Hiking in the Andes, Part II - No Secrets

The thing about going on a trek and spending every waking moment with other people is that you get to know your companions pretty well. You learn so much more about them and their interests, what delights them or makes them tick. And then there is the undeniable fact that along with this opportunity to get to know people better, you get to know everything that goes on in their existence on the trip, and vice versa. Case in point: The 2nd day of hiking, I became very familiar with the two telltale signals that my body was giving me when at elevation. One, the headache that I had mentioned previously. Two, needing to relieve myself EVERY HOUR. Now, at sea level, I need to use the restroom once every 4 hours or so depending on the amount of liquid consumed. But over 10,000 feet, my body needed to expel so often that anyone hiking with me knew about it. I wasn't the only one. So-and-so has to go? Here, I have a roll of TP. So-and-so has diarrhea? I think I may have some pepto. It was rather ridiculous. But in such an environment, no one had cause to feel ashamed or self-concious. We all became very matter-of-fact. This is one of the reasons why I chose to go to Peru instead of one of the other chosen destinations. At 14,000 feet with no showers, toilets, alternative forms of amusement, or privacy, walls come down quickly and people get real.

On our 2nd day of hiking, we reached the highest point of our trip. Icy Cold Camp was located just short of the pass at 15,000 feet, which afforded us stunning views of Salkantay and the valley below. Salkantay, also referred to as Apu Salkantay by locals that speak Quechua (the language of the ancient Incans), stands at over 20,500 feet and is a beautiful glacier. Apu means 'God' in Quechua - the Incans believed that the mountain carried a spirit and worshipped Salkantay. We stopped at the top of the pass to admire the scenery and take pictures, and then headed down to the valley below. I had walked down for about an hour from the top of the pass when the nausea and headache became tough to handle. So I got back onto a horse, and rode down for the rest of the way.



By this point, I had become familiar enough with the horses to pick the most well-behaved specimen. Tame enough, in fact, so that I was able to guide him on my own using the reins instead of relying on the horseman to lead him. Instead of being frightened to death, I was now very much at ease on the horse and able to enjoy the scenery. This lovely animal's only flaw was the soundtrack that he provided to accompany the scenery - he was an amazingly prolific farter. Especially during the climbs, I believe that my gentle horse was capable of farting Beethoven's 5th Symphony. But considering that I was on top of him, I didn't really mind. And I was sure to warn my fellow hikers not to walk behind or downwind of him.

The change in scenery was quite impressive on the 2nd day. We started off on a dry, cold, craggy, and barren cliff that had little vegetation and mostly rocks. From here, we could see the snow-laden Salkantay. Hiking downhill, we went through a dusty trail in a dry forest. Across the valley, one could see another mountain covered in lush forest fed by the melting snow. We then transitioned to warm, grassy valleys fed by a river. Some of the valley was low enough to be muddy and marshy. After crossing a fast-flowing river ON THE HORSE (*gulp*, can't I just ride the horse across the suspension bridge??), we reached camp a short while later and settled in for the evening.



That evening's camp was a bit below 10,000 feet. Although it hadn't been a particularly bad day, my head was still throbbing from the altitude. So I decided to forego dinner that evening and retire early. The lack of sleep took precedence over the lack of food, and I needed to rest. One of the nicer memories that I have of that evening was when my tentmate came in after dinner, and it started to drizzle outside. We had a chat while I was lying in my sleeping bag, warm and cozy, and the rain was pitter-pattering on the tent. It was very peaceful and rejuvenating, and I knew I would sleep well that night...