The Peruvian parodox

Forgotten photos, final thoughts and reflection on Peru, before leaving, heading onward and ever southward.

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When we begun this leg of our travels, I'd expected that we were going to pass through Peru in just a few weeks, any delay being for our Spanish lessons. Time was on our side however, so we dug a little deeper, took a look just beneath the surface, and as is often the case, there was so much more to see and do than we first suspected.

We spent a whole month in and around Cusco, the ancient Inca capital has charms a plenty and I'd head back in the blink of an eye. Close by Machu Picchu, however, is a paradox that defines this remote historical town, if not all of Peru. Its global appeal is almost immeasurable - the economical importance to Peru, one of the poorer South American countries, therefore equally staggering.

Peru's culture is one that is still vibrant and rich, authentic and intriguing, it's people genuine and warm. The villages and towns are unique, welcoming and, in most cases, seemingly frozen in a forgotten, simpler time - a sentiment that often seems to encapsulate the whole country.




In large part to this (as I perceive it), Peru has a very healthy and wholesome attitude to almost everything - the Peruvians are often labelled as 'highly conservative', but I think this is wholly unjust. They have their fun and enjoy themselves just as much as every other soul on earth, they just manage it without the ridiculous need to mimic western cultures or their more 'developed' neighbours.



For the adventurous, this corner of the Andes has plenty to offer - I found the trekking opportunities to be diverse and accommodating to all, with mountains, valleys and passes all staggeringly beautiful, all the while also easily accessible [The latter not often attributed as you head south through the continent]. In the north of the country rumours persist of trekking, climbing and mountaineering that truly rival the best in the world (I hope to be back in the coming months to fully attest to this!).




The thing is, not many visitors are aware of any of this - Peru, by virtue of Machu Picchu, has become a flyby tourist destination. Even the 'typical modern backpacker' (during a typical backpacker exchange) will simply ask of me "Peru huh? Did you go to Machu Picchu?"

It makes me want to scream! Guess what folks? Machu Picchu wasn't my highlight. In fact it wasn't even close.

But what then, you may ask, would Peru be if not for Machu Picchu? Would it have promoted its many unflaunted assets, thus becoming a diverse and desirable tourist destination in its own right? Would it have faltered, not even aware of what it had to offer?

This speculation, I must admit, is all for nought - the stark reality for me (though somewhat absurdly you may think) is that all this focus, this reliance on one thing to the neglect of all others, fits me just fine!

Let the tourists flow into Cusco and Machu Picchu - In doing so, those who are willing to delve deeper, try a little harder and travel a little rougher will be more richly rewarded.

We get to trek in solitude, wild camping below the clearest of skies. We get to travel to remote villages and towns; here we can discover that tradition and culture can exist, does exist(!), alive and well in this world - not simply some front, a gimmick for the tourism trade.

Back in the tourism epicentre, Peru, and Cusco in particular, actually deserve huge credit. With all this focus and pressure being leveled firmly on Cusco and Machu Picchu, it still does an amazing job (for the most part) in retaining its heritage and authenticity while keeping needless and invasive commercialisation at bay.

This must be a hell of a tall order to maintain; but, in doing so, Peru has managed something that many tourism dependent nations have not - it's remained true to itself, and in doing so not twisted itself into an awful characture of itself. Bravo.

The Mother of all volcanoes

 

'The majestic El Misti volcano is Peru's most known and one of
its most active volcanoes. It is an andesitic symmetrical stratovolcano that dominates the town of Arequipa, only 16 km to the SW, and its proximity to Peru's second largest city as well its history of explosive eruptions make it one of the world's most dangerous volcanoes.'

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So, as you may have gathered, we'd been larking around at substantial altitude for a fair while now, but if a chance presents itself to push your limits then it would be rude to abstain, right?

El Misti ("The Mother") 5822m, really does dominate the northerly views from the centre of Arequipa (2380m) - We had previously heard that it was a "reasonably non-technical ascent" and (un)usually clear of snow and ice all year round. This all sounded promising for a final bit of adventure in Peru, but guided two day trips were being quoted at crazy prices and, essentially, included nothing aside from the 4x4 trips to and from the trailhead and the guide (2 days, 1 night camping). Ridiculous.

Lukily, we'd bumped into an American girl, Adri, in Colca Canyon. She had made our trekking adventures seem as intrepid as heading to the supermarket - a quick frame of reference here; she was solo cycle-trekking the whole of Peru for a few months. We'd actually first seen her from a bus window while heading to the canyon, we overtook her as she cycled over a 5200m pass...

Sharing the bus back to Arequipa with her (what a slacker, right?) she proposed a simple solution to our dilemma - why not just go unguided? It was supposed to be pretty simple, we could all buddy up!

Errrrrm...ok(?)

Meeting at a tour agency in Arequipa the next morning we reconfirmed the ludicrous cost of the guided trip, then fired of the question:

"how about just for the 4x4 and we'll self-guide?"

In a commendably professional and thorough manner, the tour agent inquired on our experience and recent exposure to altitude, and then basically said "sure, that's no problem" followed by quoting us a perfectly reasonable price for drop off and pick-up.

The three of us mulled it over for all of 5 seconds before booking the transport for the suggested 8:30am start the next day. Result.

At around 10am the next day the 4x4 dropped us at the trailhead (3400m), turned tail and disappeared in a cloud of dust. The day was clear and bright, we happily shouldered our rucksacks and trudged almost directly forward and straight up toward the peak.

It was great to have Adri along for extra company, and she fully indulged us as we quizzed her (rather relentlessly) on her outrageous list of adventures. This helped to pass the time, which was most welcome in a landscape that was mainly just rocky, dusty and dry - so dry, in fact, that we were having to carry all our water for two days with us.

The ascent is a touch too crazy for a single day hike (~2500m), so our task was a 1310m climb to base camp, Campo Pirámides at 4610m. Arriving far earlier than seemed necessary at 3pm, we wondered why we hadn't started after a nice lunch in town? Unsurprisingly, there isn't much to do on the rocky, dusty and sometimes extremely windy side of a volcano.

We sat around the camp area putting the world to rights, all the while watching mice and small birds play amongst the rocks. The sun was starting to set as we erected tents and gorged ourselves on cold pot noodles (dreamy meal option to save carrying gas and stove). As it sank further still, we grabbed our cameras and stepped away from camp to enjoy to the views.

It soon occurred to us that perhaps we shouldn't have left the camp unattended with so many mice about - this epiphany did little to diminish Adri's surprise (and reaction) when she then found a mouse in her food bag! Oops!

Oddly, and unassumingly, that might have been the biggest event of the day. We'd all, in differing ways, spent a hell of a long time acclimatising and the climb had been pretty simple thus far. Our only real challenge had been adequately securing tent pegs in loose gravel and dust.

We rose early the next morning. Really early, 02:30 in fact.

Almost immediately we thought back to the previous day's early finish, wondering why on earth we were following a schedule based on drop off and pickup times suggested by the tour agency?!? We weren't attempting a sunrise summit (we'd miss that by hours), nor were high temperatures an issue at this altitude. We were simply working towards a 13:00 pickup. Idiots!

I digress, afterall, the die was now cast. We emptied our rucksacks of all but drinks and snacks, left the rest in the tents and started climbing in the near dark.

The climb was immediately trickier than the previous day, mainly consisting of scrabbling our way up sections of old lava flow. Our alternative, sections of scree, dust and scoria, being virtually impossible to gain a footing upon. The going was very slow, a lack of obvious path not helping matters at all.

We pushed on happily enough however. The early morning was eerily light due to both clear skies and a full moon - glancing outwards often, we watched Arequipa slowly coming to life far, far below us.

As morning unfolded we climbed further and further,  altitude inevitably starting to take its toll upon us. Breathlessness kept our pace down, ensured we take plenty of rest stops and manifested itself, upon myself, as a cracking full frontal headache!

Undeterred, we all breathed a (slow ragged) sigh of relief as the lava flows finally ended and we plateaued on an open dusty area a few hundred metres shy of the summit. The summit push was a simple one. We walked a well worn path, up and around the caldera's western side, to reach to top at about 11:00am.

5822m. High fives and photos. Check. Time to go down again, but before that, reflection...

Not quite ever knowing what to expect is one reason, perhaps, that I keep doing these treks and climbs. Two conflicting things stood out at the culmination of this climb, both, I guess unsurprisingly, involved the height.

Taking on board the scale was the first - The volcanos in this region are very dispersed and disparate, forming singularly or in short chains. Add the enormous prominence over the intervening lands and the resulting views from the top are both utterly bewildering and staggering. Let me elaborate a little...

Normally, at many summits, you'd be surrounded by other peaks, valleys and general highlands - you are fully aware you are high up but only via a variety of visual and elemental clues; cloud level, temperature, plant life, wind etc.

Here, however, the full extent of altitude is right there in your visual frame of reference. You can simply see the world laid out directly in front of you, 3500m below. The only comparable views I can suggest would be from a airliner window 5 minutes into flight. On foot it seems insane (and incredible!).

The second thought was all in the numbers. Glancing west, and slightly to the north, you can see a small chain who's cental peak is Chachani at 6075m...

Maybe we still haven't gone quite high enough. Yet.

A long way down... 

The end.