Peru Trip Reports

Mountain Bike Peru

by Allie Savage on February 17, 2010

04-Ride-to-Moray

Amazonas Explorer débuts two new mountain biking expeditions: Single Track Heaven & Back Roads of the Andes! I recently snagged myself a Rocky Mountain Fusion – my first ever mountain bike. Not the most fancy bike on the market, but definitely the nicest thing I’ve ever owned…  a very satisfying check off the “needed gear” list. Ahhh!

After a week of owning my beautiful bike, I find these two beauties from Amazonas. Being that its winter in Montana and the hilly streets of Helena are glazed in ice, I catch myself drifting off to quiet (and snow-free) dirt roads high in the Peruvian Andes.

Lake Titicaca

Lake Titicaca

The Back Roads of the Andes thirteen-day journey starts on the shores of Lake Titicaca and veers north to Cusco on rarely used dirt roads and pack-trails. Visit quaint colonial towns and small mountain villages, stroll through vibrant indigenous markets, explore ancient Incan ruins, even stay the night at an alpaca breeding center. Way off the beaten path, this challenging ride offers sweeping altiplano views with crystal clear streams, vast lakes, cactus forests and out of this world rock formations, as well as, a chance to get to know the local Andean people… whom bikes are the preferred form of transportation!

Alpacas

Alpacas

Ending with a guided tour of Machu Picchu’s famous ruins – one of the new 7 Wonders of the World – and the chance to experience some of Cusco’s happening night-life, this trip offers the perfect combination of Peru’s must-see’s and a fascinating look into some of their unsung treasures.

************************************************************************************

By mid-morning and a half a pot of coffee later, visions of their Single Track Heaven trek start creeping in. In similar fashion to the Back Roads tour, this trip still offers classic Peru experiences with an optional visit to infamous Machu Picchu and nights in Cusco. Yet, it offers even the most extreme mountain bike enthusiasts a chance to see the real Peru – off the beaten “Gringo trail” onto some of the best cross country and downhill single track on the planet (so says Amazonas).

Hacienda Marcabamba

Hacienda Marcabamba

Using a converted colonial building in the Sacred Valley – Hacienda Marcabamba – as the base for this nine-day mountain biking dream, you can hunker in for a bit and explore the local area – enjoy locally produced meals, explore rarely visited ruins and artisan markets or mosey on down to the local spa/bar to settle down after all the adrenaline-packed days.

The rides offer a mix of dirt roads, donkey paths, mind-blowing single tracks (largely downhill or flat) and a chance to hone your step jumping on original Inca trails. Take in the World class Mega – Avalanche Downhill course, a true wilderness ride to Huchuy Quosqo, the classic Maras to Moray saltpan ride and the very best of local single track in Cusco itself (plus plenty more). There is something for everyone to enjoy and daily rides will be tailored to the individual skills of the group. A great adventure!

Mega Avalanche Downhill Course

Mega Avalanche Downhill Course

{ 0 comments }

Ferrocarril Transandiono FETRASA is the company in charge of the railroad to Machu Picchu maintenance. They have sent a statement reiterating that they have started reconstruction of the railroad and time-lining progress:

1. The trans Hydroelectrica – Machu Picchu route is estimated to be open around the 17th or 18th of February (*)

2. The Piscacucho to Machu Picchu route is planned to run beginning March 21st.

3. The Ollantaytambo – Machu Picchu route is predicted to open on April 1st.

****************************************************

Andean Adventures notes their alternative transport to the famous ruins. (Cusco – Ollantaytambo – Santa Maria – Santa Teresa – Hydroelectrica – Aguas Calientes – Machu Picchu)***

- Cusco to Ollantaytambo: 81 km on paved road & Ollantaytambo to Santa Maria: 83 km on paved road/35 km on dirt road

Estimated Travel Time: 5-6 hours

- Santa Maria to Santa Teresa: 22.5 km on a narrow dirt road.

Estimated Travel Time: 1 hour

- Santa Teresa to Hidroelectrica: 19 km on dirt road

Estimated Travel Time: 40 min

- Hidroelectrica to Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Town):

Estimated Travel Time: 30 min

Nearest Towns With Hotel:

Quillabamba (2 Stars): 6 hours from Cusco and 2.5 hours from Hidroelectrica

Santa Teresa (small, basic hotel)

*** Please Note: Machu Picchu is inaccessible for the time being. However, a back entrance route is in the works and will hopefully be an option soon. This back route is laid out above.

{ 2 comments }

Peru Trip Report — Alex Lindell
May 15 – 31, 2006

Alex at Sacsayhuaman

Alex at Sacsayhuaman

Inca Trail Trek, Rafting, Peru Mountain Biking, Lago Titicaca, & Tihuanaco

We booked this 16 day trip through Detour and their partner in Peru, Amazonas Explorer.  The service from both companies greatly exceeded our expectations as did the trip overall.  Peru and the Inca legacy is something everyone must see.

To accompany the report below, pictures are located at http://www.detourdestinations.com/photopost/showgallery.php?cat=500&ppuser=17.  I have also included links to photos throughout as well as to pertinent websites.

Day 1 – May 15 – Arrival in Lima
I arrived around 10pm to the Lima Airport on Monday night and the airport was a madhouse.  I was not able to pick my name out of the hundreds of signs, so I walked upstairs to the tour operator office.  I was quickly led to a van and on my way to the hotel in Miraflores.  I still have not figured out how my driver circumnavigated the gridlock at the airport, but it was an impressive display of driving.  Tip: do not drive in Peru – I highly doubt I would have survived one day driving.

I stayed the night at the Double Tree El Pardo in Miraflores.  I made my way to the bar to taste test the various Peruvian beers and Cusquena dark won out quite easily.  I had a great conversation with the bartender and learned that Peruvian politics is about the same as in the U.S.  Peru’s highly contested election between Ollanta and Garcia was just a couple weeks away (Garcia won on June 4).  The Peruvians say that the choice is like being forced to choose between cancer and AIDS.  And “forced” is the right word since voting is obligatory and failure to vote results in a pretty hefty fine.

Day 2 – May 16 – Cusco
I was picked up early in the morning in Miraflores for the rush hour drive back to the airport.  It was even more exciting than the prior evening’s ride.  To make an otherwise simple trip to Cusco more challenging, I left my ATM card in the machine and did not realize it till after I was through security.  Once through security, it is not possible to go back out.  The tour operator at the airport made sure the card was destroyed and it all worked out without a serious disaster.

Upon arrival in Cusco, I was greeted at the airport by the Amazonas tour guide, Alan.  Alan took me to the Hotel Mabey and filled me up with some cocoa tea.  Since I arrived a day early for the Inca Trail Trek, Alan turned out to be my personal guide around Cusco.  Cusco is at about 12,000 feet above sea level and Alan warned me not to drink alcohol on my first night.  In the same sentence he told me to meet him at the Plaza de Armas at 10pm if I wanted to go out that night.  Before going into the club, he warned me about the bicheras (a.k.a gringo hunters – I told him we call them gold diggers).  In hindsight I should have taken his advice, but instead I got drunk and fell easy prey to the hunters.

Plaza de Armas, Cusco

Plaza de Armas, Cusco

Day 3 – May 17 – Cusco
In Peru, cars have the right of way – crossing the street is no simple matter.  The cars will not slow down; in fact I am pretty sure a few sped up when they saw me.  Most often they will honk the horn, which means that it is rare for a second to pass without hearing a horn.  This kind of sucks at 7am while trying to sleep off a hangover.  The hotel had a limitless supply of cocoa tea and it eased the pain slightly.

The rest of the group arrived in Cusco about midday and I was introduced to a few of our trekking companions and our lead trekking guide, Willo.  Our trekking companions were a group of five Brits and they had me in stitches from the outset.  Our tour of Cusco lasted about half an hour because the Brits wanted to watch the Arsenal vs. Barcelona football (a.k.a soccer) match.  Arsenal put up one hell of an effort after losing a man in the first few minutes, but lost 2 to 1.

That evening, Willo provided the Inca Trail briefing and we were presented with our kit bags.  Amazonas provided everything but clothes, toiletries, and a sleeping bag.  The clothes and toiletries had to fit in the kit bag.  At first, the bag looked painfully small and I was a little worried.  I ended up having extra space even with the 500 page book I brought along and never opened.

Day 4 – May 18 – Inca Trail Day One
Willo and the minibus arrived early in the morning to pick us up and head for the trail, but first we were stopping in Ollantaytambo.  On the way, we picked up the rest of group in the Sacred Valley – four more Brits and a Canadian.  They had been mountain biking the previous day and stayed in a villa with a local family and their pets – a couple labs and a couple loudmouth parrots.  Amazonas set this up as well and it looked quite nice.

Ollantaytambo is an impressive site (I will call them “sites” as opposed to the prevalent use of the term “ruins” – Willo was adamant about this point because there is nothing ruined about these sites) carved into a hillside and shaped like a llama.  It seems that every hillside in Peru is terraced.  It was amazing to see the amount of work (an 8 foot high retaining wall to reclaim 3 feet of land from a steep hillside) to capture such a small plot of land.  At the very top of the site is what is left of a Sun Temple and my first glimpse of massive carved stones fit together so perfectly a razor blade could not pierce the seams.  At this point I realized that the prevalent theory (time, slaves, and copper tools) to explain how these stones were carved and then hauled to their resting spots was total rubbish.

We arrived at the Km 82 trailhead around 2pm and met our porters and chefs.  In total, there were 13 trekkers, 2 guides, and 20 porters.  The first day we hiked only a few relatively flat miles before camping across the river from Patallacta.  By the time we arrived, the porters had all the tents set up, including kitchen, dining, and toilet tents.  The porters lined up and applauded our arrival at camp.  We had a brief introduction ceremony, and then we were each provided with a large bowl of hot water and soap to wash up.  This was followed immediately by hot tea.  There always seemed to hot tea at anytime on the trek – I am not sure if this is because Amazonas is a British-run company or if it is because all the water is boiled and making tea is easier than cooling the water.  For dinner, there was more tea, soup, chicken pesto with rice and mashed potatoes, chocolate pudding, followed by more tea.  We did not stay awake long after dinner.  Had I known this would be my only evening with any luck related to the backgammon dice, I would have stayed awake later.

Day 5 – May 19 – Inca Trail Day Two
Oswaldo, our second guide, was tasked with waking everyone.  It was pretty early and fairly chilly, but they had hot tea in hand as well as more hot water for washing.  We packed our kit and sleeping bags before a nice hot breakfast.  After eating, we set out across the river for an up close view of Patallacta, a huge terraced hillside with an intricate irrigation system and another Sun Temple.  The first few miles of the trek were flat along the riverside and mostly dirt.  Then we hit the uphill and that was basically the end of the flat for the rest of the trek.  On this day, the trek was entirely uphill with lots of stairs.  The massive of wad of cocoa leaves in my mouth helped immensely.

Inca Trail in the Clouds

Inca Trail in the Clouds

We ate lunch about halfway up the climb and spent some time relaxing in the sun.  Lunch was much like dinner – three courses with soup, hot entrée, dessert, and more hot tea.  The rest of the day’s hike was basically stairs.  We crested the top of the hill at Llulluchapampa, where they had set up flat areas for camping and a restroom.  We hiked another half mile or so to a sweet campsite at the foot of Dead Woman’s Pass (Abra de Huarmihuanusca).  The campsite had a small stream running through it and an amazing view of the Andes.  I carried three bottles of Cusquena all the up the trail that day, but everyone was so beat after the hike that only the porters would drink it.

Day 6 – May 20 – Inca Trail Day Three
This was a big day of hiking with two significant passes so they started us early again.  The first pass was Dead Woman’s Pass – named because the mountain is shaped like a woman lying down, not because a woman actually died trying to cross it.  From there we hiked down stairs on much of an original Inca trail.  I thought the trail itself was very impressive as it was totally paved with huge stones weighing more than a ton.  In some spots the Incas had to build up the road 20 or 30 feet to make it wide enough for three people to walk abreast.  I understand that there are more than 10,000 miles of these Inca roads stretching from Bolivia to Ecuador.  In addition, the roads are high along the sides of the mountains rather than through the valleys.

After a snack at the bottom of the hill, we headed up to Runcu Raccay and the second major pass.  From here we could see all the way back to Dead Woman’s Pass.  On the way down there is a site called Sayac Marca overlooking a smaller site named Conch Marca.  Sayac Marca requires an extra climb up about 200 steep stairs, but was my favorite spot.  It is rather small but has an amazing water works and an even more spectacular view.  Don’t skip this site.

At the bottom of the hill we stopped for lunch in a spot where most of the other tour companies were setting up for camp.  We continued to hike for a few more hours till we reached the top of a smaller pass and our campsite overlooking Phuyu Pata Marca.  This was when I realized how much better our campsites were than those of the other tour companies.  While the other tours were camping in a valley next to a toilet, we camped on a terraced hillside all by ourselves with breathtaking views in all directions.

Phuyu Pata Marca

Phuyu Pata Marca

The views at sunset and sunrise and of the giant Andean peaks from here can’t be described in words and I am not even sure the photos do it justice.

Day 7 – May 21 – Inca Trail Day Four
We woke very early to catch the sunrise and tea at the summit.  It is well worth waking up at the crack of dawn for this view.  After breakfast there was a big ceremony as this was our last chance to visit with the porters.  The ceremony began with a raffle of all the stuff we no longer needed after the trek – t-shirts, socks, liquor, cocoa leaves, jackets…  The porters then sang a song and danced.  Then the trekkers sang a song (The Hokie Pokie, because that’s what it’s all about) and danced.  Then we presented the chefs, louman, porters, and guides with their tips – $150 – $200 U.S. dollars total is about what we each put in and our guide helped us determine the split.

We then headed down the steep stairs to Phuyu Pata Marca complete with functional ceremonial baths – no one got in because the water was frigid.  We were rather unlucky because a landslide during the rainy season had wiped out the famed Sun Gate entrance to Machu Picchu and we forced to hike to the river and into Aguas Calientes and then take a bus to Machu Picchu.  They fixed the trail two days after we completed the trek.  I don’t know what I missed so I am not very disappointed.  So the rest of this description is a variation of the regular route.

In lieu of the regular hike, we veered off the main trail at Phuyu Pata Marca and hiked a less traveled trail to Intipata.  Intipata is a convex shaped site with huge terraces way up on the side of a steep mountain.  Further down the hill is a concave shaped site called Huinay Huanay (Forever Young).  You can see both sites in this picture.

We reached town about 3:30 in the afternoon and we split from the rest of the group.  Amazonas put the group up for the night in a hostel in Aguas Calientes, but we decided to pay the extra $900 dollars to stay the night at the Machu Picchu Sanctuary Lodge.  It is a five star hotel located right next to the entrance of Machu Picchu.  Every book we read raved about this place and a few even said this is a must see before you die deal.  Lies, all lies!  The service was abysmal for even a three star hotel, they gave us food poisoning, and then they treating us like trash.  To top it off, the only view you get from the hotel is of the fat American in a towel talking on his cell phone.  There is no view of Machu Picchu and there is no special access to the site either.  It is a total waste of money and we would have had a much better time with the rest of the group at the hostel.  Then the hotel manager had the audacity to tell our tour operator that we did not have food poisoning, we were just drunk.  Well, I weigh 225 pounds and had five drinks in 4 hours.  It must be the first ever 104 degree fever induced by drinking – their doctor had to give us both shots in the ass to stop the nausea.  I hope someday to meet this hotel manager in a dark alley.  And this is the watered down version of my Sanctuary Lodge tirade.  The hotel ruined what was supposed to be the highlight of the trip and we only got to spend a couple hours at Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu

Day 8 – May 22 – Machu Picchu
Since we spent the entire night rotating use of the bathroom, we only spent a few hours at Machu Picchu.  Get there first thing in the morning or stay till close.  On the trek, we had every site to ourselves, so it was a little anticlimactic to have to share Machu Picchu with a thousand other people.  The rest of group arrived at 6am and had a fabulous time.

Late that afternoon we caught the train back to Ollantaytambo and then a bus back to Cusco and the Hotel Mabey.  This hotel cost less than $100 per night and they treated us like royalty.  The owner made us chicken soup and delivered it to our room.  I highly recommend the Hotel Mabey.

The rest of the group went out to dinner, but we stayed in bed as the train ride didn’t help much with the Sanctuary Lodge Plague.

Day 9 – May 23 – Cusco Sites
When I woke, the sun was shining and the illness eradicated.  We decided to rent a taxi for the day and see the Inca sites in and around Cusco.  Edgar, our taxi driver, charged us about $25 for four hours or so.  We started at Sacsayhuaman (pronounced like Sexy Woman).  Cusco was the capitol of the Inca and Sacsayhuaman the fortress from where the Incas fought the Spanish conquistadors before retreating into the Andes.  When you see the Inca sites, it is difficult to imagine what they must have looked like during the reign of the Incas.  The sites were inlayed with gold and most of them were 6 to 10 feet higher than what can be seen today – the conquistadors pried out all the gold and took the smaller stones from the tops of the sites to build the churches.  Sacsayhuaman was built from some of the largest stones I saw on the entire trip.

After Sacsayhuaman we visited the smaller sites of Qenqo, Pukapukara, Tambomachay, and the White Christ.  What remains of Qenqo is a huge rock that has steps and hollows carved into it.  Pukapukara has an amazing view of Cusco.  Tambomachay is a ceremonial bath which is still operational.  The White Christ was a gift from the Palestinians in 1945 and stands high above Cusco with arms wide open.

Rafting the Urubamba

Rafting the Urubamba

Day 10 – May 24 – River Rafting
Ephram, our rafting guide, and Jaunito, our safety kayaker, picked us up bright and early for the drive to the put in on the Urubamba.  It took about two hours to get to the put in as Amazonas prefers to raft the upper part of the river before it passes civilization and raw sewage from the towns.  We passed through what looked like an entrance to a national park before reaching the put in.  Prior to casting off, Ephram explained the commands and safety precautions.  Jaunito is a sick kayaker and one of the best in Peru.  They were super fun and basically let us do whatever we wanted.  There were a few exciting rapids, but nothing especially frightening.  It was a magnificent day and we had the river to ourselves, except for one dog who was pretty upset we were on his river.  Our guides told us this part of the river is practically unrunable for commercial tours toward the end of the rainy season in March and April.  Amazonas offers a three day rafting trip on a different river that is supposed great fun as well.

At the take out, our driver was waiting with a picnic set up on the side of the river.  We spent an hour or so basking in the sun before returning to Cusco.

Mountain Biking Peru

Mountain Biking Peru

Day 11 – May 25 – Mountain Biking
Amazonas set up this mountain biking trip on a popular trail from up above Cusco into the Sacred Valley by the salt mines.  The first part of the ride is mostly dirt road with no significant challenges technically or physically.  We stopped for lunch above the circular terraces at Moray outside the town of Maras.  From here the trail was fabulous singletrack complete with banked turns, switchbacks, and technical obstacles.  Most of the ride was downhill with a couple short uphill sections, which would not ordinarily faze you, but at 12,000 feet are painful on the lungs.  At the end of the singletrack, we emerged above the salt mines.  They are quite a sight and the amount of work required to get the salt (and the price they charge) is staggering to comprehend.

Day 12 – May 26 – Cusco
This was our final day in Cusco and our only self imposed day of rest.  We had no activities planned and just spent the day lounging around Cusco.  We spent some time shopping and perfecting my ability to say “no gracias”, which I must have said about 100,000 times and never did eliminate the gringo accent.  We also were able to download our memory cards onto CDs at one of ten photo shops near the Plaza de Armas.

Meal Time on the Orient Express to Puno

Meal Time on the Orient Express to Puno

Day 13 – May 27 – Train to Puno
I was kind of dreading the ten hour train ride from Cusco to Puno, but this turned out to be one of the best days of the trip.  You must get the first-class ticket for the train and it is an experience you will not forget.  The other classes on the train you will also not forget, but not because it was a great experience.  The Altiplano, a massive high altitude plain stretching from Argentina to Ecuador, is the setting for this train ride.  The seating car has big armchairs and tables.  Behind the seating car are a bar and an observatory, which is partially open to the air.  There was one stop halfway where we took on lunch.  The views are spectacular and this is well worth a day of vacation.

Day 14 – May 28 – Lago Titicaca Boat Trip
Henry, our guide in Puno and local filmmaker, picked us up at the Hotel Qelqatani early in the morning to catch the fast boat around the lake.  By the docks, the entire surface of the lake was covered in a layer of green algae.  The boat had about twenty-five seats and an upper deck, which was quite chilly.  Our first stop was one of the floating reed islands of Uros – Khantati.  I think these islands are largely tourist attractions now, but nonetheless they are very interesting.  The people of Uros use the reeds for almost everything including, the actual island, homes, boats, beds, fuel, and food.  The people were very nice and the island was very well kept.  Some people on our boat took a ride in one of the reed boats to another island.

Isla Taquile, Lago Titicaca

Isla Taquile, Lago Titicaca

Our next stop was the Isla Taquile.  This is a real island that was settled prior to the Incas and then later conquered by the Incas.  It is rather small as we walked from one side to the other, stopping for lunch on the way.  The island is completely terraced from top to bottom with a small Inca site atop the tallest hill.  The views from the island are magnificent – crystal blue waters stretching to the base of massive snow capped mountains.

Tihuanaco Face

Tihuanaco Face

Day 15 – May 29 – Tihuanaco, Bolivia
Closely following the Inca Trail trek, this day was my favorite.  The site at Tihuanaco is much different than anything we saw on the trail or in Cusco.  The architecture is quite a bit different and the carvings/statues were non-existent at the other sites.  The artifacts at Tihuanaco are one of the Earth’s greatest mysteries rivaling Egypt and Easter Island.  What the conquistadors did to this site is unfathomable.  I can’t imagine coming up to this site and seeing the architecture and craftsmanship and then destroying it.  After prying all the gold from the outside of the statues, they cracked them open just to make sure there was no gold inside.

I saw things at Tihuanaco that would be challenging to recreate with modern technology and just can’t be explained.  Two pieces of pottery, just like all the other pottery found, dated to 1500 B.C. of a Chinese man and one of an African man – there is no doubt.  How did these people way up in the Andes have contact with Asians and Africans in 1500 B.C.?  The perfect crosses carved into granite – by perfect, I mean every angle is a perfect 90 degrees.  The perfectly straight etched line into a granite with perfectly evenly spaced “drill” holes of the exact same diameter.  Drill is in quotes, because the Tihuanaco had no drills.  The perfectly circular carvings into basalt rock – a volcanic rock and even harder than granite.  For this one, our guide had no explanation.

This brings me to another point; the Tihuanaco and Inca peoples had made perfectly round carvings, were able to transport massive stones great distances, were able to carve some of the world’s hardest rocks, and built paved roads spanning more than 10,000 miles.  Yet there is no evidence they invented or used the wheel.  Sound familiar – how about the Egyptians who built the pyramids?  How did these great civilizations fail to invent the wheel – it seems like it would have happened by accident.  My theory – they didn’t need the wheel, there was something better.

There is a square room with 175 carved faces protruding from the wall.  Each face is carved differently and most had traditional Tihuanaco type features.  However, there are a few exceptions, like the one that looks identical to a Roswell alien – except it is from 1500 B.C.

There is a piece of granite in which they have bored a hole that scientists say resembles the human ear canal.  This hole has some pretty awesome auditory phenomena.

Toward the end of our visit, a group of school children arrived for a field trip.  At some point they disturbed a bees’ nest.  We were swarmed by bees and chased with prejudice from the site.  Remember the bee scene from Tommy Boy?  That was me running, screaming, and flailing for about ten minutes.  I was stung only once but my pride and lungs may be forever scarred.  I am real glad no one got this incident on film.

Getting back into Peru, actually getting out of Bolivia, was an exciting experience.  Let’s just say – don’t take pictures of the Bolivian border.  The Bolivian border patrol only threw rocks at us, although their guns were even more accessible.

On the way back to Puno we stopped for the Festival in Potoyama.  It was the anniversary of the town and everyone was in the central square for a parade.  I realized quickly that the people of Potoyama had never (or at least rarely) seen a six foot tall bald gringo.  I attained almost instant celebrity, but was not allowed to exploit my new found status.

Day 16 – May 30 – Home Again
Well at least after 24 hours of hellish travel.

Trekking Packing List and Tips
In your day pack, you should carry your camera (and all accessories), sunglasses, water bottle or camelback, sunscreen, bug spray, pocketknife, blister stuff, baby wipes, sunhat, fleece or sweater, extra socks, and an extra t-shirt.  If you want a trekking pole, bring a proper pole with you – the bamboo things they sell at the trailhead are more of a hassle than an asset.  At the top of every pass you will be wet with sweat and the passes are windy and cold.  You should switch into your dry t-shirt and fleece.  Splay the wet t-shirt over the back of your pack so it will dry before the next pass.  Although, we had only perfect weather, you should have a raincoat and waterproof cover for your pack just in case.  I wore shorts the whole time, but you may want a pair of trekking pants as well if it is colder.

I suggest wearing light colors.  There were relatively few bugs on the trail, but they were attracted to dark colors like black and blue.

For the porter carried items you should bring a few extra t-shirts, towel (a backpacking towel is recommended as my traditional towel never actually dried after the first day), pants, down jacket, long underwear, good sleeping bag, warm hat, after-trek shoes (I had sandals and that was a mistake – I suggest lightweight slip-ons of some sort), plenty of hiking socks and underwear, baby wipes (absolutely critical), limited toiletries (Amazonas provided soap so really a toothbrush and toothpaste is all I needed – people with hair may want a brush), and cash ($200-250 was plenty).  We also had a backgammon set we brought along which was used often.  I brought a book and never opened it.  Even if you don’t smoke, most of the porters will appreciate cigarettes.

Get some dried cocoa leaves and chew them on the uphill days.  They seemed to work wonders.

Finally, get in good shape.  The first people to arrive at camp each night get the first choice of tent.  However, this is actually not a requirement, as the pace is quite slow.  The slow pace is a necessity to allow the porters time to get ahead of you and set up prior to your arrival.  For reference, we did the trail in three and half days and the record for a porter running the same trail (without a load) is three and three quarters hours.

Food & Water on the Trek
The food was the best backpacking food I have ever had.  Every meal was hot.  In addition, at the beginning of each day they provided us with a bag of snacks.  They catered to specific dietary requirements ranging from me (anti-veggie – no corn, eggs, or mushrooms) to the full on vegetarians.  Do not expect gourmet food as all the food is carried on someone’s back, but I am super picky and this was my primary concern.  I was pleasantly surprised with the quality.

Every morning and after every lunch, Amazonas provided drinking water for filing up water bottles.  I did not need the purification tablets.

Other Suggestions
I recommend planning your activities in advance of arrival, way in advance if you want to do the traditional Inca Trail.  There is no need to waste time while on vacation planning your activities.

Don’t drink, or even put to your lips, any water that is not out of a bottle.  If they say the ice is from purified water, drink it at your own risk – I am pretty sure I sold my soul to the devil while hugging my porcelain friend at Machu Picchu.

Learn at least a little Spanish, it will go a long way.  Be patient, do not expect U.S. type service in South America, because you will be disappointed.  Try to avoid doing any more damage to our reputation – George Bush and his “foreign policy” have taken care of that for at least the next three generations.

{ 0 comments }

Boat at the Tambopata Research Center

Boat at the Tambopata Research Center

The long, motorized launch pulled up to the beach and Ebetta, Nilton, and Cesar, naturalists from the Tambopata Research Center (TRC) jumped out, leaving the boatman and their guide to tend to the boat.  “We know we are early”, they responded to our apologies for not being ready to leave, “but we have never explored the Rio Tavera, and coming to pick your party up gives us the chance.  We’ll go up river, fish, and be back to load your gear up at 10.  Since we have plenty of room, anyone who wants to come along is welcome.”

Raul, Greg, and Willie needed to pack up camp, and Brian and Charlie offered to stay and help them, giving Keith, David and me the opportunity to go exploring.  Soon we were aboard the launch, buzzing upstream at what seemed to us rafters as incredible speed.  The launch traveled up rapids with ease while our three naturalists  pointed out the sights. The river itself looked like a smaller version of the Tambopata, but with fewer sandbanks along the sides. We did see kingfishers and hawks, a red brocket deer, and, most exciting of all, two sightings of giant river otters!    These are animals similar to otters we have here, but which can grow up to six feet long!  The ones we saw only showed us their heads, as they curiously popped us to see what was going by, so we couldn’t tell how big they were.  The heads appeared to me to be the size of that of a big dog’s.

Ebetta told us that our days of rafting had brought us through a totally uninhabited area.  Five or six parties at the most, would travel through it each year.  David was most certainly the youngest person to ever have rafted the Tambopata River.  As we chatted, our boat slowed as the guides looked for a place to anchor and fish.  Suddenly there was a thumping and banging in the back of the boat, and the motor stopped.  “We must have broken the propeller on a rock,” was my first thought as we all craned to look at the rear of the boat to see just what had happened.  The naturalists started to laugh.  A three to four foot long fish, trying desperately to get away, lay flopping and banging its tail on the bottom of the boat.  It must have hit the propeller and jumped into the boat.  Soon subdued it was safely stored under the floorboards to be taken back to the lodge.  As it turned out, our self-caught fish was the only one taken that day!

Our campsite was barely recognizable when we returned to it.  The only sign that we had camped there was our gear, neatly packed up and waiting at the water’s edge.  All we could see of our camp mates was their heads in the middle of the river.  The tropical heat and the gnats, which had come out in the bright sunshine, had driven them to wait for our return in the coolest place possible.

In no time at all everything was loaded and we were rushing down stream, headed for the Tambopata Research Center.  As we told the others about the adventures of the morning, Nilton was continually scanning the riverbanks with his binoculars.  Suddenly he asked the boatman to cut the motor and pointed to a sandbank in the river.  “There’s a jaguar sleeping on that sandbank,”  he whispered excitedly. “We are so lucky to see one!”

I grabbed my binoculars for a better look at that distant creature, but before I could get them focused, he had heard us, slipped into the water, and swum to shore where he disappeared into the jungle.  It was only a glimpse, but at least I can say I actually saw a jaguar in the wild.

We continued down river, with dense jungle on the riverbanks.  Finally the launch slowed and we approached steep steps cut in the cliff side.  “Here we are,” Nilton  called out.  Carefully we clambered out of the boat and up the steps.  A path led to the main lodge which was built up on stilts to raise it above the damp jungle floor.  We shed our muddy sandals before entering the building and padded down the polished wood floored hallway in our sock feet. After six nights of sleeping in tents on sandbars, our rooms seemed positively palatial.  For ventilation, the walls extended only partway to the ceiling, and the doors of the rooms consisted only of a curtain.  The back wall consisted of a railing separating us from the jungle.  Each room was furnished with two cots complete with mosquito netting, a small stand and a chair, and a candle for our light at night.  At the end of the hall was a communal washstand with a jug of water beside it, and pit toilets were near by.  The best treat of all was a shower!  It was a gravity system consisting of a large container on the roof which was filled with water each day and warmed by the sun.  The bamboo slat flooring of the shower allowed the water to drain out on the grass below.  What a luxury to have a warm shower as this!

The Tambopata Research Center

The Tambopata Research Center

It was past lunch time when we arrived and the lodge was no longer serving, so we got out the remaining food from our coolers for our lunch.  The dining hall where we ate was really a covered veranda, with only a railing on three sides.  Colorful macaws flew in from the jungle and perched on the rafters above us, eying our food.  One of the waiters came and flapped his apron at them trying to shoo them away, but they soon came back.  All of a sudden one of them flew down, landed on Charlie’s shoulder, then grabbed a piece of sandwich and flew away.  We all dissolved in laughter at the startled look on Charlie’s face.  It was then explained to us that these were “chicos” that had been raised at the center, which explained why they were so tame.  As macaws lay several eggs but only raise one chick, the researchers collected the eggs that would have been discarded by the parents and hatched them at the Center to increase the declining population of macaws.  Now these adult birds had gone off into the jungle and mated, bringing their mates back to the Center.

After a brief rest we gathered at the front steps and donned rubber boots for a naturalist-led hike in the jungle.  We were divided into two groups and set off down a narrow path.  Keith, David, Greg and I were in one group with Nilton who pointed out various bird and butterflies.  A big black bulge around a tree trunk was pointed out as a termite nest.  “Termites are edible,” Nilton said, and proceeded to demonstrate.  “Does anyone want to try?” he asked.  David was game, and I couldn’t let my grandson show me up, so I popped on into my mouth, too.  We all agreed they tasted pretty much like wood.

Looking down on the jungle floor we saw a waving line of green leaves.  They were leaf cutter ants, carrying food to the aphids that the ants kept in their nests.  The aphids produce a milk-like substance which the ants eat.  When we got down close to the ants, we could see each was carrying a leaf portion like a waving sail above its head. The line of ants continued a long way on the ground, then up a tree and disappeared into a hole in the trunk.

Next we went to a murky pond and Nilton produced a line with a hook.  After several throws Keith pulled out a small fish which Nilton told us was a pirhana.  He didn’t look nearly as dangerous as I thought a pirhana would, but I took Nilton’s word for it.  We threw the fish back and went on.

It was dark by now, so we turned on our headlamps to light our way to a tarantula in its den.  Nilton shined his light on a little nest and we caught a glimpse of a black shape scurrying away.  Just then something tickled my neck and I turned to see what it might be.  It probably was just a leaf, but in the darkness I stubbed my toe and fell flat on my camera.  I was fine, but my camera wasn’t.

Back at the lodge we shed our muddy boots and walked in our socks to the dining room for dinner.  Lamps on the tables and in strategic places in the dark hallways provided a lovely glow for the evening.  As Greg and David were walking back to their rooms after dinner, Greg felt something soft and squishy underfoot.  When he shone a light on it he discovered he had squished a big tarantula.

That night we set our alarms for 4:30 am so we could be up and ready to motor down river to catch the sunrise at the clay lick.  There we were joined by tourists from lodges further down river who had also come to see the sight of the parrots and macaws at the clay lick.  In hushed silence we watched the rays of the sun begin to touch the sheer walls of the cliff that rose from the river.  Soon there was a twittering  and chattering as the first group of green parrots flew in and settled on the cliff walls.  More parrots came, then a pair of blue macaws flew majestically toward the cliff, soaring and dipping in the sky.  We were told they were lookouts, ready to warn the other birds of hawks or other predators.  The cliff soon became a moving mass of color as birds perched on it, pecking at the clay for the minerals in it.  For an hour we sat entranced as the birds put on their show.  Then small groups started to leave, and at last the cliff was empty and silent.  All we heard was our own whispers of the wonder of it all.

Back at the Research Center we had another chance to enjoy macaws.  The staff were feeding the tame ones bananas, and invited us to join in.  We would take a banana in our hand and coax a bird onto our shoulders, where it would sit eating out of our hand.  I was amazed at how light the big birds are as one perched on my shoulder and dribbled banana down my neck.  I was also amazed at how such beautiful creatures could have such ugly voices.  “Braack!” was what they would say in response to my attempts at conversation.

Feeding the chicos at the TRC

Feeding the "chicos" at the TRC

All too soon it was time to load up on our launch again.  We were to start our journey back to civilization by spending the night at Posadas Amazonas, another lodge farther downstream, and then head to Puerto Maldonaldo to fly to Cusco.  It was with real sadness that we left this jungle paradise, and each one of us made the vow we would be back again some day.

{ 0 comments }

Calm Stretch on the Rio Tambopata, Peru

Calm Stretch on the Rio Tambopata, Peru

RAFTING THE TAMBOPATA by Helen Findley

It seemed as if all the children of Putino Punco had gathered to watch us set up camp in the tangerine grove.  Some must have belonged to Felix and Rosita, the farmers whose land we were on, but we never identified which they were, except for one girl who made a broom of twigs and set to sweeping the ground under the trees as a pretense to get close.  Keith became very popular when he got out his stash of balloons and started making balloon animals and soon every child had one.  While we were enjoying the children, Greg, Raul, and Willie started getting our rafting gear set up, which included putting together the raft frames and inflating the tubes.   We rafting novices were amazed at how much work it all was.

Curious as to how a Peruvian farmer lives, we began to explore our campsite on Felix’s property.  His diversified operation appeared to be one of the more prosperous of the little village.  He had guinea fowl as well as chickens wandering around in the grove where we were camped.  We could smell the coffee beans he had stored in a shed-like warehouse and there were signs that indicated that he sometimes ran a store.  His two story house would qualify more as a shanty here in the US, but it probably was better than most.  There even was an outdoor latrine which he made available for our use.

Rosita and her mother, dressed in traditional garb of bowler hat, full skirt, and no shoes, prepared our evening meal consisting of soup, another “athletic chicken,” rice and manioc.  Soon it was dark and we gratefully crawled into our tents and sleeping bags for a much needed night’s sleep.

The next morning we donned our river gear—swim suits, over which we put long sleeved shirts and long pants, hats, and socks worn with our river  sandals.  We even were prepared to use netting over our hats, and gloves, if necessary.  Greg had warned us that the biggest hazard along the river would be gnats, and we needed to be completely covered to avoid the miseries of their bites.

Felix and Rosita served us breakfast of fried eggs, rice, and manioc, which seemed to be considered a staple, along with sweetened coffee.  We ate sitting under the overhanging roof of the storeroom and talked about the challenges of the river ahead of us.  I decided to visit the kitchen, which was the palm thatched lean-to attached to the side of their house.  It was windowless and very dark, with only the doorway and the fire burning in the clay stove providing illumination.  A table was the only furniture in that small room.  How amazing that our hearty breakfast could be produced in such a simple kitchen!

That first morning we were unfamiliar with our camping gear and rafting routine and took a long time taking down our tents and stowing everything on the rafts.  Willie was in charge of the cataraft, which held most of the equipment, but each of the other two rafts also carried their share of gear.  As they packed the equipment that had been left on the riverbank all night, Raul and Willie discovered the machetes were missing.  The expensive gadgets we Americans thought we couldn’t do without were of no use to the locals and had been ignored, but machetes were something everyone there needed.  “Don’t worry,” Raul said.  “We will come to a village where they can easily be replaced.”

Loaded up at last, our little flotilla started out—Greg rowing one raft with Keith, David, and Brian aboard, Raul rowing the other with Charlie and me, and Willie manning the cataraft.  We floated past several clusters of houses and soon came to one cluster that had a store.  Willie went ashore and soon came back with two machetes that cost 11 soles (#3.50 US) each. A sobering reminder of the dangers of our drive to the river was the sight of an overturned van halfway down the side of a cliff.  We couldn’t imagine how anyone could have survived that fall.

Soon all signs of civilization were behind us, and we were alone on the river in the Tambopata Candamo Nature Reserve.  At lunchtime we pulled over to a sandbank and out from the cataraft came a table which was quickly set up.  Coolers on the rafts divulged sandwich materials, veggies, fresh fruit (including some of Felix’s tangerines).  We weren’t giving up on good food during this trip.

Along with the food we could enjoy the butterflies that were out in the warm sun.  There were little ones with iridescent blue patches on their wings, black ones with orange spots, yellow ones, other yellow ones with black stripes, and the spectacular bright blue morphos.  Overhead we could see black birds which flashed gold wings as they flew.  Raul told us they were called oro pendulas for their golden wings and their pendulous nests which we saw hanging from tree branches.

The first day the rapids were mellow—fun and splashy, but not scary.  Charlie, who had never rafted before, let out a “yippee!” on the first rapid, and I told him this was nothing compared to what was coming later.

That night we set up camp on a big sandbank inhabited by two donkeys which brayed their displeasure at being disturbed.  A ten-foot long balsa log was discovered on the beach, and David and Keith had fun playing “strong man,” posing with and tossing about the incredibly light log.  Just before sunset a flock of parrots flashed across the sky, and as night fell we watched the amazing display of the stars and constellations of the Southern Hemisphere night sky.  Delicious smells began emanating from the cook tent where Raul, Willie and Greg were preparing our evening meal.  The table in the screened dining tent was soon set, complete with table cloth and candles.  Soon, however, we were ready to turn in for the night, two to a tent—Willie and Raul, Brian and Charlie, Keith and David, and Greg and I.  It had been a good day.

We were much more efficient at packing up the second morning, and, after a great breakfast, were soon waving goodbye to our donkeys. The morning had dawned gray but turned to sunny skies a little later.  This was good, because it meant the butterflies would be out in full force, but it also was bad as the gnats would be out, too.  We learned how important it was to be covered up one day when David chose to wear shorts and also made a pit stop without spraying his bottom with bug repellant.

David managed to have fun and keep busy the whole trip.  At one place Raul told us that here the river was serving as the border between Peru and Bolivia.  David wanted to say he had been in Bolivia so we nosed our rafts over so he could touch the cliff on the Bolivian side.  When the river was calm and the two rafts floated side by side, he amused himself by crawling over to visit the one I was riding in.  When he finally decided to move back with his dad, the rafts were 4 or 5 feet apart.  “Jump,” Raul teased.  To our astonishment David did jump but missed his goal, landing in the river, losing a sandal in the process.  We were ready to think he would make the rest of the trip in his sock feet when up it popped to the surface.  It must have been stuck under the raft all the while we were searching!

After lunch we hit the big rapids—Class IV, with Class V being the most difficult you can raft.  Our clue that we were coming to a big one was Greg and Raul instructing us to put on our helmets and to take up our paddles as we approached the rapid.  We had to paddle hard to help the oarsman keep control of the raft. Even so, one big wave flung me against the seat—big bruise!  Another time Charlie’s feet flew into the air and it looked like he was going overboard.  Raul managed to grab him and push him down before he could go out.   We had passed through the worst of the rapids and begun to relax when I noticed us headed for a big hole with water rushing into it.  “Uh oh,” Raul muttered to himself, and I knew we were in trouble.  As we dropped into the hole I leaned hard into the raft’s high side as Greg had taught me and we didn’t flip.

That night we were cold and wet as we made camp.  Dry clothes and hot food soon revived us, though it wasn’t long before we all tumbled into our sleeping bags for the night.

As we gathered for coffee the next morning we learned that Keith had suffered from diarrhea all night and wasn’t feeling at all well.  Some aspirin and a little breakfast revived him enough for him to join us on an exploratory hike up a side stream.  We climbed over boulders and waded through the stream to a spot where natural pools formed a bathtub.  Out came the camp suds and we bathed as efficiently as one can while wearing a swimsuit for modesty.

This day was a series of big rapids, but without the strong winds of the day before which had kept all of us feeling cold.  Keith, being ill, was freezing, however, and put on a wet suit, rain gear and a splash jacket on top of everything else and still shivered uncontrollably.  Despite being worried about Keith we still had fun, making it safely through the rapid Raul had dubbed “the washing machine.”  On another rapid only hanging on for dear life kept Charlie and me from washing overboard.  Greg, who had been watching us from the other raft, told us later he had been sure we were going to flip in that rapid.

A big event of the day was spotting a four-foot long caiman on the riverbank.  We were able to come close to him before Brian’s camera flash scared him off and he slipped into the water and swam away.

Late that afternoon, by now thoroughly drenched and cold, we were eager to make camp and get into dry clothes, but on this stretch of the river good sites were few and far between.  As we scouted several possibilities, Greg kept reminding us that we had to be far enough from the water to be safe should it rain in the mountains and the river rise in the night.  At last we found a spot Greg deemed suitable.  Quickly Keith’s tent was set up and he was put to bed.  David became Greg’s helper in making a great burrito dinner, while Raul baked a chocolate cake.  I helped by chopping peppers for the salsa and made the mistake of licking my fingers afterwards–ouch!  Before getting to bed we spread out wet clothes out on a log, hoping against hope that they would dry overnight.

We woke to an eerily beautiful morning as dense fog filled the river valley. As we breakfasted on pancakes and bacon we watched the fog roll through the river channel while the sun burned off the mist on the mountains behind us. Again, before leaving this spot, we made an exploratory hike up the side creek.  David tried to hack our way through the jungle but soon gave up.  Even the new machete was no match for the dense foliage.  David skipped through the stream while I waded laboriously.  I heard him ask his dad, “Why is Grandma so slow?”  Keith replied, “Maybe when you are as old as Grandma you won’t go so fast, either.”

As we returned to camp  a howler monkey’s cry could be heard faintly in the distance.  Our tents were still very wet, so we moved them into the sun to dry before packing up and passed the time looking at butterflies and insects while David had fun playing with the GPS.  Willie showed us a “bullet ant” whose bite, he said, will give extreme pain and cause a 24-hour fever.

This day’s rafting was easier as the river was widening, giving us no big rapids.  David took a turn rowing, then Keith, then I tried.  David showed himself to be a natural at rafting, learning a difficult turn and beginning to read the river, a skill important for a rafter.  We found many tapir tracks and droppings on the sandbank where we stopped for lunch, and later we found tracks of a large cat on another sandbank.  We thought those must be of a jaguar.   How we hoped we would spot that very elusive cat sometime.

That evening brought actual animal sightings.  We had spread out our tents on a large sandbank separated from the water by a huge rocky beach.  While the rest of the group sat in camp having a relaxing drink I went down to the water to wash the sand from my socks.  As I turned back I spotted two tapir wandering into the camp behind the others who were totally unaware of our visitors.  As I tried to get their attention my involuntary “Look!” scared the tapir away, and my companions saw only their backs as they meandered off.

About 5:30 pm we went to collect the clothing we had spread out on rocks to dry, but we were too late.  The heavy dew had them wetter than when we had put them out!  They didn’t dry overnight, either, because the next morning the fog was so thick we could barely see across the river.  Waiting for our tents to dry before we packed them up gave us an excuse for another leisurely breakfast and enjoying the campsite before setting off for the day’s adventures.

Lunch was at a magically lovely spot where a little stream rushed into the main river, As Greg, Willie and Raul set up the food, David had a blast going upstream and floating down while I washed my hair in the pool formed by a little waterfall.  Charlie and Brian scouted around and soon came back to report they had found really fresh jaguar tracks nearby! That added some excitement–We were getting so close; maybe we would actually see one.

With all those tracks we kept hoping to see animals, but with the dense foliage lining the river banks, all we saw were birds–macaws, parrots, king fishers and cormorants.  Finally Greg spotted a caiman, but it quickly slithered into the river before we could shoot him with our cameras.  Then jiggling branches indicated the presence of monkeys.  A big black spider monkey swung through the trees, the movement of the branches making it possible for us to follow his route even when he himself was obscured by foliage.  Late in the afternoon Greg’s raft came very close to a tapir swimming in the river.  The animal’s poor eyesight kept him totally oblivious to our presence.  That night’s camp site provided a wealth of animal tracks—capybara, ocelot, and tapir, Raul told us.

The next day, our last full day of rafting, found the river wide and with a slow current, giving our oarsmen a workout, but also giving us a chance to play in the warm water.  David and Raul had a jumping-off-the-raft contest to see who could make the most spectacular flip and biggest splash.  Soon we all were enjoying the water. We did have a dilemma, however.  The plan was for us to be picked up by a motorized launch the next morning at the junction of the Tambopata and Tavera Rivers.  Greg and Raul had quite a discussion as to which side stream was the Tavera, as they all looked alike.  Raul thought we had gone too far, and Greg, using his GPS, said that we actually hadn’t gone quite far enough and would miss our ride if we didn’t go on.  At last we came to a spot they could agree on and pulled the rafts out of the water.

We celebrated our last night on the river with a sumptuous meal, complete with Pisco sours, a traditional Peruvian drink  I thought of Cecil who had unselfishly urged me to take this trip with my sons even though  his inability to tolerate high altitudes kept him from coming along.  We all hoped he would know we were toasting him on this, our forty-fifth wedding anniversary.

That night it rained again, giving us our usual wet gear the next morning.  To give things a chance to dry out, we ate a leisurely breakfast and lounged around before starting to pack up.  Our launch wasn’t due until 10 am, and we had plenty of time.  But at 7 am a long, narrow boat carrying the first people we had seen in six days motored up.  Raul shouted, “the boat!”  while Charlie, who was beginning to think that civilization might be nice after all, shouted, “We’re rescued!”

{ 0 comments }

PERU ADVENTURE by Helen Findley

“Tomorrow we hit the mud,” Greg announced as we sat eating our evening meal in the Sandia hotel.  It was June, 2000 and the “we” were myself, my three adult sons, Brian, Keith, and Greg, my 13 year old grandson David (Keith’s son), and Charlie Fox, Brian’s friend and co-worker and Willie, our Peruvian guide.

“I can’t wait,” was David’s eager reply.  “You may be sorry,” Greg warned him.

We had spent a long day of driving across the Andes from Puno on the shores of Lake Titicaca in Peru, toward our destination of Putina Punco on the banks of the Rio Tambopata.  Puno had been very interesting, we had enjoyed the market where we bought alpaca gloves, scarves and sweaters knitted by local women and sold for incredibly low prices after the mandatory bargaining.  Even better was visiting ancient tombs built by the predecessors of the Incas and then the boat ride on Lake Titicaca to see the floating reed islands still inhabited by the Uros people.  The highlight there was visiting the floating schoolhouse and having the children sing to us, their weather beaten red cheeks and runny noses showing the effects of the winter cold and the altitude of 12,000 feet.  At our hotel we had gratefully accepted cups of coca tea to help us deal with the altitude, but even so, David had succumbed to it, throwing up his dinner that evening.

The next morning Willie had joined us with our rafting gear, and we started toward the adventure part of our trip.  A van took us to Juliaca, where we and all our supplies, two inflatable rafts an inflatable cataraft, camping gear and food were loaded on to a bus that had been rented for the expedition. We weren’t happy about the bus, which reeked of the oil spread all over the floor.  We couldn’t wipe it completely up, and later learned it served a purpose, that of keeping down the dust from the dirt roads. Now, besides our original group we added our bus driver, the bus’s owner, Nancy, and her friend, who wanted to go along for the ride as far as the river.

The adventure started about 45 minutes after leaving Juliaca.  The highway had just turned from pavement to dirt surface when our bus gave a screech and died.  The driver tinkered a while with the motor to no avail.  The only thing to do was to sit there until a huge open truck loaded with goods and people sitting on top of the goods stopped to help us.  After much jimmying, the two drivers  got the bus started and we were on our way again.

We were climbing the western slope of the Andes Mountains, but the climb was gentle with no sharp turns or drop-offs.  The land was barren and dry; after all, it was winter.  We saw a few small houses which appeared to be made of adobe and children herding groups of llamas.   Greg pointed out a group of vicuna, animals which have wool even softer than alpacas.  As we got higher there were no more houses and the groups of animals were no longer herded but seemed to be left to roam unattended.  It was a bleak and forbidding landscape.

Soon we hit an area with a light covering of snow, and then it began spitting snow.  Greg took readings on his GPS and determined that we were close to 16,000 feet in altitude.  Brian turned to me and said in amazement, “Mom, your lips are purple!”  We laughed as we saw what the altitude had done to our complexions and were glad we had taken our doses of diamox.  Even so, we all were very lethargic and several of our party complained of splitting headaches.

At the top of the pass we had a rest stop, and Nancy, the owner went into a metal shed-like building.  Curious, I followed her, to discover that it was a chapel and she had gone to pray for safe travel.  Good thing she did, as we had enough troubles ahead even with her saints protecting us!

Going down the eastern side was very different from going up.  It was much more rugged, there were hairpin turns, and the drop offs were steep.  It was also much greener—all the moisture from the ocean is dropped on the eastern side of the Andes Mountains.  Gradually we drove out of the snow and came to lush foliage which brought “oohs” and “ahs” from all of us.

It was dusk by the time we reached the little town of Sandia, our destination for the night.  As we drove through the town looking for our hotel we had to drive twice through the stream which wound rushing through the middle of the town.

Greg, who had taken clients on this same trip just two weeks earlier, assured us that this was a new hotel, less than a year old, and provided the best accommodations available.  What a hoot!  It was dirty, it looked like the painters had left in the middle of their job, and nothing worked.  Keith thought he’d take a shower before dinner and found only a cold water tap, but turning it on yielded nothing.  Keith awoke in the middle of the night to find the water running from that tap!  During the night I rolled over in bed and heard a loud crash under me.  No light would go on, and since the bed seemed to be OK, I went back to sleep.  In the morning’s light I discovered that a slat supporting the mattress had fallen off my bed.

Raul, our main guide, arrived as we were eating breakfast the next morning.  Because of weather he hadn’t been able to get a plane from Puerto Maldonaldo to Juliaca  so had been forced to drive all night to meet us, but now our little expedition was complete.

As we left Sandia we were thrilled to pass through the Sunday market.  We could forget our night’s primitive accommodations as we enjoyed the picturesque town perched on the side of the mountain.  At the market women wearing  their bowler hats and  full skirts that stuck out almost like tutus were carrying colorful blankets filled with their  goods to sell.  We hated to leave, but our destination was the river and white water rafting, and we needed to go on.

The drive down the mountainside was enchanting.  Everywhere  there were flowering trees and vines.  The road led us through mountain streams, and we stopped to enjoy several beautiful waterfalls.  Mid morning we stopped in a little town for a break and a snack of fruit.  “When are we coming to that mud?” David asked eagerly.  “Very soon,” was Greg’s reply as David danced a jig in anticipation..  That glee soon turned into dismay for the rest of us.   Rains, unusual for what was supposed to be the dry season, had turned the roads to a morass. Just outside the town the wet, single lane road became mud.  Big busses and trucks, like the one that had rescued us the day before, seemed to be the only traffic, and their huge tires and heavy loads had created deep ruts in the road.  Soon we were mired.   Out came the shovels and pick axes to dig us out and lower the road where we were high centered.  We passengers got out, rolled up our pant legs, and tried to help.

This scenario was repeated every few miles.  One place we met a big bus coming from the opposite direction.  We couldn’t move at all, and they couldn’t get past us.  Somehow a chain materialized and the bigger bus pulled us down the mountain until we came to a spot wide enough for the two to pass.

Mid afternoon we came to a little village where there were people milling about or sitting on the ground.  We learned that there were ten or twelve busses and trucks stuck down the road ahead of us and these were the passengers who had walked on ahead.  We were told we had to wait until their vehicles had gone past before there would even be room for us to go ahead.  If these powerful vehicles were having trouble, we knew our little bus would never make it.  What to do?

Finally it was decided that we would wait in this little town until a truck going our way came along.  We would see if it would take us and our gear the rest of the way to Putina Punco while Nancy and her bus would have to find some way to get themselves home.  Turning around seemed impossible on this narrow road hemmed in by houses in the village and with no shoulder in the countryside.  Nancy, the owner was very unhappy, but there was nothing we could do about getting her back home to Juliaca  and the party she was to attend that night.

People in the village told us a truck was expected to come through around 10 pm.  It was now about 3:30, and we hadn’t had lunch yet, as it was waiting at the river, Raul and Willie decided to see what they could find for us to eat, and left to explore the village, which consisted of just this one road and a few houses.  We amused ourselves by walking down the road a bit to see if any of the stuck trucks were coming, and the people in the village amused themselves by watching us.  One by one the vehicles blocking our way freed themselves and roared up the road on their way to Juliaca.

Finally Raul and Willie came back with the news that the only food the village offered was a live chicken which they described as very “athletic.”  The only way it would be edible was as soup.  It wasn’t much food, but it was good and complemented the snacks we had dug out from our gear.   Cold, wet, and muddy, we ate our supper on the crowded bus.

Darkness fell, and so did rain.  We tried to make ourselves comfortable in the bus, but the arms on the seats made it impossible for us to stretch out and the oil on the floor made that unthinkable.   About 11 pm, two trucks came by.  One drove right on past us, but the other agreed to take us on after the driver had a sleep.  He said we would leave around 3 am.

Chilled in the mountain air, we huddled in our rain gear and tried to sleep.  I had finally   dozed off when we were roused and they started loading our gear on a huge, high-sided open-topped truck.  It was 4 am and drizzling.   At last everything was on top of the already heavily loaded truck, and we climbed a ladder to get aboard, trying to settle ourselves somewhat comfortably amid metal raft frames, oars, and boxes of gear.  There were passengers already on the truck, riding under a canopy just behind the cab, and they weren’t happy with the delay.  “Vamose!” they shouted to the driver, banging on the rear cab window above them, and giving us dirty looks because of the delay.

Our relief at being on our way soon turned to terror.  The truck lurched and swayed as it waddled through the mud and ruts.  In the darkness we were unable to see the road, but we knew that on one side of us was the mountain, while on the other was a sheer drop off.  The potholes were huge, some four feet or more deep, and it felt as if we would plunge down the mountainside at any moment.  Once the truck fishtailed, then tilted hard toward the cliff side. Sure that we were going over, I quietly said my goodbyes to the world.  It was OK for me to die, but for my sons and grandson, who had so much life ahead of them, it would be terrible.   Despite our being wet and cold as well as frightened,  no one said a word of complaint.  I was especially proud of David, who only years later admitted to having been afraid.

Finally it grew light and our mental picture of the hazards was confirmed.  At times it seemed we would crash into the side of the mountain, and then we would come perilously close to toppling over the cliff on the other side.  Despite all this, the local passengers seemed unperturbed.  The mothers nursed their babies, the children slept peacefully, and the adults just sat calmly.

As we came to villages on this only road in the whole area, people would get off and goods purchased in Juliaca, the only commercial center anywhere near, would be unloaded—bags of potatoes, eggs, school books, rubber boots, bottles of soda pop, and other unknown articles.  As the truck emptied, I could now try to get comfortable by standing braced against the metal raft frame. A big lurch sent me flying so I that I banged my head on a pole and then landed on top of Brian with my foot wedged between two crates.  If he hadn’t been there I could easily have broken my leg.  Next I tried sitting up high on some of the gear, but decided to move lower when I realized that another lurch could have thrown me onto the blade of a shovel stashed there.

The process of meeting and passing vehicles coming from the other way was amazing.  One of the vehicles would have to back up until a wide spot in the road was reached.  Then the two would squeeze past each other, with only inches between them and inches away from dropping off the cliff. Involuntarily we held our breaths until we had passed.

About 10:30 in the morning the truck came to a halt in a clearing surrounded by several houses.  This was Putina Punco, the end of the road and of our ride.  The last passengers got off and the remaining goods were unloaded.  Then the truck backed down an incline leading to a footbridge across the river.  Local people crowded around, ready to help carry our gear across to our first campsite.   To save carrying the heaviest loads, Raul and Willie lowered several  casks of supplies over the cliff to the water’s edge. The rope broke on the second cask and it went crashing down into the river where the rushing water carried it away, never to be seen again.  Luckily it contained only things we didn’t absolutely need.

Despite that mishap we soon setting up our tents in the tangerine grove belonging to Felix and Rosita.  We had come for a rafting adventure only to find that getting to the rafting was the biggest adventure of all!

{ 0 comments }