We woke at a leisurely 6:30 am to tent service. Marco woke us up and brought hot tea or coffee to our tent door. My altitude sickness was getting better, but I still wasn’t feeling 100%. Day one had proved more difficult than either of us had expected, so we decided hiring a “local” (unofficial) porter for the day would be a good idea. We packed our sleeping bags and everything we thought we could live without for the day into my backpack. The local porter would carry my backpack over the highest pass to the next day’s camp, about 12 km away (7.5 miles) where he would leave it with our group porters. He would then return 12km back to his home. The cost for this service is 120 soles, about $42. Kate’s backpack carried just rain jackets, water, and snacks, we would take turns carrying this backpack, each for half of the day.
After a delicious breakfast, we were introduced to our groups porters and cook. To support the 15 of us hiking and two guides, there were 19 porters, a chef, and a sous chef. We went around the circle introducing ourselves. Each trekker said their name and where they were from, Juan (seemingly) jokingly asked each girl who wasn’t obviously with her significant other if she was single. After he asked this 5 times, it got a little creepy. The porters were largely shy, but told us their names, where they were from, and what they were carrying. It was a bit humbling that one man’s sole job for 4 days is to carry the chairs we sit on at meals. Another porter carried the propane for cooking, another the cook tent, another the vegetables, etc.
Our local porter was still eating breakfast with his family we we departed camp, but Marco stayed behind to make sure our bag started it’s journey to the next camp. The Irish couple, Stephen and Laura, also hired a local porter to carry one of their bags with both of their sleeping bags. We probably weren’t on the trail more than an hour before I saw my backpack pass us. Too heavy for me to carry, the local had managed to strap some extra things to it before shouldering it up and practically running passed us.
Everywhere you looked it was either amazing views of jagged peaks…
… Or stairs.
We were firmly planted at the back of the group for the majority of the trip. Kelsey, the girl from Chicago who’s mom had to turn around on day 1 was right there with us. She had an ankle injury from competitive dancing years ago which decided to flare up at the worst possible time. It was obvious she was in pain, but she pushed through it.
At lunch, Marco and Juan took up a collection for a bottle of rum so that the cook could make us a cocktail later that night. It would be very cold where we were camping, nobody hesitated to pitch 5 soles (~$2) for a liter of rum.
After lunch was the most challenging climb of the trek. Juan strongly suggested we move at our own pace and try to enjoy it. I’m guessing our guides were napping after lunch to avoid rushing us up the pass.
The pass, by the way, is named Dead Woman’s Pass, but not because of any tragic events; there is a rock formation that resembles a dead woman. Here’s a picture of Kate and I at 4215m (13,829ft). For comparison, the summit of Mount Whitney is 4421m (14,505ft) above sea level.
For me, the uphill sections were the challenging parts. I felt as though I could never catch my breath, even after sitting for a few minutes, I was just a few steps from being out of breath again. I don’t know if it was the lack of oxygen at this altitude, or the grade of the trail (probably both); but trekking over this pass was the most physically demanding thing I have ever done.
Many people said the downhill sections were just as difficult. They were a little more taxing on my legs, but I could breathe, and take more than 15 steps without sitting down. Between the Diamox, coca leaves, Ibuprofen, and water, I was actually feeling better. My headache and altitude sickness had gone away. I think the decent down to camp was the best I had felt in weeks.
At the second camp, there were no locals selling beer, but we had each bough a few beers from the last vendor on the trail, before the pass. The fact that we had to carry these beers over nearly 14,000 feet made them taste particularly great.
It was starting to get dark, and we hadn’t seen Juan and Marco all afternoon. One of the porters came to where we were reflecting on the day and told us it was time for tea. We gathered in the dining tent for tea and then were surprised by a real treat. Benny, the chef, had made me a birthday cake. Kate didn’t tell Juan that it was my birthday until we had already started the trek, so Benny must have improvised with what they had already packed in order to prepare this amazing cake. It was still warm and spongy as I sliced into it, and it tasted delicious.
It was about this time that Juan and Marco appeared. After we left lunch they tried to buy a bottle of rum, but the ladies selling water and soda on the side of the the trail were all out. Our guides had traveled all the way back to the start of the trail to buy a bottle of rum for my birthday. They also brought some wine for us.
The rum was in a squirt top water bottle, when we asked Marco why, he reminded us that glass bottles were heavy, so he had transferred it into a plastic bottle for the journey. When Juan and Marco left the tent to get ready for dinner, we started passing the bottle around the table. I don’t think that was Juan’s intention, he was surprised when he returned to a half full bottle, and promptly took it away from us.
After dinner Juan produced a pitcher of what he referred to as Macho Tea, and proceeded to dump the remaining 1/2 liter of rum into it. It was warm and pretty tasty, a few of us remained at the table until it was gone.
As I type this, I still can’t believe how much effort people I barely knew put into making my birthday great.
That is too cute - I especially love that they made you a cake!
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