an adventure with the mountains.

feb. 16, 2011

This one might get long winded, but hey, you’re probably looking for a good distraction on the Internet. After all, one can only read so much about Egypt and spend so much time on Facebook before getting bored enough to check in on the “adventures of pedro”…

Some months back, a few of us volunteers began to discuss the possibility of a trek through the mountains in order to visit a large tree forestation center (supposedly the country’s largest), implement a new monitoring system for flora and fauna within the national park, and mainly just to go on what could only be an amazing 5 day trek throughout the Andes Mountains. We began to plan and settle on some dates and other necessary items. The dates we finally selected were February 9-16 – give or take a few extra nights here and there. Sounds great right? Oh, February is during the height of the rainy season in the mountains? Psh, no problem. We’re Peace Corps volunteers…we can do just about anything. A little rain can’t hurt, bring it on nature!

Every thing was ready. Last week we started off with 6 of us volunteers and two members of the national park. Our goal was to implement a new monitoring system for the wild flora and fauna that our friend and fellow volunteer Jess has created while trekking through the park and then visit the forestation center on the other side of the mountains upon reaching the city of Pomabamba. We all met in the city of Caraz where we would hire a car to the trailhead about an hour up into the mountains.
Tents. Check. Rain coats. Check. Stove, fuel and plenty of Ramon, crackers, GORP, and tuna fish….check, check, check. Knives, cameras, socks, monitoring plan, matches, good spirits….check, check, check, check. Oh yeah, we were ready. Nothing could stop us now, and so we began our journey up into the high Andes. Our first day was only accompanied by a few small kinks. A few people had planned on using donkeys to help carry some of the heavier gear throughout the trek. At the trailhead we soon realized that no one was there with their donkeys. Furthermore, no one in the whole village was willing to drop their work in the field and accompany our ragged group to the other side of the mountains with their beasts of burden. Hmm, an oddity. That would have been a weeks worth of work guiding their donkey for an equivalent pay of a small potato harvest (7 months work). Normally a campesino would jump on an opportunity like that. Something that perhaps should have been noted, but ah, hindsight is 20/20 or so I hear.

So we decided as a group to split up. Two of us would wait back in the trailhead village and see if another arriero (donkey driver) would show up in the next few hours. The rest were to head to the first night campsite about a 5 hour hike straight up hill. So our esteemed 3rd year volunteer Rabbit and myself stayed behind to wait on the arriero. We waited for about 1.5 hours and realized that no one was coming and we needed to get moving or nighttime darkness would catch up with us. While waiting for the arriero a thick fog had rolled in and visibility was low to say the least. It looked as though the rains were going to hold off though. We got a bit lost as the darkness of night tumbled together with the existing fog. We ended up taking a “scenic” route through highland tall grasses and mountainsides during the rain and night to reunite with our friends who were already at camp. We were led by their blinking headlamps and random yells for we had “decided” to leave to trail a few hours back, opting for the previously mentioned scenic route. So the first day wasn’t too bad. Just some kinks.

Day two came with a continuation of the heavy fog allowing us to see a generous 20 to 30 feet ahead. The air was dense with precipitation and we began our hike into what seemed like a cloud. We spent a long day hiking that included going up two mountain passes both of which were around 4,800 meters (~15,500 ft). We finally arrived in a small…I mean small…“village” of 5 houses, although we only saw one due to the fog and approaching dusk. We found the owner of the house and he led us to a small field to camp in. Phew, long day but a good day. And most importantly the rain held off, just the cloud like fog that took away most of the breathtaking views of hiking over two mountain passes.

Day three. Things get interesting. We woke up fairly wet due to a moderate rain falling all around us. Good news was that the fog broke. We could see the majority of the lush green valley with the raging river cutting through it, framed by the enormous peaks. Peaks we had passed over and those we still needed to climb. It was quite the site. By now, everything was wet. Our tents, our boots, our clothes, everything. The owner of the house came over to our camp and began to warn us of the day’s hike and current weather conditions. He told us rather bluntly and with the knowledge of a man who has lived amongst these mountain peaks and passes his whole life, that the rain down where we were meant that the day’s pass would be covered with snow. Perhaps lots. Mixed with the snow, ice, and low visibility the already narrow and dangerous mountain pass (4900m) renowned for knocking down donkeys with gusts of wind was going to be something we perhaps were not prepared for. Our mountain friend told us that he wouldn’t go near the pass himself and recommended with did the same. Damn. What now? We had trekked for 2 days into the mountains and needed to go 2 more in order to come out on the other side. We were right in the middle. Ahead of was a seemingly impassable mountain trail covered with snow and ice and behind us the two passes we had already climbed leading down to the small village where we had started. We were in a tough spot. We discussed the options and agreed that attempting to climb the pass after being advised not to by a local was not our best option. Even if we managed to get to the top, it would still be a three-hour hike down in mud and snow to the campsite. Our tents were wet, the temperature was dropping and the sun was nowhere in site. Just more rain and clouds. So, stifling our pride we decided the best option would be to turn back and try to get out the following day. This still didn’t solve the snow, rain, and wetness. The trail we needed to go back on would surely be mud and snow even if it was supposedly an easier climb than the one ahead of us. But climb we did. We climbed right back up the near 16000 ft passes that we trekked over the day before. And snow it did. We were walking through snow and sleet the entire time and trudging through muddy and snow covered trails to get back. Get back to where we started to think? Back to the first night’s campsite? Pop up our wet tents and sleeping bags and climb in? It didn’t sound like a vey inviting option. The wind whistled past us and made every break a frigid and numbing experience. If you stopped for more than a few minutes your hands would start to go numb and the cold, dried sweat and snow would quickly push you to continue moving up and up and up.

We finally found our campsite…at least where we were going to camp. We had passed it the day before but couldn’t really see due to the intense fog. It was a small, stone cabin and guardhouse for Duke Energy. We met the extremely friendly and jolly guard who was monitoring the surrounding glacial lakes’ water levels that fell down to a huge generator in the valley and were turned into hydroelectric power. The place was heaven. The small stone building was like a 5 star hotel for our tired, soaked bodies and crushed spirits after another long, arduous climbing trek. Our savior and new friend, Victor, didn’t think twice about opening up his doors and putting on pot after pot of hot water for tea and coffee. He cleared out his kitchen area and guest room for us to roll out our sleeping bags and hang up sopping wet clothes. It was incredible. We used his stove to prepare our feast of pasta and tuna and invited our jolly friend to dinner. We were able to spend a dry night in his cabin regaining the motivation to keep going the next day, making terms with the “failed” trip, and getting to know another amazingly friendly Peruvian. Without our little hotel suite we would have been forced to sleep in wet tents and bags in the rain and fight off hypothermia and crushed morale. Victor, you are the man.

We awoke the next morning to the first sunshine we had seen since we started out 3 days earlier. We breakfasted and said goodbye and thanks to Victor and started out on the easy downhill hike to our trailhead town. It was a leisurely and pleasant 4-hour descent compared to the arduous climbs and rain of the last few days. We finally arrived at the trailhead in mid day sun and found a car that was willing to fit all 8 of us plus gear in and take us down to the city. We wrapped up the trip with a plate of lunch in the market and relaxed. We had made it. Perhaps not to our destination, but we had made it.

It was a great adventure and we quickly realized that no matter how young, wilderness-ready, and stubborn a group of Peace Corps volunteers could be, Mother Nature can still put us in our place. Trekking in the rainy season is never really encouraged and we found out why. As I sit here, back in site with a cup of coffee and dry clothes, I realize just how nice my room in the campo really is. As much as we liked being wet and close to miserable, we all decided that June - the height of the dry season - would be a much better time to go than at the height of the rainy season. So, we will take a “rain check” (literally) and reschedule our excursion for a dryer few days. But, an adventure nonetheless filled with snow, stories, and the raw power of nature was had by all…that’s what matters.

Well, to those that have made it to the end of my long and slightly disconnected adventure story: thanks for reading! I hope all is well back home and that you are staying dry and enjoying your Ramon noodles in relative comfort. Keep in touch!

Cheers,
Peter