Trekking lesson: Acceptance of the weather.

Guided trips in Peru start early:

I was startled awake at 3am by a battery of fireworks behind my hostel in Cusco, Peru. Locals are preparing for the San Blas Festival, but it is more than a week away. With my mind fuzzy, I roll over and try to sleep for a few more hours, but it’s useless. The shock was too strong and the explosions continued approximately every 20 minutes. Well, it’s time to set my goals for the day. Jason and I are going on a road trip to Rainbow Mountain today and I’m excited to go on this adventure. The plan is to climb to over 16,000 feet, which is a new record for both of us. This will be a great day to test out the high mountain clothing system we’ve cobbled together, and I’d love to take some great photos of Rainbow Mountain.

Winding roads generate excitement

After coffee and cactus fruits, we hopped into the van for a three-hour drive. We crossed the countryside, noticing the mountains, the terraces and the small towns. Each town has a specialty: roasted pork rinds, huge round breads, corn on the cob, and guinea pig. It’s pretty light outside, so I put on my sunglasses and think about the great lighting for the mountain photos. John, our Quechua tour guide, informs us that we are about an hour away as we pull off the pavement onto a level dirt road. We begin to wind and ascend through the mountains, the trees are lush and green, the terraces above are full of corn and we can see llamas and alpacas grazing on the side of the road. Soon the road becomes steeper and more bumpy, it is now cloudy and a light fog is falling. The trees stopped around 12,000 feet and the landscape changed to tundra, agricultural terraces and green grazing areas interspersed with stone houses. The fog turns to steady rain as we ascend, our guide assures us that the rains usually disappear after about an hour, but to prepare now with our rain gear, hats and gloves. They give us a briefing on altitude sickness and give us instructions on breaks. John hands him a bottled elixir of Andean herbs to help with the altitude. We rub our hands with the elixir and deeply inhale the strong, sweet aroma of mint. The air smells fresh and my nostrils open with the indigenous medicine.

The rain adds to the challenge

John informs the group about the trail, its length, how much elevation change, and that horses are available for those who cannot tolerate the altitude. We step aside and make the request. Can we get ahead of the group? We are training and we want to exceed our limits. He chuckled and said, go ahead, I’ll catch you on the way up. We began the ascent at 15,353 feet. The trail is a pleasant traverse of about 2 miles and then two steep climbs to the top. We can see figures on the ridge in the distance, no problem. The rain is constant and cold. The trail turns into sticky mud, my breathing quickens. I evaluate my current production and energy level. I remember just 4 days ago how difficult it was to climb a steep hill at 12,000 feet. I stop to take a few deep breaths and continue toward the top. The summit is slippery and wet and freezing rain hits my cheeks. I turn around with camera ready, filled with anticipation. The mountain is shrouded in dense fog. The pain of disappointment is brief but present. No pretty photos of Rainbow Mountain today. I take a photo of the fog and snow flurries to remember the day.

We looked at our watches at 16,540 feet, a new record for both of us. We smiled at the achievement and headed to the base to wait for John and the group. He arrives a few minutes later and we recognize his disadvantage, that his backpack fits heavy rescue equipment and an oxygen tank. We waited for the rest of the group, shivering and chatting. John leans in conspiratorially and says we also have time to walk through the Red Valley. It’s not part of the tour, but he knows we can complete the extra hike in time to meet the van at the checkpoint.

Unexpected views, plans for another trip.

We take advantage of the vote of confidence and travel a kilometer or so to Red Valley. The sky begins to clear and we begin to see iron and copper fans on the ground and the shapes of mountains in the distance. Anticipation is building quickly, this view will be something special.

As you go around the mountain traverse, the Red Valley opens up, beautiful, fertile and inspiring. The locals point towards the viewpoint and I get the spectacular landscape photos I was hoping for. I see multiple trails leading from the viewpoint and curves winding through the valley. My mind immediately starts planning another trip. We could organize a stay with a family or two, walk along the ridge and into the countryside…

back to the present

Unfortunately, I realize that now is the only time I will experience this valley. There is simply too much world to see. I return my mind to the present and concentrate. I feel the stinging breeze on my face, I look at the burnt ocher soil that extends towards the mountains, contrasting with the emerald green grass of the terraces. I see llamas and alpacas grazing below me. I take off my gloves to inhale the lingering aroma of Andean herbs on my hands. This was a perfect day, no matter the weather, no matter the view or lack thereof. I remind myself why I travel to remote places with no guarantee of success. I am grateful to be present on this earth. I’m grateful that my untested gear kept me warm and dry. I am grateful that my husband was with me and that we are healthy enough to continue pursuing our dreams.

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