15.02 A trek in the Andes, a memorable experience

Truth be told, we both became sick on the eve of the trek, the planned highlight of the trip to Peru.
On Friday night, one part of the brain said we should cancel and that’s what we really felt like doing.
The other part said: Give it another day, perhaps good health will return. We ignored the subject on Saturday,
thinking we’d defer a decision until the last moment. More about that later.


Machu Picchu from the top of the mountain of the same name. Huana Picchu Peak across and below
completes sandwiching the ruins.


The ruins from close up, the Inca City of Machu Picchu.


Early morning on second day, a beautiful moment in the Andes.

On Sunday, after contacting our landlady about the lack of hot water—Saturday night’s cold shower
separated the men from the boys—we headed for a hike. To gain further knowledge of the locals, we chose
to ride a bus. It was both an experience and enjoyable. It’s always difficult to know the procedures
to follow, complicated further by lack of communication and not understanding where the bus was headed
and by definition, we too. Frankly, we are having difficulty getting our ‘heads around Peru’. Thus far,
it is nothing like we have experienced. Perhaps, it is a mix of Africa with a little of Europe thrown
in but not much North American. After all, it is South America. We write this after ten days in the
country, before seeing Lima.


Machu Picchu Mountain, a sick Jenni shows her courageous side. The 1,950 feet vertical climb up steps
following 1,400 feet climb to the ruins from Aguas Calientes and 300 plus more within the ruins.


A view towards the mountains and into the valley on day 1

A Toyota 18-seater pulled up to the curb and we said something about ‘Central’ to the guy manning the door.
He indicated that we should jump aboard. Thereafter, he announced his 'spiel' to the rest of the people
waiting at the stop. We offered some money but he ignored it. 'Must be a senior special’, we mentioned
to our lovely editor. It is one of the perks of traveling with an older woman. Then we got it. A person only
pays the fare at the stop or two before alighting from the bus.


Fortunate to see clouds, mist and clear sunshine within minutes of each other. The ruins take cover.


The struggle continues on the 3,500 feet ascent in under 3 hours.

Following an uneventful trip, we headed along cobbled streets reminding us of San Francisco’s steep hills.
Then it began to get dark, lightning flashed, thunder clapped and we took shelter under the eaves of
someone’s house. This initial display of electricity and sound emanating from the sky was followed by rain and hail.
Boy, did it pour. Then the real drama began. Cars or their drivers decided ‘U-turns’ should be the order of the day.
This included busses, too. To watch a bus attempting such a move in a narrow lane would be comical if it did not create
such chaos. With the drama unfolding, the flow of water was so strong, both above and below ground, that manhole
covers were lifted. Cars struck these steel plates while others buried a wheel down the holes.


Personally mesmerized by this scene looking away from ruins.


The mythical race between the 'tortoise and mule'. The second day's 6,200 feet descent in rain.

After taking cover, we decided it was time to head back home. The water flowing down the roads made it
impossible for us to cross them. We were on the wrong side to hail a taxi although we still tried. By that
time, we were soaked through our rain jackets. Perhaps the most frightening aspect of all was watching
motorists maintain high speeds down steep roads while aquaplaning. The cold was seeping into the bones,
which was not a pleasant feeling or any good for our suspect health. We then remembered David, a man who rescued
us when we were lost somewhere above Durango, Colorado a few years back. We also remembered when we missed a
turn in the mountains of San Raphael and were lost, too. In both cases, our appeal to the Master was answered
within minutes.


Although 6,000 feet below our highest point, arguably the high of the trip. Ruins over 2,000 feet below.

Back to Cusco. After thirty minutes in the pouring rain, every taxi occupied, things were looking bleak.
Now we realize it’s easy to say coincidence; to ask what about all the times that help had not arrived or,
making facts fit outcomes. We won’t argue. Having mentioned this, our words were, “Hashem, we need a taxi
desperately, please.” Within seconds, we spotted one approaching. We hailed it but sadly noted a passenger
on-board. However, it was also slowing down. We turned to watch. The car halted, a passenger got out within
five feet of our position and in we climbed, soaked but elated. Thank you again. With the trek taking place
the following day, we had two wishes: Our health would not be negatively impacted from the cold-soaking
and...hot water would flow from our showerhead.


The glacial lake below Salkantay Mountain. This gem is hidden and tough to reach.

As an opener of what turned out to be a ‘great trek’, we have provided a few random photographs by way
of introduction. Thereafter, we’ll go into more detail of an adventure that was filled with rain, a bit
of snow, little sleep, reaching our highest altitude to-date, dropping down 6,200 feet in an afternoon,
being along the glaciers of the incredible Salkantay Mountain and finally, arriving in Machu Picchu before
climbing the mountain of the same name. We also met interesting fellow hikers. It was an incredible experience
although we were hampered by health issues. Nevertheless, it opened our eyes further to the complexity of the
country in addition to lifestyles of those living in the villages tucked deeply in the countryside, or as some
might to say, far from modern civilization.

Cheers,

Jeffrey and Jenni