It was actually touch and go until the last minute that we'd actually start the trip today (the 17th) and not tomorrow. Last night, when we met up at the travel agerncy to meet our guide, the owner revealed that no one else had joined our group and if it were to be the two of us we'd have to pay more, but if we waited a day we could go with a group of four others. I wanted to go alone because I wanted to see Machu Picchu on the solstice, which we would miss were we to wait. Andrew wanted to get in on a group. We were on the verge of flipping a coin for it when a Dutchman, Niels Pannevis, showed up and joined us. He'd spent the past few months teaching English in a village outside Cusco.
At any rate, we were set and so we showed up at the agency at 0530, as per our arrangement from the night before. However, this being Peru, the guide and the bus that was to take us to the start point didn't show up for another twenty minutes. Niels fell victim to Peruvian timing when the hostel he was staying at gave him his 5am wake-up call at 5:30. Despite of all of this, we clambered into the van and set out on the four hour ride to where we'd begin the trek.
At one point, Andrew tapped me on the shoulder, waking me from my drooling nap. I lifted the hat from my face, rubbed my eyes, and was treated to Andean splendor. There we were winding down a mountain road and passing through little Peruvian villages. On the other side of the valley I could see terraces and fields of crops growing; we were so high up that a cloud was floating beneath us in the center of the valley. Boor that I am, I took a thirty second look at all of that, decided I was gonna see plenty of that in the next few days, and promptly went back to sleep.
We stopped at a little village a few miles from the start point to procure horses for the extra gear. Andrew, Niels, and I were resolved on carrying our big packs on the entire trip, which had befuddled the tour agency owner, Liz, and our guide, Jose Luis, since the normal practice is to strap the big packs to horses and carry "day" packs while hiking. We had determined we were going to be macho, so we were carrying all of our gear. The horses were just for the cooking supplies and the guide's and cook's gear.
While Jose Luis was getting the horses arranged, I bought coca leaves (illegal in the States), which, I had been told, were the best medicine for altitude sickness, be it by chewing on them or making tea with them. Andrew and I then strolled over to the village restaurant/bar/store and bought two cokes for about $0.35 apiece. The proprietor's young daughter, maybe five years old, came out to stare at us. After polishing off the drink, I asked to use the facilities, which turned out, surprisingly, to be a toilet and not just a hole in the ground. It was located out in the back courtyard, in a homemade shed. When I'd finished up, I looked at the view of the mountains, which were spectacular of course, and then at the courtyard. There was an animal carcass, halfway through the process of being tanned, on the roof of the toilet shed and across the way, under a corrogated metal roof was the family's dining room table. All along the wall next to the table were newspaper advertisements and a calendar that caught my eye.
Simply put, it was of a topless white woman, which seems to me to be the perfect set piece for dining decor. While mildly shocking in its own right, the calendar just drove home somthing that I'd noticed since we first got to Peru. We'd not seen a white Peruvian yet, but most all of the advertisements featured white women. Very strange.
We got back on the bus, and headed up an unpaved mountain road that seemed to be no more than a wide foot path. We passed a group of hiking "gringoes" (Whities) and stopped to pick up the porters who were carrying the gringoes gear; they were women. I felt disgusted about Western Civilization.
As we got farther up the road/path, the bus got stuck in mud. Having not broken myself of directing operations yet, I was sorely tempted to take charge, but Andrew reminded me that they had it all taken care of, which, eventually, they did.
Finally, we got to our start point. The bus dropped us and the gear off and then headed back to Cusco. Jose Luis told us we'd be eating lunch. I don't know what we'd really been figuring on, but when Jose Luis set up a table, with a table cloth, and Percy, the cook, put on his white apron and chef's hat, we felt awkward. There we were, attempting to be tough, and we were being fawned over like any old spoiled Americans. That they served us tea before the meal didn't help our egos, nor did the group of Europeans who had hiked up and decided to take a break twenty yards away. The meal was multi-course and finished off with yet more tea. I'm so ashamed writing this...
After we'd eaten, Andrew tied to speak to the cook, Percy. He did very well introducing himself, correctly saying "Me llamo Andrew" (I call myself Andrew), though he got a bit ahead of himself when he tried to introduce me by saying, "Te llamo Andre." Amusingly, that sounded exactly like "Te amo, Andre" (I love you, Andre).
We started off and Andrew and I flew up the path far ahead of Niels and Jose Luis. Jose Luis had said that the path was flat, which to an Andean Peruvian it probably seemed like it was; to us though, we recognized it as a constant, though not difficult, ascent. Andrew led the way; frankly, he's a better hiker than I am. A guide, not Jose Luis, but one from another group who Jose Luis asked to run up ahead and herd us, pointed to a steep path directly up the mountain, off the main path we were on and led us up it. OOOOPPPHHH! We could handle the ten degree slope with no problem, but the fifty degree dang near killed us. And he did that two us twice. I had a suspicion he was just doing that to put the gringoes in their place, which, for me at least, it did; I was smoked. We took a break and Niels and Jose Luis caught up. Jose Luis assured us "the rest is flat." See my earlier comments on his estimation of flat.
From about that point on (we'd pretty much passed the tree line), I couldn't catch my breath if we went uphill. The higher we went the slower I went, to the point where Niels had passed me and Jose Luis was staying back to keep an eye on me. I was gasping and my pulse was so high that I felt my neck and head throbbing in time with it.
I stumbled into our campsite, feeling slightly nauseous at that point. I resolved then and there NOT to carry my pack the next day. Jose Luis pointed out condors circling around the top of the snow capped mountain next to us. I admired them as much as I could without fainting. Jose Luis was excited because he hadn't seen condors up there before.
Andrew and I set up the tent and then slept while we waited for Percy and the horses. It took forever for my hands to warm, even though I was nestled in my zero degree (fahrenheit) sleeping bag. After an hour, Jose Luis woke us, telling us that the coca leaf tea was ready. We still had headaches but our breathing was better; my stomach felt worse.
I had two cups of the tea while we sat around the table in the cooking tent taking about politics and the Army. The tea wasn't helping. I ate three spoonfuls of soup, excused myself, went outside, and threw up repeatedly. I didn't consider eating, but instead went back to my tent, cleaned myself up, and went to sleep.
We'd walked nine miles, going from 3100 meters (10,230 feet) to 3800 meters (12,540 feet).
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