A., 2 girls from the Netherlands, and 4 last-minute additions who I suspect were from Chile) on a wild ride around the dunes and encouraged us down some pretty long and steep dunes on our sand boards. The biggest ones we did on our stomachs, but on some of the gentler slopes we tried our hand at standing up, snowboarding style. The velcro straps that held our feet in place weren't the best, so there wasn't much carving to be done, but straightlining the hills was pretty fun. We stayed and played in the dunes in the sunset, and then Marcos brought us back to town. I was really impressed by how far the dunes went. As we drove around, I felt like we were so far from the oasis where we started, but there were miles and miles of dunes we didn't even get close to. I'm not sure how those dunes came to be there, but it's definitely worth looking up.
We had originally planned to visit some wineries in the area as well, since a lot of the wine and pisco made in Perú comes from the Ica area. However, as it was already dark, we eventually decided to leave it for another time, and hopped on a 5ish hour bus ride back to Lima.
Today was more relaxed. I repacked my bags, keeping things with me for hiking and staying at higher elevations in preparation for Huaraz, Cusco, Puno, and Arequipa (an ambitious list that I probably won't complete, but I'll give it my best shot). Carlos has agreed to let me leave my duffel at his house while I travel around, and it's nice not to have to juggle that with my backpack and day pack. After reorganizing my things, we went to see a movie (Real Steel, about boxing robots) in a mall close by. It turned out to be really good, and while it's not what I would've thought to do with the day, it was a good afternoon activity. Tonight at 11, I'm hopping on an overnight bus to Huaraz, in the Cordillera Blanca, home to massive mountains and crystalline lakes. I'll get there around 7 tomorrow morning, at which point I'll head to my hostel and figure out how best to take advantage of my time there. I caved this time and went for the bed bus, where the seats are wider and fully recline, so I can actually get some rest. It's more expensive, yes, but I'll be useless tomorrow if I don't get some decent rest tonight, and I don't want to squander any time when I could be hiking or climbing. I'm really looking forward to leaving the city and getting acquainted with some new mountains, so I want to make the most of it. Here's to a return to altitude!
One of the highlights was the Children's Fountain, which is a large flat concrete circle punctuated a bunch of small water jets that shoot up at unexpected times. The catch is that children (or in our case, tourists unleashing their inner children) run through the fountain area, from outside in, and try not to get wet in the process. This is where the unpredictability, combined with wet concrete, can produce some pretty entertaining spectacles. Most of us managed to run there and back without getting wet, because you can stand in the middle and you won't get sprayed, but a couple people were the soggy victims of bad timing and slippery flip flops...they were falling down and getting nailed by water, but everyone was giddy and laughing about it.
At the end of our tour around the park, we watched a 15-minute show with some pretty cool light effects and a video projected on the jets of water. Not quite sure how that one worked, but it was pretty neat.
After getting back to the hostel, Lance, Zach, Sarah and I decided we were hungry, so we ventured out for some food. The boys had a short amount of time to catch a bus to Huaraz, so they opted for a quick Burger King feast. Neither Sarah or I were feeling the burgers, but we sat and talked with Lance and Zach while they ate. Once they ran off to the bus terminal, Sarah and I kept walking around looking for some more appetizing food. We ended up wandering down the Pizza Street, which turned into a hilarious competition between all the doormen to get us to come into their restaurant and not their competitors'. Some yelled at us in Spanish, and others proffered some token English phrases like "Ladies, I'm in love wit chu." Ha. We walked all the way down the street laughing and basking in the attention, and then turned around until we found someone who offered us the best deal...a free drink. Sarah and I were both feeling indecisive, so that was as good a motive as any to choose a restaurant. We proceeded to sit there for almost 3 hours, sipping pisco sours and feasting on grilled trout with salad and rice (her choice) and papas a la huancaína, or potatoes in a spicy cream sauce with a hard-boiled egg and olives (the vegetarian's choice). She's a really easy going person and has an awesome accent (Tasmania, duh), so we found it pretty easy to get along, and we talked about a wide range of subjects. We finally decided to call it a night around midnight, when we walked back to our hostel and I crawled into bed for a short sleep.
At 6 the next morning, Carlos picked up Brandee and I and we hopped on a southbound bus to Parácas and Huacachina. Parácas and the surround area were hit hard by an earthquake in 2007 I believe, but since the area is pretty poor, a lot of the buildings haven't been resurrected and people are living in thatched reed huts amongst piles of rubble. It was a sharp contrast to Miraflores, which is a relatively clean and well-to-do area of Lima. On top of that, we had ventured into the desert, so everything was dry and flat, lending to the desolate feeling. In Parácas, we went on a boat tour of the Islas Ballestas, home to sea lions and thousands (maybe millions) of birds, such as pelicans, terns, cormorants, gulls, and Humboldt penguins! It struck me as a kind of Peruvian Galapagos, a strange but interesting environment. Once we got back from the island tour, we sat down at a little oceanfront restaurant for some lunch, where we were visited by an adorable little calico kitty (of course this is important for me...I'm experiencing cat withdrawals, although the park in front of my hostel is home to about 20 of them).
After food, we caught another bus, this one bound for Ica. Brandee parted ways with us there, as she was continuing on to Nasca for the night before setting off for Chile the following day. Carlos and I went to Huacachina next, a desert oasis at the foot of extensive and very unexpected sand dunes. We walked around the laguna there for a bit, waiting to join the next dune buggy and sand boarding tour. Our guide, Marcos, was a very friendly man with sun-darkened skin and a love for the desert. He took our group (me, Carlos, 2 guys from L.A., 2 girls from the Netherlands, and 4 last-minute additions who I suspect were from Chile) on a wild ride around the dunes and encouraged us down some pretty long and steep dunes on our sand boards. The biggest ones we did on our stomachs, but on some of the gentler slopes we tried our hand at standing up, snowboarding style. The velcro straps that held our feet in place weren't the best, so there wasn't much carving to be done, but straightlining the hills was pretty fun. We stayed and played in the dunes in the sunset, and then Marcos brought us back to town. I was really impressed by how far the dunes went. As we drove around, I felt like we were so far from the oasis where we started, but there were miles and miles of dunes we didn't even get close to. I'm not sure how those dunes came to be there, but it's definitely worth looking up.
We had originally planned to visit some wineries in the area as well, since a lot of the wine and pisco made in Perú comes from the Ica area. However, as it was already dark, we eventually decided to leave it for another time, and hopped on a 5ish hour bus ride back to Lima.
Today was more relaxed. I repacked my bags, keeping things with me for hiking and staying at higher elevations in preparation for Huaraz, Cusco, Puno, and Arequipa (an ambitious list that I probably won't complete, but I'll give it my best shot). Carlos has agreed to let me leave my duffel at his house while I travel around, and it's nice not to have to juggle that with my backpack and day pack. After reorganizing my things, we went to see a movie (Real Steel, about boxing robots) in a mall close by. It turned out to be really good, and while it's not what I would've thought to do with the day, it was a good afternoon activity. Tonight at 11, I'm hopping on an overnight bus to Huaraz, in the Cordillera Blanca, home to massive mountains and crystalline lakes. I'll get there around 7 tomorrow morning, at which point I'll head to my hostel and figure out how best to take advantage of my time there. I caved this time and went for the bed bus, where the seats are wider and fully recline, so I can actually get some rest. It's more expensive, yes, but I'll be useless tomorrow if I don't get some decent rest tonight, and I don't want to squander any time when I could be hiking or climbing. I'm really looking forward to leaving the city and getting acquainted with some new mountains, so I want to make the most of it. Here's to a return to altitude!
More Lima
So Chile beat Perú yesterday. 4-2. For the first 20 minutes or so, Perú hadn't even shown up to play yet, so Chile was in easy control of the game. Once Perú started to fight back, the game got more interesting, and throughout the course of the match Peruvian strikers managed to hit all 3 sides of the goal posts, inches away from scoring each time. Carlos and I watched the game in a discoteca, surrounded by shrieking girls, on la Calle de las Pizzas (literally, it's the Pizza Street, lined with restaurant after bar after restaurant that serves pizza). The Calle's 4 or 5 blocks were packed with people sporting their national red and white, crowding in and around the bars, whose TVs were tuned to the game. Some establishments even set up big screens with projectors for their customers' viewing pleasure. Throwback to Spain last summer during the World Cup. What a blast.
Last night I was feeling pretty worn out, so after the game, I called it a night. I was asleep by 10 or so, and got some much needed rest. This was interrupted, however, by a rather hilarious situation starting at 3:45 in the morning. Last night, I shared our 10-bed room with Felipe (Brasil), Natalie (California) and Brandee (Minnesota). Earlier in the evening, before I had gone to bed, all 3 were in the room getting ready to go out, and Natalie told us that it was her last night in the country after traveling around for 3 weeks with her bestie Brandee, and therefore she was going to make the most of it. I certainly believe that she did, because when her alarm went off at 3:45 am, both girls were asleep enough not to hear it for the several minutes of its sounding. Partly for the sake of sleeping, and partly for concern that Natalie would miss her flight if she didn't get up, I shook both girls awake and told them that their alarm was going off. Brandee acknowledged what I said, and in the course of the next 45 minutes, slowly rose to the task of rousing her still-drunk friend, collecting her belongings, and pouring her into a cab to the airport (but not before Felipe got up and turned off their alarm and a hostel employee came into the room to tell the girls that Natalie's taxi had already arrived). Natalie, in her hazy sleep-and-alcohol-crossed mind, didn't believe Brandee when she was informed of her taxi being downstairs, and groaned instead, calling her friend a liar in two languages. With a little more coaxing, Natalie got out of bed and started rounding up her last-minute items to pack, which included her shoes, "the pink and white ones..." as she insistently grumbled. I'm sure she mumbled even more drunk gems, but I was in between paying attention to their funny exchange and trying to fall back asleep. Ah, hostels...
Brandee and I ended up having breakfast together, which our hostel serves for free, and it turns out that she's a really cool person. She's a nurse who quit her job in the hospital stroke unit a year ago and has been traveling through Central and South America ever since. She's got lots of stories about people that she's met along the way, and they all involve some sort of unwritten traveler's trust that comes with hostel-hopping around various countries. I love the way this happens...in some ways, travelers are more trusting and open than people normally tend to be in their day-to-day lives. Think about it. In a hostel, if you meet someone you happen to get along with decently (which is pretty frequent if you're willing to talk to people), more often than not you'll either extend or receive an invitation to travel together, if you're planning on going the same way. When you've been traveling for as long as Brandee has, then it seems that you also start running into people you met in other places, because as she puts it, "we're all going in pretty much the same direction, right?" I just think the sense of camaraderie is so cool, and it's welcome to find a sense of community in a place where you left home for.
But sometimes being solitary is nice too, which is essentially what I did for most of the day. After breakfast, I decided to wander around more of Miraflores on foot. Since I wasn't really sure where to go, I decided to first head in the direction of the Love Park, fashioned after Parque Güell in Barcelona. It's a relatively small area, delineated with tiled walls that draw a scalloped half moon around a gigantic statue of the Lovers. The walls are decorated in flowers, moons, suns, and amorous quotes, all projected against the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean. It's a rather beautiful place, a nice bit of color on an otherwise cloudy and gloomy day. In this park, as I'm walking around taking pictures, I hear someone say "You know how you can tell that she's American? Chacos. The sandals she's wearing." I smile and turn around to find a fellow US-ian girl with her Peruvian friend. And guess what she's wearing. Chacos. They walk up and introduce themselves to me as Emily and Roberto. She's from Texas but has been living in Santiago for the past year working on a project that she describes as "toilets for poor people." Roberto is from Perú and is showing Emily around on her vacation. They invited me to go for some ceviche with them, but since I wasn't hungry, and since ceviche, delicious though it may be, is a fish dish, I thanked them for their invitation and went on my merry way.
I walked along the cliffs overlooking the ocean for quite a while, until the path naturally turned away from the waves and back to the concrete jungle. I wandered around on various streets, heading in what my internal compass told me was the general direction of my hostel, until I found a street I recognized and made my way back to Pariwana. Just as I come in the door, I run into Brandee, who invites me to have lunch with her at a delicious vegetarian restaurant. This time, I am very hungry, so we head off in the direction of Govinda, an Indian-inspired place that serves pretty tasty food. We have some veggie soup, lentils and rice with tofu, and pineapples in some kind of sweet jam sauce. YUM.
I'm about to head off to see the Magic Fountains with a group from the hostel, so more stories and pictures will come later. Sending love from Lima.
Last night I was feeling pretty worn out, so after the game, I called it a night. I was asleep by 10 or so, and got some much needed rest. This was interrupted, however, by a rather hilarious situation starting at 3:45 in the morning. Last night, I shared our 10-bed room with Felipe (Brasil), Natalie (California) and Brandee (Minnesota). Earlier in the evening, before I had gone to bed, all 3 were in the room getting ready to go out, and Natalie told us that it was her last night in the country after traveling around for 3 weeks with her bestie Brandee, and therefore she was going to make the most of it. I certainly believe that she did, because when her alarm went off at 3:45 am, both girls were asleep enough not to hear it for the several minutes of its sounding. Partly for the sake of sleeping, and partly for concern that Natalie would miss her flight if she didn't get up, I shook both girls awake and told them that their alarm was going off. Brandee acknowledged what I said, and in the course of the next 45 minutes, slowly rose to the task of rousing her still-drunk friend, collecting her belongings, and pouring her into a cab to the airport (but not before Felipe got up and turned off their alarm and a hostel employee came into the room to tell the girls that Natalie's taxi had already arrived). Natalie, in her hazy sleep-and-alcohol-crossed mind, didn't believe Brandee when she was informed of her taxi being downstairs, and groaned instead, calling her friend a liar in two languages. With a little more coaxing, Natalie got out of bed and started rounding up her last-minute items to pack, which included her shoes, "the pink and white ones..." as she insistently grumbled. I'm sure she mumbled even more drunk gems, but I was in between paying attention to their funny exchange and trying to fall back asleep. Ah, hostels...
Brandee and I ended up having breakfast together, which our hostel serves for free, and it turns out that she's a really cool person. She's a nurse who quit her job in the hospital stroke unit a year ago and has been traveling through Central and South America ever since. She's got lots of stories about people that she's met along the way, and they all involve some sort of unwritten traveler's trust that comes with hostel-hopping around various countries. I love the way this happens...in some ways, travelers are more trusting and open than people normally tend to be in their day-to-day lives. Think about it. In a hostel, if you meet someone you happen to get along with decently (which is pretty frequent if you're willing to talk to people), more often than not you'll either extend or receive an invitation to travel together, if you're planning on going the same way. When you've been traveling for as long as Brandee has, then it seems that you also start running into people you met in other places, because as she puts it, "we're all going in pretty much the same direction, right?" I just think the sense of camaraderie is so cool, and it's welcome to find a sense of community in a place where you left home for.
But sometimes being solitary is nice too, which is essentially what I did for most of the day. After breakfast, I decided to wander around more of Miraflores on foot. Since I wasn't really sure where to go, I decided to first head in the direction of the Love Park, fashioned after Parque Güell in Barcelona. It's a relatively small area, delineated with tiled walls that draw a scalloped half moon around a gigantic statue of the Lovers. The walls are decorated in flowers, moons, suns, and amorous quotes, all projected against the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean. It's a rather beautiful place, a nice bit of color on an otherwise cloudy and gloomy day. In this park, as I'm walking around taking pictures, I hear someone say "You know how you can tell that she's American? Chacos. The sandals she's wearing." I smile and turn around to find a fellow US-ian girl with her Peruvian friend. And guess what she's wearing. Chacos. They walk up and introduce themselves to me as Emily and Roberto. She's from Texas but has been living in Santiago for the past year working on a project that she describes as "toilets for poor people." Roberto is from Perú and is showing Emily around on her vacation. They invited me to go for some ceviche with them, but since I wasn't hungry, and since ceviche, delicious though it may be, is a fish dish, I thanked them for their invitation and went on my merry way.
I walked along the cliffs overlooking the ocean for quite a while, until the path naturally turned away from the waves and back to the concrete jungle. I wandered around on various streets, heading in what my internal compass told me was the general direction of my hostel, until I found a street I recognized and made my way back to Pariwana. Just as I come in the door, I run into Brandee, who invites me to have lunch with her at a delicious vegetarian restaurant. This time, I am very hungry, so we head off in the direction of Govinda, an Indian-inspired place that serves pretty tasty food. We have some veggie soup, lentils and rice with tofu, and pineapples in some kind of sweet jam sauce. YUM.
I'm about to head off to see the Magic Fountains with a group from the hostel, so more stories and pictures will come later. Sending love from Lima.
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