A wet trek through the Andes

11 October 2010

A wet trek through the Andes

The sound of the alarm at 0330 was a harsh welcome to the new day. As a medical resident, I am certainly familiar with early morning wake-ups, but I still cannot remember the last time I got up that early. I took a quick hot shower, knowing that I would not get another one for the next three days and shoved a couple last things into my backpack. Helen and I left our room, carrying down our duffels and backpacks to the front lobby. Everyone in our group looked sleepy eyed and slow moving that morning, all but perhaps Erik and Jaime who always seemed full of energy.

We quietly boarded the bus in the dark and started our drive into the mountains. One of the reasons we had to leave so early is that the road we needed to take to get to our starting point for the hike would be closed after 0600 for construction. If we didn’t make it through in time, we’d be completely out of luck. We all dozed and relaxed as road through the country and mountains. The road was bumpy, graveled, and full of potholes and other obstacles so I found it hard to sleep, and perhaps I was also a little excited about the upcoming day.

As the sun was rising, we made a stop off at a small town for a bathroom break. I was starving at this point, but I figured I would hold out for the breakfast we were promised before starting the trek. It must have been around 0500 at this point, and the little town was already bustling with people walking to work and a small food market was already starting. We passed by a large parking lot where about a hundred men in bright orange suits and construction hats were congregating, ready to start working on the road we had to take.

We drove up and down mountain switchback roads as we drove along. At times we would pass into clouds at the higher elevations and the views of the valley below and the adjacent mountains were totally obliterated. I was impressed with the bus drivers skills as he deftly navigated the tight turns, avoided 10-foot deep holes in the road, and even traversed a small river. On the top of another mountain pass, we made a pit stop for a bathroom break. We all scattered to find our own spot outside. The girls had to go a bit further to get privacy; I am always envious of men when I am camping. It was cold and the wind was strong up this high, especially with a bare ass hanging in the breeze. Seriously, guys have it so easy!

Not wearing a watch, as I decided time was of no consequence this week, I don’t know how much longer it was until we reached a small town called Quisharani. We took all of our belongings with us and left the warmth of the bus behind to hop across a small stream. This town of Quisharani was more a random spattering of a few buildings and houses over the mountain valley we stood in. There were a few community buildings, one of which was obviously a schoolhouse. There were already about three women there, with their children, all dressed in the traditional Andean clothing, and selling their woven goods as well as water and sodas.

The children came up to us, some forward and curious, others more shy. Erik took a can of mixed nuts out of his bag and held the open can out towards the children. They all rushed forward to put there little hands inside. They pulled out handfuls of nuts and quickly brought them back to where their little backpacks were sitting on the ground. There they made little piles of nuts before they went back for more. These nuts were clearly the highlight of their day.

As we stood there in the muddy parking lot of the village, the rain started to pick up. It was finally time for breakfast. The porters for our trek had set up a camping table under the shelter of an overhang. They served us coca tea, bread with jam and butter and some fruit. I tried to eat as much as I could, knowing that I would need the energy for the upcoming hike.

After finishing off every banana and piece of bread, it was finally time to bundle up and start our hike. With the rain still falling, we all pulled our brightly colored plastic ponchos over our heads before we set off. Jaime led the group and kept as all moving at a slow and steady pace. I was happy to have him set the speed for now. We had not bad it very far before the horses came up upon us from behind. They easily passed us even laden down with all of our gear, along with some of the porters who walked swiftly beside them. Next came the llamas; they were not carrying quite as much gear though.

It was difficult to make out too much of the landscape ahead of us as the mountains were shrouded in fog and clouds. We hadn’t gone far before we came up on a small gathering of stone buildings with thatched roofs. This was the home of a family, and the three children were standing outside ready to greet us.

The majority of these mountain children that I saw had dirty skin and ruddy cheeks. The redness of their cheeks was not simply due to the harsh climate, but from vitamin deficiency. These kids likely have a mild form of Pellagra, also known as Vitamin B3 (niacin) deficiency. This is common in a diet comprised mainly of maize. The main signs and symptoms are dermatitis (irritated skin), diarrhea, swelling and hair loss, just to name a few. In its more severe form, this deficiency can lead to heart failure, dementia and death within 4 to 5 years. Now these children surely got some niacin in their diets and thus they presented just with the irritated skin and the swelling. As we stopped to talk to the family of children, Jaime picked up one of the girls hands and showed us how they were a bit swollen. As Jaime astutely pointed out, though, these children may have next to nothing, and live a difficult life, but they were always smiling.

As we continued our hike through the mountains, the small stone homes became more and more scarce. We still crossed paths with the locals though. As we were hiking through a valley, I looked up and saw the bright red colors of the Andean mountain dress; it was a woman probably 1000 feet above use, herding her llama or alpaca. We’d also run into men out herding their sheep or leading a pack of horses and mules carrying supplies. One man ran up to our group when he saw us, leaving his llama further down the mountain. He spoke to Jaime in Quechua, the native language of this region. Jaime shared some food with him and they appeared to have a happy and jovial conversation. The man swiftly returned to his animals and Jaime pointed out that these llama were carrying traditional hand-woven sacs filled with dried dung which would eventually be used for fuel.

As we continued to make our way through the mountains, the weather continuously changing as we walked. There was heavy rain, drizzle, sun and even hail. The clouds were fast moving. The hikers in the group had also spaced out at this point, with the faster hikers in the front, and some of the slower people an hour behind us. One girl was already suffering from some kind of gastrointestinal issues, and so she was going to be carried on a horse.

We would only summit one mountain pass on our first day at an elevation of 4200m (13,700 ft). My lungs were burning and I felt like my heart might leap out of my chest as we assented to that height. I was sweating now, so the hail didn’t even phase me. The higher we got, the more spectacular the views of the valley, mountain and lakes below. It was a relief to reach the top and revel in that accomplishment for a few minutes before pushing on further. Downhill isn’t necessarily any easier sometimes, especially when the ground is muddy and loose from the rain.

For about another two hours, we marched on, periodically stopping along the way to appreciate the gorgeous views, take photographs, or search for a spot to pee. Someone pointed out an animal that looked like a rabbit and Jaime explained that it was a chinchilla. A few minutes later another person stopped and pointed to a black animal moving on the horizon, “Look! It’s a bear! Maybe it’s the spectacled Andean bear.” Our guides were not so convinced, and sure enough, the animal started running and barking-just another pet dog.

It was a beautiful sight to finally behold our bright orange tents from a distance. They were set up in the valley at a town called Cuncani which was nestled at an elevation of 3780m (1240 feet). It was still cold and rainy and those tents looked like home. As we finally descended to our camp site, it was clear that the porters had been there probably a few hours before us. A hike through the mountains was all in a normal day’s work for them. I grabbed my duffel bag and plopped it into the tent I was to share with Helen. It was a bit disappointing to see that the floor of the tent was already soaked from the continuous rain.

Now that I had finally stopped moving, I was pretty cold. Clearly I was not alone in this sentiment, as most of us gravitated to the dining tent where we could all huddle together for warmth. They brought us boiling water and teas and hot chocolate and nothing could have been more satisfying than that. It was already about 4 o’clock by this time, but the cooks served us a late lunch anyway and so we ate river trout with rice and potatoes. It was delicious and not at all the rice and beans I expected to eat while camping.

After our late lunch, we all lingered in the dining tent, talking and getting to know each other better. Helen returned from using the outhouse, and told us that she had peeked into the long building next to it. She said that she saw a bunch of benches inside of it and proclaimed, “Why aren’t we sleeping in there out of the rain?!” Jill and Richard light up with this idea and a discussion ensued. Jill figured that we could all offer to pay $20 each to get inside of this community building and sleep there for the night. Jill, Richard and Helen hypothesized about how they could make this idea a reality. Erik told us that camping outside would make us stronger. I know some people felt differently.

Richard and Helen approached Jaime with their grand idea. Jaime spoke to one of our porters who took for the hills to visit the president of the village to ask his permission. Some time around dinner, the president finally arrived in his colorful poncho and hat. Jaime spoke to him for awhile in Quechua and finally announced that for 5 soles (less than $2) per person, we could sleep inside this building. There was not a seconds hesitation in accepting this deal and Helen fronted the money for the entire group. A big part of me felt like I was missing out on the camping experience I had been looking forward to, but with the rain still steadily falling, it was hard to give up the opportunity to sleep in a warm dry shelter.

There was no electricity inside the building so the porters dragged in a light bulb powered by kerosene. We couldn’t finally see the inside of the building, which was very rustic with a dusty concrete floor, adobe walls, and bamboo rods exposed in some parts of the roof. There were also some signs hung up on the wall covered in children’s handwriting, making it obvious that this structure was used as a schoolhouse at times.

Everyone giddily rushed into the shelter. We wasted no time setting up our sleeping bags, most of which we placed on two benches facing opposite from each other and pushed together. Jaime told us that many of the workers would be quite glad to have the opportunity to sleep in this shelter too, as many times they had to share the kitchen tent for rest. After a long tiring and wet day, it was time to lay down and a wooden bench never looked so good!