On the roof of the apartment again, in Cusco at 5am, the morning of the trek.
City lights still shine before nature dominates the day.
In the middle of 'nowhere', Marampata actually, nature's lights put on the evening's entertainment.
Thirty minutes after arriving at camp 2, the mountains and clouds got into an argument. We hate that,
especially when the clouds cry. Be nice fellows!
Engineers of the 14th century. The wall or terrace is well below the city (top-right).
The adventure began when we walked through the city of Cusco searching for another trek to undertake
while in the country. Two weeks previously, we had enjoyed a wonderful experience, the Salkantay Trek.
We found Edwin, a business owner, who offered us this option. He also spoke good English and seemed a
very nice young man. He also did not mention how tough the hike is—perhaps he’s not such a nice young
man after all. In fact, he drove us to the commencement point in Cachora, a near 4-hour drive over the
most torturous route we have traveled. Although the road was mostly in good repair, it comprised
hairpin bends, S-curves, sharp turns and then the same pattern repeated itself moving acutely
up-and-down. For the first time in perhaps thirty years, the editor’s ‘brave hero’ emptied his stomach
on the side of the road. By the time we reached the destination point in the car, hiking over four days was
not a high priority. In fact, it was a struggle to keep the head up and the mind focused.
Oroya or manual cable car for river crossing. Trying to convince the editor the system works
ninety percent of time.
Wallflower taking a walk in the ruins on the wild side as we head for the plaza at Choquequirao. There was only
one other couple shopping for 'specials' that afternoon.
We have enjoyed being in Peru very much. What follows should not be seen as disparaging in any way.
In fact, at times, we walk around with heavy hearts as we witness the poverty, squalor and dilapidated
buildings and houses. At the same time, the people are always friendly and helpful although communication
is extremely difficult for those without the local language—the language of the Americas. Cusco from
above seems quite an attractive town and at night, even better. However, when one looks under the roof
coverings or in the harsh light, the warts are revealed. To date, we have not seen a house or building
that is complete, properly finished or one we would entertain purchasing should it be our wish to live
in this region. Clearly, because of affordability or custom, the thinking is very different from the
Western way, or at least ours. Litter is a serious problem, too. Although there is a campaign to educate
the people, it has not taken off yet. The towns and cities we have seen are very dirty and shabby.
When our guide threw a plastic bottle into the bush, we realized how much work needs to be done.
Enjoyed seeing the wisp of cloud in front of the snow-capped gigantic mountain.
Just in time to witness the sun catch the back mountain.
Full frontal of the ruined city with an interesting backdrop. Only accessible by foot.
Nearest town 22 miles away.
Crime is another issue. Most places have some form of security whether it’s bars over windows and doors,
barbed wire or armed personnel. Dogs roam the streets at all hours of the day, too. Often one might walk
past a pooch wondering whether it is asleep or dead. The occasional flickering of the eye is always a
good clue. Dogs on the streets having a very good understanding in avoiding motorists. They are familiar
with the constant sound of honking horns. However, it is quite scary as drivers never slow for animals but
rely on the dogs being savvy. Then there are the mavericks that chase after passing cars, trying to bite
tyres or is it licking hubcaps. It takes all types.
Rugged and overpowering but so attractive.
By the time we arrived, all merchandise was sold. Maybe next time, Jen.
The most enjoyable part of climb from the canyon, the last third, showing the partial trail.
We have had occasion to see some of the interior parts of shacks, mud buildings and other forms of
accommodation. To put it bluntly, many people live in squalor. We camped in a small area on the
landlord’s premises, a sandy area between the ablutions, ‘patio’ and main house or hut. The walls
were made of mud bricks with openings for windows, a bed and the rest of the interior used as storage
area. There was an outside shower, but no hot water, nor electricity, a manual toilet flush and millions
of mosquitos. However, the view of Salkantay Mountain to the right and looking down into the canyon
and river with other mountains to the fore was one of the best positions we’ve seen. We discussed,
in a manner of speaking, what it would be like in winter with mountains covered in snow. We think
spectacular and the expression on the elderly owner’s face concurred.
Not quite breakfast at Tiffany's, although the fowl guys woke us at 3:30am.
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Editor on the way down and ...out.
At another home visited, the animals roamed in out the house and courtyard freely together with
a myriad of flies. On the clothesline, the baby’s washing swayed in the breeze while the baby itself
was propped on two chairs and a blanket, acting as a crib (cot). While observing these scenes of
poverty, we reflected on a saying from our sages, to modify it slightly, ‘happiness is derived by
being comfortable with one’s lot’. It was a treat to make modest contributions along the way,
especially to the people that sweated with us. The appreciation in their faces brought a lump to
the throat on many occasions. There is something confusing about the world when people work ‘like dogs’
and earn a mere pittance. We make this statement as committed and unabashed capitalists.
River deep, mountain high.
Exposed peak poses one more time, Salkantay, the sacred mountain.
When we signed up for the trek, we decided to accept a Spanish-speaking guide instead of English.
Apparently, they were having a ‘special’ and we certainly saw it in the reduced price. After the
first trek, we felt comfortable with this type of arrangement. In the country areas, English is
completely unknown—Quechuan is a dominant language. Basically, the trek included two mules and a driver,
plus our guide. In retrospect, we could have done the trek without the guide but not the mules. The animals are
an important means of transport in the region. As an aside, there were many donkeys and mules about. At the
river crossing, they are building a pedestrian bridge and use the creatures to transport cement, tools and other
provisions miles and miles each day. The mules do an incredible job of work. What a life! It’s fascinating
observing them while in motion and at rest. It seems we all have a purpose on earth although some appear
less desirable than others. We still don’t understand the reason for mosquitos, though. Anyway, the more
we sweated and struggled up those vertical mountains, the more we realized how fortunate we truly are.
We hope we did not need this trip to illustrate the point but it certainly emphasized it.
The "A" Team...okay, maybe "C" or "D". On left, mule manager for southern side of river and off-season
Manchester United midfielder. Moving right is our 52-year old guide followed by the mule manager for the
north side of river. (Mules can't cross the water.) On the right, is gringo carrying the moola.
At rear, is camera-shy mule.
One does not wish to end on too somber a note. Instead, we will relate the ongoing saga of Ramon and Jeffrey,
a Peruvian and some might say, another 'Peruvian' but we’ll settle on an African-American rather. Ramon is
the father of our landlady, Patricia, whom we have not met. We have dealt with her younger sister Nathalie
as well as the brother. They are a very helpful family and we like them. Unfortunately, Ramon speaks not a
word of English and we are not experts in Spanish although we have accumulated a dozen or so words by now, Amigos.
Ramon deals with technical issues such as water. We find this a critical commodity as we have a bad habit
of showering at least daily unless we are on the trails. Then we really should shower but don’t have access.
We also have another bad habit in that we like hot water. We know we seem difficult but there you are.
Closing with more action on the peaks as Jen returns to camp for a 'firm' night's sleep.
Since arriving in Cusco more than three weeks ago, hot water has been a variable. We now make sure for
an evening shower, we complete the process early, that is, before the hot ceases and/or the pressure dies.
We have no idea what goes on and particularly so, after Ramon returns to explain in Spanish the problem.
One explanation given with hand movements, we think, is that the water has to flow from the roof through
the pipes. Water sitting in the pipes has naturally cooled. We are more than 60 years old—we get it.
We never put in a request without running the water for at least 3-4 minutes. People have little regard
for our intellect in Peru, it seems. If one does not speak the language, one is obviously an idiot.
Ramon is such a nice fellow but we probably frustrate him. Can you imagine the discussion we had when
we smelled a gas leak yesterday? We may not speak the language but we are learning the art of the pantomime.
To be continued…
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
Looks like the editor succeeded on the Oroya although signaling a left turn. Dare we say 'woman driver'?
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