World Peru Cusco Kunkani

Parlow Family Travels Perusing Peru

Lares trek day 2 - Kuncani - Kurus Qasa - Wakawasi Valley - Ipsaycocha Jun 20, 2007

Our second day on trek started with a slight rap on our tent flap and a steaming cup of hot coffee or tea. The tent exterior is covered with ice and there is slight ice skin in our water bottle. A basin of hot water soon appears for whatever slap and tickle washing is going to get done at these icy temps!

Breakfast in the dining tent is a core-warming quinoa porridge followed by vegetable omelet and bread. Quinoa, which is making a resurgence in the west, is a very important grain here in Peru. It's a small grain almost like a miniature barley with a nutty flavour --very tasty.

This is our big day with about 8 hours of trekking ahead of us. The morning is meant to be a mixed bag of flat, down or gentle upward slopes, while the afternoon will be another steep ascent to a second pass at 4200m.

I've given yesterday's breathing struggles a lot of thought and conclude that the problem was letting my breathing get too laboured before throttling back. I decide to try a new tactic of maintaining my breathing by altering my pace so that I never get so out of breath that I feel like I am drowning.

I learned in Nepal that I need a device to occupy my mind when I'm tackling a difficult ascent as my lack of patience is often the biggest hurdle I face. I had tried counting, and finding a tune to run through my mind, but I really found my pace when I came up with the metaphor of the metronome.

The metronome, as you probably know, is a small machine to count the beat in music. Typically I use the metronome to understand the speed of a piece of music and sometimes to help me regulate my speed as I am learning a piece of music. In trekking, I resolved to make my breathing like the metronome......even, regular and unwavering -- almost machine-like. My steps became like the notes of the music, altering to stay in step with the regular beat of the metronome. Finally, my heartbeat in the background was like a regular percussive beat...not exactly synchronized with my breathing but in regular time with it. This took real discipline, as sometimes --to keep my breathing regular -- I was moving at a snail's pace, one step at a time. But the difference was that I never got completely out of breath, so I could just keep going and going. It really seemed to be working.

The morning saw us trek up from our campsite and around a mountainside until we descended into a river valley at Kunkani Village. We're trekking over tundra-like scruff comprised of grasses, lichens, fungus and other small hardy plants. Occassionally, a small yellow or purple flower would wave bravely in the cool breeze. There is not one single path but parallel paths that have been walked by llamas, alpaca and horses for generations. We pass through tiny settlement after tiny settlement and meet many kids and their parents on the way.

We climb to a small pass at Kurus qasa (Warm Pass in Quechua) where we stop for our snack -- oranges, quinoa and dried fruit granola bars, and water. The view from the pass is astounding. Even though our ascent has been gradual, it has been unrelenting and we are very high now above the stream we crossed.

Continuing on, we make our way to our lunch spot at Chajchapata (site of loose rock). Once again, it is a real treat to have our lunch spot all set up and great smells coming from the cooking tent. The cooks work very hard, as they not only cook for us, they then pack up and walk the same trail we do, except that they need to do it faster so that they can have the next spot set up for us and the next meal going before we get there. It's very humbling to see these small but very tough guys singing and chatting as they whiz by us on the trail!

As we wait for lunch, we sun ourselves on the rock piles that are prevalent around this area. All the little settlements are demarcated with rock fences, corrals and houses; it's a way of both clearing the land and making use of the only natural resource around as there are virtually no trees around at all. Lunch is an amazing lomo saltado, a typical Peruvian dish that is very much like a stir fry with strips of beef and vegetables.

We strike out on our afternoon ascent knowing it's going to be tough. The weather has changed and it's dark and cloudy, making the ascent feel a little bit ominous. I really have to concentrate on my breathing and using resting steps to continue on and I'm ever so thankful for the terrific walking stick that Dan picked up for me in Ollantaytambo. Robin has had a lot of trouble breathing and has been told by the guides that he must spend at least some of the afternoon on Alfredo. While he's not happy with the idea, he knows it's the right thing to do.

The group spreads out over the 6 km ascent and soon I can see none of my group and the trail looks uncertain to me. I come face to face with a pig but in its head-on position, I'm not really sure what it is and ask it out loud if it is a pig or a capobari. At the sound of my voice, it turns tail and I confirm that it is indeed a pig. Whose pig or where it lived was a mystery. Viscacha (Andean rabbits with a tail like a squirrel) and Andean geese frolic in the boggy fields. Above me, the sky is crystal blue, and the sun is brutally strong.

I lose the trail and feel the acid bile of panic in my throat. I climb up the highest point I could see and catch sight of our head guide, Patricia, ahead. Phew! The light is strange now -- almost yellow and the sun is behind a cloud. I'm alternately chilled and sweating, but with the pass ahead, I can't add any layers.

Step after step, plod after plod, breath after breath. This is how I continue for nearly 3 hours until finally, I make Ipsayqocha pass at 4400m. I'm all alone at this ridge, with the ground falling steeply away both behind me and ahead of me. I can hardly believe I have made it as I was quite sure after yesterday's struggles that I would have to spend some time on Alfredo as well. It's an emotional moment for me as I look back at where we had come from and forward to where we were going.

Just before the pass, I met Juan Carlos heading back down from the pass with Alfredo. I feel slightly indignant thinking that I certainly hoped they didn't think I needed a ride. He didn't -- one of our group was dangerously fatigued and cold behind me and Juan Carlos was taking the pony back for him. It reminded me just how tricky these mountains can be especially for those of us unused to the extreme altitudes.

The wind is blowing too hard to stay for long although I add as many layers as I feel I can as I set off down valley towards our next campsite. It's a quick walk to our next campsite with more herds of llamas and alpacas hanging out, heading home for the night. I arrive at the campsite to find that some of the local women had arrived with a variety of drinks for sale -- beer, pop, maybe even some pisco. We crack a beer and celebrate having made the toughest pass.

Priority 1 is getting our tent set up differently to make sure the boys don't freeze tonight. We take a larger tent and put all 4 thermarests amd sleeping bag in it and all of our gear in the second tent. No one really wants to go through this exercise but we do the best we can before getting into warm clothes and heading in the dining tent for tea. Once again, the best popcorn in the world and small deep-fried wonton wrappers filled with cheese or apples fill our empty bellies. Patricia broke out a small bottle of sugar cane rum which we drank with hot water, sugar and lime juice. Another amazing dinner of stuffed chicken breasts and chocolate pudding before we roll into bed.

Four in a tent is never an easy scenario but when it's -15 C outside it's even tougher. We put the boys in the centre and Dan and I on the outside but we were all very restless. Finally we all fell into fitful sleeps punctuated by periods of wakefullness but at least we were all warm.

A few words about the Andean people we meet along the way....

The people are dressed in the most colourful clothing imaginable, much of it handwoven using traditional patterns. Both the men and women wear colourful hats that are dripping with beads, pom poms and ribbons. They really seem to be for adornment, not protection as they are not warm nor do they cover their ears. And they most certainly are their every-day clothes, not costumes they have put on for us! They all wear the identical leather sandals and bare legs and feet; even the tiniest of tots has bare feet in these little sandals.

The children are dark-eyed and solemn but are friendly and will come forward to interact with us. Their skin is darkened by the sun and they have dusky red cheeks; their skin has the sheen of windburn but is soft and smooth to the touch. As the temperature plummeted, I could not get the image of their tiny toes out my mind with no protection from the cruel cold. As a people, they are small and very compact with fine boned frames. We rarely hear crying or fighting amongst the children and everyone seems genuinely happy to see us. The elders accept our offerings of coca leaves with dignified thanks and the children invariably thank us for our small items.