Huaraz and Huayhuash (Andrew)

Well, we're out of the jungle and exploring the heights of Peru. First up was Huaraz, a mountain town that has been inhabited for at least 12,000 years, in a long valley dominated by the ice-capped Cordillera Blanca. We got there from Lima traveling by bus several hundred kilometers up the coast (through a seeming wasteland of overcast sand dunes punctuated by occasional small towns and irrigated crop fields), then turning east and going up a steep river valley. The valley was much more interesting than the coast, especially since the irrigated part between the river and road was lush and green, while on the other side of the road it was utterly rocky and barren. Eventually we also saw giant squares of corn and peppers laid out to dry in a mozaic of reds, purples, and oranges. We were shooting to get into Huaraz two days before a nation-wide strike, in order to give ourselves an excuse to acclimatatize to Huaraz's 3000 meter elevation without feeling bad for not immediately getting out into the nearby parks. As the bus got closer to town, there were already a few fires smoldering in the road and big logs ready to block it off entirely. But after some deft manuevering by our driver we arrived in Huaraz, worn out and frustrated from the terrible, violent movies shown on the bus all day.

At the recommendation of our friend Matt, we stayed at a beautiful little place called Albergue Churup and met up with him for dinner. It turned out that there was also a regional agrarian strike the next day, followed by the national workers' strike the next, so we had little choice but to stay in the city and explore areas within a safe distance of the hotel. There was lots of graffiti both supporting and condemning the strike, and apparently (judging by the graffiti dates), similar events had happened in April, May and June. It's hard to tell if they are making any progress with their demands. One of our friends joked that this is because Peruvians only strike until lunch time and then they go home and rest. That's not entirely true, but it does seem like they could be more effective with a little more organization.

Huaraz is surrounded by beautiful mountains and has some nice churches and a stream running through the city, but it is also dry, dusty, and many of the buildings have rebar spikes extending up from each corner, as if the owners are all hoping to throw on new additions as soon as they can. However, the dogs all look a lot healthier than those in Iquitos (maybe the cold naturally selects against mange and hairlessness?) and the cars are a lot quieter than mototaxis.

The day after the strike we took a one day "warm-up" hike to Huascaran National Park and the Cordillera Blanca to see some waterfalls, birds, and to get our mountain legs. The early morning taxi took us up steeply from the river valley to the tiny settlement of Honcopampa and along the way we saw men and women in traditional Andean clothing hand weaving wool (sheep or llama?), hoeing plots of land, and herding animals. At the beginning of our hike (the taxi just dropped us in a field and a couple of school girls from the nearby village pointed towards a valley and said "go that way") we were interested to see some plant -covered rock structures, which turned out to have been built before the Inkas arrived (no one we talked to knew what the structures were or who built them but Matt later told us they're probably Huacas 0r burial mounds).

The day hike went well and that afternoon we prepared for a longer hike in the Cordillera Huayhuash, to the south of Huaraz. Leaving the next morning at 5am while nervously keeping an eye on our backpacks, an extra tent, 3 folding seats, and a box full of food, we successfully navigated crowded bus rides to the small town of Chiquian and then on to the smaller town of Llamac. Arriving in Llamac we met our mule driver Elmer and his 2 mules, named Zorro and....Zorro. (Zorro means fox or possum, depending on what part of Peru you're from). The bigger on was white and got a larger load, so I felt some affinity, while the smaller one was gray and had a "J" stamped on it's nose, so Jess got attached to it. However, her's was a boy donkey so she called it "Joselito". It didn't take long walking up the mountain road before we appreciated not having to carry more than a daypack. We tried talking to Elmer some, but he was very reserved, so Jess decided her mission for the trip would be to make him laugh.

We spent the whole first day on the road, initially following a narrow river valley with rock-walled gardens, which widened as we got higher and turned into grassland full of sheep, cows, and horses. There were lots of small corrals built of stone, incorporating into their shapes the largest boulders that couldn't be moved. Every structure in these mountains is made of stone, as there is obviously no shortage of it crumbling off the mountains. And as the Japanese mining company in the valley has discovered, there is also plenty of copper. Unfortunately, this means they are contaminating the local river, but don't worry, they've built immense new irrigation systems to make up for it (which I'm sure will never stop working, especially with the frequent earthquakes...)

Jess and I fell farther and farther behind Elmer, as we were looking at birds and scenerey and generally walking slowly. We eventually spotted him a mile ahead on the road, and caught up in time to set up the tents (our two-person tent and a large cooking/mule driver sleeping tent) in a sheep and cow pasture just before it started raining. Jess then realized that over half of our eggs had been cracked by the bouncing of the burros, so we salvaged what we could for dinner. Elmer (who usually goes with groups that also have a guide and a cook) appeared to be a bit worried about his meal prospects over the next few days and offered to carry the eggs himself- by hand, in a plastic bag. We let him.

The next morning we found ice frozen to the tents and had to wait for the sun to make its way into the valley to melt it off. Meanwhile the burros, which had been tied for the night, took off down the road (twice) to try to get back to their homes so Elmer was kept busy re-collecting them. The hike that day took us off the road and up the steep Rondoy pass (4750 meters high), where we stopped for lunch and Elmer told us stories of mountain climbing accidents and plane crashes. Jess did not appreciate these. Heading down we passed one *bright* blue lake at the foot of the glaciered peaks called Solteracocha (lake of the single lady), and then went farther down the valley alongside another large lake called Jahuacocha (lake of the ... jahua). We admired the coots, ducks, grebes, and herons on and around the lake, but the pasture camping spot at the end was crowded with gringo hikers, mules, and old Andean ladies trying to sell us Cervezas or Coca Cola so we decided to move the next day.

We didn't have anything planned for the next day, so we moved camp up between the two lakes and then climbed up to Solteracocha to try our hands at fishing. Elmer was not very interested in sharing the rod he had put together (we don't think he gets to fish much on his own or with bigger groups) and then it started to hail, so Jess and I headed back down towards camp. The weather cleared up though, so we rented a fishing rod from the lady in a nearby hut (after refusing the Cerveza and CocaCola) and tried our luck on the beautiful clear stream between the lakes. I got a couple little trout interested in our bread bait, but none big enough to keep. Fortunately Elmer's worms were good enough to bring in 5- six inchers (!!), which we fried up with tomatoes and lime for dinner. (Not too much meat- really only worth it for the story.)

The next morning Jess and I made the tactical decision not to climb up into a nearby valley (my left achilles tendon had started hurting the day before), so the three of us went fishing again for the morning. Jess amused Elmer by jumping in the Frigid stream to go after a snagged fishhook, but still no laughs. In the afternoon we worked our way down the valley (and got to see another massive irrigation project built by the mine), before camping just over another pass (4300 meters high). We had an enjoyable final evening, with a huge dinner of soup, pasta, and hot cocoa, and some good conversations with Elmer, who was starting to talk more about his life in Mahuay. Jess even finally got him to laugh (with a stupid potty-humor joke)! The view from our campsite that night looked a little like some from the Blue Ridge Parkway, so we started thinking about getting home soon. Also, while Elmer was out tending the donkeys, an Andean Fox tried to come in the cook tent and help us finish dinner. Alas it was only noodles.

The next morning we headed down the steep slope to Llamac, grateful that we weren't going in the opposite direction, and arrived with plenty of time to catch the buses back to Chiquian and Huaraz. After a hot shower and steak dinner in Huaraz we were somewhat recovered, although still pretty wipe from our relatively short hike (this altitude thing is no joke!). Now we're off for Arequipa by way of Lima. Keep your fingers crossed for better movies on the bus!!