Heading out on the trail tomorrow!

Hi all,

We are heading out on our Inca Trail trek tomorrow at 5:20 AM. There won't be any connectivity out there, but we will be excited to post about the adventure on Sunday. 

A certain someone (Jeff) will also be celebrating his 30th birthday on the 2nd day of the trip. This, coincidentally, is the hardest day.

Here is the brief outline:

Day 1- Picked up at 5:20am and drive two hours to the town that we start the trek from, Ollantaytambo, and go 12k on the first day. 

Day 2- We start hiking at 6am and hike up to about 14,000ft and over the highest mountain. We go 15k that day.

Day 3- This is also 15k over some more mountains. We get pretty close to Macchi Pichu on the third day. That way, we can get in early and see the sunrise!

Day 4- We rise at 3am to eat breakfast and hike the last 3k before sunrise. We then have the morning and midday to explore. In the afternoon, we walk to some thermal hot springs to relax (I'm already looking forward to this). Then we take an hour bus ride to the train. The train ride is about two hours and then a car brings us back to our hostel.We arrive about 11:30pm.

We are really excited and just finalizing our packs now. 

We bought a new little duffle and luggage lock so that we can leave anything that's not critically important behind. Most hostels around here let you store luggage if you are trekking, and ours doesn't charge for it!

Neither of us are bringing our jeans (they are heavy!) and I ditched things like shampoo and perfume. It's going to be a gritty 4 days.

I've been working to get my pack as light as possible, and that's the part I'm most worried about. We went to our briefing at the tour office and I'm the only girl from our group so far that is carrying her own pack. They've hired porters. 

But, Jeff reminded me today that this trek is something like being chased by a bear.  You don't have to be first, you just don't want to be last.

So, the final hours are upon us. 28 miles at extremely high altitude in 4 days. The starting point is about as high as the summit at Northstar in Tahoe.

Wish us luck! Love you all.

We will post again on Sunday.

-K

Choo-choo, all aboard!- Updated 9/30

We read mixed reviews about the ten-hour luxury train ride from Puno to Cusco. 

The Lonely Planet, which is pretty much the go-to reference abroad, indicated that it was a waste of money and you could see just as much and get there faster on a bus.

However, while perusing at Bookshop Santa Cruz back home, we found a train book that rated the ride third best worldwide and a "must".

 

I can now definitely say to Lonely Planet that was horrible advice.

 

View from our seat as we are leaving Puno (does it look a little like the middle of California to anyone else?)

 

As someone who has ridden her fair share of non-luxury trains, both domestically and abroad, I know that I might be slightly biased. I love train rides almost as much as I love open-air bus tours.

This train was something else. While somewhat generically train-like on the outside, the interior is decked out to look vintage. It was incredibly decorated and trimmed with dark wood. We, seemingly, had the best seats in the house. We were in the A car in a 4 seat set -up with just the two of us.

 

We were closest to the door, which strategically led to the bar car, and through the bar car was the panorama car which had full windows and glass ceiling as well as open back with a patio for viewing.

 

From the viewing car, looking back into the bar car

Not to mention, most other passengers were our absolute favorite type of travelers : old, English-speaking white people. They are the best. Unabashedly speaking English, boozing, and talking way too loudly.

 

I was able to get a brilliant latte (ok, I got more than one) and finish the best book Turn Right at Machu Picchu. It’s the tale of a modern day magazine editor following the path of the famous explorer, Hiram Bingham III, through the Sacred Valley and to Machu Picchu. A friend of Jeff’s dad recommended it and Jeff read it first. Jeff is not typically into novels, but flew through this one so we were able to switch books and I got to read it too. If you are ever thinking of making the trek to Machu Picchu, it’s definitely worth a read. It’s both gripping and informative. It’s a novel, technically, but filled with history and first-hand trekking account.

 

Spoiled

All in all, the scenery was killer and we had a wonderful time. This attendant (David) in the bar car is pouring (free) Pisco Sours on a moving train in a tuxedo. This pretty much sums up the type of swanky experience we had.

 

 

It’s certainly worth a ride if you are ever in the area.

 

Ciao!

The S.S Yavari Experience

I should start by saying that we had a wonderful experience on the S.S Yavari. Initially, Jeff was more excited about the opportunity, but in the end, I believe we were about even. To be clear, my enthusiasm mounted, Jeff’s didn’t wane. This post has been written almost entirely for entertainment’s sake, as it was an entertaining evening, to say the least.

We arrived at the hotel at which the steamship is anchored and a porter led us through the hotel to a long and precarious looking wooden dock. I’m talking several planks 18”x6” strung together with rope and additional rope to serve as a handrail. I’m certain had I attempted to actually use the handrail, I may have toppled our walkway entirely. In front of us is the S.S Yavari. It is an English steamship that was brought to Lake Titicaca in the late 1800’s in many pieces from the Pacific Ocean via mule. The passage took 6 years in total. Based on what I had learned so far, I was expecting the Titanic. What was anchored before us seemed alarmingly similar to a tug boat. Alas, we must not judge a book by it’s cover. We arrive at the boat to the greetings of a navally-festooned (navy-inspired)  lady who welcomed us aboard and took my bag from the porter. Jeff had to carry is own. She showed us down a hallway that is no wider than 3 feet to our cabin. The ship is regally adorned. The rustic bunk beds are less than a single bed wide, but dressed with fabulously lush duvet, sheets and extra fleece blanket. There is no room in the cabin for our luggage, but Jeff and I insist on stacking them in the wiggle room at the end of the bed. The luggage closet is a bit far from the room. I immediately call top bunk. It has a window. Quite luckily for us, the corner shelf has a space heater. I’m sure the little room will be just toasty and cozy tonight.

Our berth

No sooner do we thank the lady for showing us the way does she disappear down the walkway and Jeff and I are left alone with only the creaking of a vintage boat hanging in the air. We decide to give ourselves a tour. The common area has a lovely wooden table and the walls are hung with old news clippings and history of the ship. There are maps, an old radio, and several issues of Life magazine from the mid-1900’s. We make our way to the front deck, and are met with a breathtaking view of the lake. We grab two of the embroidered wooden and canvas deck chairs and unfold them on the deck. We had previously determined that we would use this afternoon to relax, lounge, and read. One, because we are far removed from town on this boat, and two because we have been on the go for 13 days straight and need some down time. We both take up reading in the sun.

View of town from the deck

About a hour or so passes before we realize that we still haven’t talked to anyone else on the boat. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. I, of course, fancy us millionaires in the 1920’s with a private boat and staff to tend to it. I romanticize the whole thing quite gloriously in my head before I realize that I would really enjoy a cup of coffee. Jeff and I deliberate about a few things: should we wander back down the dock to the hotel for dinner? I’m not excited by the idea of walking that plank in the dark and most restaurants don’t serve dinner until after 7. It gets dark at 6 in these parts. I buck up though, and offer to bring my headlamp. With a man of Jeff’s appetite, skipping dinner isn’t my first choice. Do they serve us dinner on board? We have no idea. The website implied that we would be whisked away in history with a night-cap in the saloon before retiring to our cabins, but mentioned nothing of dinner. There is a small kitchen within eyesight of the deck and Jeff and I decide to poke around. I think we will get in trouble, but Jeff wonders “from who?” and offers to make me a cup of coffee. The whole afternoon has been altogether a bit eerie, if you ask me. You can vaguely hear a person, just one, working about somewhere in the depths of the ship, and once in a while that someone walks to or fro in front of us, but always quietly. We decide to look around for clues. I love a good game of “Clue”. Mr. Halper, with the coffee pot, in the galley. We walk back into the common area aboard the ship, and I’m literally taken aback by what I see. In the corner, a little table has been set up. On this table there are two empty coffee mugs, instant coffee (that’s all they seem to drink in Peru), tea bags, sugar, and a very tall Thermos. It’s full of steaming hot water. They have materialized out of nowhere. Seemingly, someone from the staff heard me muttering about coffee through the walls and fashioned this little set-up for us. These elves are mysterious, but I like it.

Mystery coffee. Glorious!

I also notice a posted note on the wall that denotes the Menu for Miercoles (Wednesday) complete with dinner for that night, dessert, post-dinner cocktails, and breakfast for the following morning. This clue would indicate that we can expect to be fed dinner on this boat tonight. There is no menu posted for today.  Not long after I sat myself down at the Captain’s table did an elderly man come aboard speaking English. Out of nowhere, a uniformed man appeared and jovially welcomed him in Spanish. This man responded in English that he didn’t speak Spanish, but that did not deter this sailor. The then proceeded with a very energetic tour, in Spanish, beckoning the guest to follow him about the ship. The guest would ask yet another question in English and the tour guide would reply “Si, si” to almost anything that was asked. I was tempted to ask him if I could fire up the engine and take her for a spin to test my theory that “yes” was the answer to all English questions, but I refrained. Guide and guest were out on the front deck when all of sudden an old-timey telephone that I’d taken for an antique begins to ring. It’s that kind of echoed ring reminiscent of old horror films set at the Bates motel. It rings, and rings, and I think of answering it, but just as I’m seriously contemplating (if only to stop the creepy ringing), the enthused sailor tour guide comes sprinting in from the deck. He passes the ringing telephone and races down the hall. I hear him answer another phone and carry on a muffled conversation in quick Spanish. After that, he is nowhere to be found. We are alone again, in our 1920’s novel. That brings us to now, 4:47pm on Thursday 9/19/13. Will we be eating dinner on the boat? Only time will tell. It’s nearing sunset and I hope to get several beautiful pictures from the deck. I’ve just put on my Alpaca hat and gloves. Should be an interesting night. I’ll keep you posted.

A sunset like this really puts things in perspective

Update: Shortly after I wrote the initial post, the enthused tour guide beckoned us for our own tour. I think he just got tired of giving the tour around  us camped in the common room. Though he spoke not a word of English, we grasped nearly all of the message based primarily around his energetic gesticulations.

Gear head in the engine room

Original thingy that pulls the anchor up. It takes about 6 strong men.

“Iceberg, right ahead!” I recognize this from the Titanic. Also a nice peak at my Alpaca hat and gloves

Captain Jeff

After our tour, the host of the B&B finally appeared and we filed our registration paperwork. We asked her if we should go to the hotel for dinner, and she said we could either walk down or she could have it delivered. We opted for walking the plank in the dark, and I’m so glad we did; we got this shot of the boat all lit up!

Post dinner, we returned to the boat. I’m not going to brag, but I pretty much owned the walkway in the dark. My sure footing was fueled almost entirely by a desire to get off the bridge and back on solid ground (or boat deck, as it were).

We spent the rest of a lovely evening having tea and playing Gin Rummy. By the way, thanks Mama and Dad for teaching me Gin at such an early age. It really is a lifelong game, and the only thing besides “Go Fish” I can always remember to play. Jeff too. It was quite fun. In this day an age, with all the technology in our lives, we rarely make time for good old fashion card games. We’ve vowed to start. To those of you reading this with whom we often play board games, we may have to feather in a card game or too from now on. Yes, I will still make fondue. And, there will always be wine. Jeff says “Beer. There will also always be beer.” He’s not wrong.

We retired to our bunks early and were off the next morning on another adventure. Jeff will tell you all about that one.

That’s all, folks.

Xo.

K

Sillustani and Uros, or a Unique Cemetery and Even More Unique Islands

Having arrived in Puno late the night before, and having no plans, we decided to wander into town and see what it’s all about. We were pleasantly surprised to find a pedestrian only road only 2 blocks from our hotel. The pedestrian road was wide and clean, paved with white stone tiles and lined with restaurants, shops, and tour agencies. The road in front of our hotel was partially torn up because they were extending the pedestrian road. After half a dozen blocks, the road opened to the Plaza des Armas, complete with a colonial church. Nearly everywhere we’ve been has had a similar Plaza des Armas, each are unique in their own way.

Puno is the largest city on the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca. There are a number of sights to see around Puno and the lake. It may not seem like it now, but guided tours are not really our thing, we’d normally rather wander about at our own pace (double decker bus tours are an exception). Unfortunately we’ve found that the sights we want to see are fairly spread out, and not convenient to visit outside of a tour. Our lack of a complete command of the Spanish language also makes guided tours more attractive around here. We have discussed on several occasions that we are now confident we want to learn more Spanish. So much of what we have seen would have been independently accessible if we didn’t stare blankly when someone responds to our question in quick Spanish. It’s a different experience than spending a week in a Mexican beach town when you only need to speak Spanish to order a taco. Being in many small towns where people simply don’t speak English has been eye-opening. With that said, we have enjoyed the tours we have been on and are grateful for all that we have seen.

We found the tour company’s office that we were looking for, All Ways Travel, and sat down to discuss some of the things we wanted to see. We booked a tour that afternoon to see Sillustani, a collection of funerary tours about 20 miles north of town. We also booked a half day tour for the next morning to Uros Islands.

As  we’ve mentioned, Peruvians do not appear to put much value in punctuality. The only exception seems to be when they’re picking you up for a tour.

After our minivan had picked the rest of the guests up at their respective hotels, we headed up the hill and away from the city. We stopped to take a few photos. Every time our tour guide offered to take our photograph, he insisted on taking half a dozen. We’re not sure if he is a photo buff of simply firing aimlessly in hopes that one turns out. It was quite entertaining; he would exhaust every feasible angle, scaling rocks, moving other tourists. He really went the distance. And it definitely resulted in more pictures with both of us in them than we’ve previously been able to manage.

Once we arrived at Sillustani, we embarked on a roughly 30 minute walk up the hill to the towers. At one point a young girl walked down the path with a baby alpaca. It’s pretty common that locals bring their absurdly cute livestock out for photo-ops, for tips of course. This time, Kate caved. However, she did mention that barnyard animals “weren’t necessarily her thing” and promptly requested some hand sanitizer from my day pack.

I’m not sure if this woman was trying to herd her alpacas down the hill toward us, or up the hill away from us, but it was quite a sight.

These towers were burial cites created by the Colla people, who were later conquered by the Incas. The funerary towers varied greatly in size and construction. They vary,partially based on when they were made, but largely based on the importance of the person buried in it.

 

At the top of the hill were the most impressive towers, as well as a great view of Lago Umayo.

As we were walking up the hill, I figured that this tower had been damaged by either grave robbers, or an earthquake. It was later explained to us that the majority of the damage is due to lightning striking the towers. A number of lightning rods were pointed out to us.

After we left the funerary towers, we learned that we were stopping at a local family’s home. I am not typically a fan of the cultural dog-and-pony show. It often time seems so rehearsed and awkward. This was a little different. the husband of the house welcomed us in their front yard with half a dozen llamas (or alpacas, I can’t tell the difference). Once in their home, they showed us the some of the food locals typically eat, carrots, potatoes, cheese. The cheese was particularly good. They, of course, had handicrafts for sale, which is normally not particularly interesting. The difference was that this family raised the alpaca, spun the yarn, and weaved the textiles, all at their modest home.

 

The experience visiting this family ended up being really great. It felt truly hospitable and we learned a lot. There are so many types of potatoes in Peru, it would be impossible to know if we’ve tasted the same kind twice. We returned to town, grabbed a quick bite to eat and hit the hay.

The next morning we were picked up, again very punctually, at our hotel and circled the city picking up the rest of the people that would join us on  this tour.

We made our way down to the port and boarded the boat that would take us to Uros Island. The port was a constant log jam and I couldn’t imagine trying to navigate it without a tour guide. There are a few types of boats, but most of them are painfully slow boats. To ensure travel on a “speedboat” you had to be very pointed in the questions you ask. For this reason, it’s easier to work with a tour company. The port offers a daily schedule of departures for various islands around the lake. In our research, we learned that most travelers preferred to hop islands independently, but that it hinged on getting reliable confirmation that you were on a fast boat. Without a strong command of the language, there is no telling. And, even then, your left with half a chance. We’ve learned that, like many tourist cities worldwide, the people selling services will tell you what they think you want to hear. This is especially true in Peru, and widely accepted. If you ask the Captain of this ship “ is this a fast boat?”, he will surely say “yes”. If you ask him how long it will take to get there, he will tell you only a few minutes. This could mean 30 minutes or 3 hours. Be that what it may, once you pay the Captain and board the ship, if it takes 3 hours, there is nothing you can do about it. With all this in mind, we worked with a tour company.

The Uros Islands are a collection of about 50-60 man made islands on Lake Titicaca. The Uros people originally moved from the shores of the lake to reed boats in order to escape the warring Inca peoples. At first, one family lived each boat, after some time, they began to build man-made islands out of reeds. These reed islands are each inhabited by a handful of families.

Once on one of the Islands, our tour guide gave us a presentation about  Lake Titicaca and the Uros people. Our guide was pretty animated, and entertaining.

This presentation included a demonstration of how the islands are made, as well as a model of the island. I found it interesting that the foundation for the floating Island is a 6 foot thick section of reed roots, which only float to the surface of the lake during heavy wet seasons. The islands receive a new layer of reeds on top every week, but still only last about 15 years before they need to be replaced. There are a handful of modern floating buildings, a medical clinic, a primary school, and Seventh Day Adventist Church. The children attend grade school within the community, but travel to Puno to attend high school. Many of the children who attend school on the mainland never return to life on the islands. This may be one of the last generations of Uros people living traditionally on their islands.

The reed boats have become nearly obsolete, replaced with small wooden boats with outboards. Nearly every island has a large, decorated, reed boat catamaran, who’s primary purpose is to take tourists from one island to another. We were offered a ride in said boat and boarded. I felt bad for the women rowing the boat, a very awkward man from New Zealand who didn’t speak a lick of Spanish felt the same way and offered to help with the rowing. They wouldn’t let him. He also couldn’t explain that New Zealand was not Australia and was growing increasingly irritated that the ladies were saying that he was from Australia. Both situations were very comical. and equally uncomfortable. Let’s also call special attention to the fact that during this boat trip, one rower’s cell phone began to ring; she retrieved it from the folds of her traditional skirt and proceeded to have a quick conversation with a friend. The other lady didn’t stop rowing, and we turned in a slow circle for a minute.

The women were rowing up wind and not making any progress, eventually the President from their island pulled up in a powered boat and pushed them the rest of the way to the next island.

The next island resembled a floating airport terminal; restaurants, gift shops, and restrooms seemed to be the only things to see on this island. After a few minutes we boarded our boat and returned to Puno. It was mid day when we returned to Puno, we grabbed our bags and hailed a taxi, off to our next adventure.

 

Special disclaimer: Kate insists you all know that wearing her adventure hat with the string secured beneath her chin is not the preferred way to wear it. However, the afternoon wind often requires this tactic.She knows how silly it looks.

More Grand than the Grand Canyon or That’s a Big Hole in the Ground

Everything we had read said that visiting Arequipa without visiting the Colca Canyon is like visiting San Francisco and not seeing the Golden Gate Bridge. Kate and I wanted to see the Colca Canyon, but weren’t sure how. Everywhere you turned in Arequipa was someone selling tours of the Colca Canyon. I am confident most of them are just reselling other people’s tours. The standard tour is a two day tour which takes you out to Chivay on the first day where you spend the night in a hotel. Chivay is a pretty commercialized town at the entrance to the canyon. On day two you would go into the Colca Canyon, then back to Arequipa. This didn’t sound like our speed.

After hearing one lady’s pitch of her very standard tour, and another 2 day tour that involved waking up at 3am and trekking for 6 hours, we decided to get some lunch and re-evaluate. Over lunch Kate thought to use the iPhone to Google “best Colca Canyon tour”, She eventually found Killawasi Lodge which offered a 3 day tour that started in Arequipa and ended in Puno, which was our next destination anyway. It seemed perfect, only one problem; it was 3pm and we wanted to leave the next day. I practiced what I was going to say in Spanish a couple dozen times, then called the lodge, they didn’t answer. I psyched myself up again and call the manager’s cell phone. Guillermo was very nice and helpful but explained that he was nearly booked an may not be able to accommodate us. He asked us to call back in five minutes. Guillermo had a solution; we would stay in his last remaining room the first night, which happened to be an upgraded room, and we would stay at the neighboring hotel the next night, all for the standard price. We PayPal’d him the deposit while walking across Arequipa. The iPhone has turned out to be one of the most useful things we brought, but that’s a topic for another post.

The next morning a large luxury tour bus picked us up at our hostel. It took an hour or two to pick up the rest of the guests and get out of town. Our tour guide, Cesar, was interesting, to say the least. He was very practiced and at at some times rude, but only about practical things; getting back on the bus in time, drinking enough water, etc. He was also very accommodating and a wealth of knowledge. Once we were out of town, and done being lectured, we stopped to look at some volcanoes.

We are pretty high up in altitude, and climbing. Our American doctors prescribed Diamox to prevent altitude sickness, but we hadn’t started taking it because we only had enough for the Machu Picchu trek. For hundreds of years, the people of the Andes have used the coca leaf to help prevent altitude sickness. In the book I’m reading, Turn Right at Machu Picchu, the author draws an analogy between coca and Sudafed. Coca is to cocaine as Sudafed is to methamphetamine. Our next stop was to use the restroom, and sample some coca tea, if we chose to. Kate and I went for it. It tastes like a combination of mint tea and black tea. I didn’t feel anything, but my altitude sickness never got past a mild headache, so maybe it works.

The next stop was at a natural grassland where local people graze their llama, alpaca, guanaco, and vicuña. These four animals could be described as South American camels, but Cesar insisted on saying "llama, alpaca, guanaco, and vicuña“ every time the topic came up, which was a lot.

The next bus stop was Mirador de los Andes (Lookout of the Andes) also known as Patapampa Pass. The elevation here is 16,109 feet above sea level. For reference, that’s about 1,600 feet above the peak of Mt. Whitney. The air is very thin up here, walking just a 50 feet to the restroom left you short of breath, but the views were amazing. It seemed there was a volcano every direction you looked.

After enjoying the views, we began to descend down toward Chivay and the Colca Canyon. The descent was very welcoming as Kate was beginning to feel a bit woozy from the altitude. The road was a winding mix of old asphalt and graded dirt that meandered past waterfalls, rock slides, grasslands, and awe inspiring views.This was one of the first times in Peru I’ve wished I was on a motorcycle.

We pulled into Chivay and stopped for lunch. The restaurant was down a side road littered with tour busses, served a buffet lunch, and had a traditional band playing. Locals obviously didn’t eat here. Cesar explained that restaurants typically don’t serve lunch around here, and the ones that do are just catering to tourists. My take on it is the people around here are too busy working to go out to lunch. The food was good, but we had no idea what we were eating. My soup kinda tasted like chicken noodle, but contained what I’m assumed are vertebrae of some animal. Maybe it was alpaca, it was delicious. The other two highlights were the deep fried balls of goodness topped with passion fruit sauce on the upper left of my plate and the dark meat ribs of a mistery animal on the lower part of my plate. Perhaps this is alpaca?

    

This was about as much as I wanted to see of Chivay, streets lined with tour busses, buffet meals, bars and discotheques, definitely not our speed. I’m not sure if it was a stroke of luck, or Kate’s amazing planning, (probably mostly the latter) but we were staying in  Yanque, a small village (population 1600-1900 depending who you ask) about 4 miles west of Chivay. We were shown to a small SUV that would take us to our hotel, along with strict instructions to be ready to be picked up between 7 and 7:10 am. We also met Andy and Paula, a very nice couple from London who would be staying at our same hotel. We are told that Yanque doesn’t luck that much different than it did in colonial times, and I believe it. The dirt roads are lined with simple homes and women in bright dresses and blingy hats walk livestock through town. In other places they would be showing their alpacas off to tourists and asking for tips to pose for pictures, here they are moving their livestock to or from it’s pasture.

Our hotel, Killawasi Lodge, is definately the most luxurious place we’ve stayed. Guillermo and Amador greeted us and showed us to our room. Our room has a king bed and sparkling clean bathroom downstairs, and a loft with a sitting area and two double beds.

After setting down our bags and changing, we met Amador, as well as Andy, Paula and 3 Spanish speaking guests for a 3 hour hike around the area. The valley the town is situated in is beautiful from every angle, with a small stream running through it.

Nearly every surface of the valley is terraced agricultural land, and has been since pre-Inca times. Even more impressive is that these plots of land have been handed down from generation to generation. This terraced semi-circular section of the valley is Oqolee’s Amphitheatre. I’m sure it would look even more impressive if it were all green, but it is currently the dry season, so there were just a few sheep and donkeys enjoying the view.

Our next stop was along the steep banks of the valley where Amador explained that the pre-Incan people that settled this area carved holes, colcas, in the cliff face. The cool breeze through the valley act as a refrigeration system for the cocas. These clever refrigerators were used to store and preserve items such as food and bodies of important deceased people, hopefully in different colcas. The bodies of deceased people were preserved for use in religious ceremonies. It was believed that people never died, they just moved on.

We continued around the valley, we walked along the terraces and irrigation canals that are still in use today. At the other end of the valley we climbed up a few levels on steps protruding out of the wall. These steps have been here for over 500 years.

After a fairly strenuous climb, we arrived at the pre-Incan ruins of Uyu Uyu. The building we are standing in front of is a tampa. When the Incan empire conquered a tribe, they were required to build tampas for the Incas. These tampas served as hotels for the Incas traveling through the area. They were also required to keep them stocked with bedding and food. This mandate backfired on the Incas as the Spanish were able to use the tampas as camps as they conquered the Incas.

This village even had running water. This canal brought snow melt from the waterfall above directly through the village. It would still be running today, but the water has been diverted for irrigation.

On the walk down the hill from Uyu Uyu, we passed a terrace with a mamma cow, and her sleeping baby calf. This was about as close as I dared to get.

At the bottom of the hill, we reached some natural hot springs, which sounded amazing after about 4 miles of hiking. In the first picture you can see the water litterally boiling as it comes out of the earth. We’re still very over 11,000ft in elevation, so the boiling water was only around 185 degrees. The boiling water was directed into a series of pools that were built into the hillside. As we changed into our bathing suits, we saw the last tour bus of the day drive off. Did I mention how happy I was that we are staying in Yanque, not Chivay?

After about 20 minutes in the hot springs we got out and changed back into our clothes. The weather around here is very pleasant during the day, quite like Central California. As soon as the sun sets it gets cold, overnight lows in the 40s. The air felt particularly brisk as we climbed out of the hot springs.

It was completely dark by the time everyone had changed, and we still had about a mile to walk, mostly up hill on a graded road. Luckly, Amador had brought flashlights for everyone but himself. The walk back to the lodge began with crossing what is probably the most precarious cable bridge of my life.

Back at the Lodge, Amador took our dinner orders and we went to our room to rinse the mineral water off and change for dinner. I ordered alpaca sautéed vegetables. Now I know what alpaca tastes like, and I’m a fan.

At this point the altitude was getting to Kate and she felt horrible. She left dinner early and went to sleep. As I finished her passion fruit chicken, which was somewhat like Panda Express chicken only better,  I turned to Google to see what we could do about Kate’s altitude sickness. We had already been doing what the Mount Everest Medical Centre recommends, pausing at a lower altitude to acclimate (we spent a couple nights in Arequipa), and drinking plenty of water. While the Centre doesn’t recommend Diamox as a replacement for a slow accent, it does recommend it when a slow accent is not possible or to treat altitude sickness. After dinner Kate took two 125mg Diamox and two ibuprofen (to reduce the swelling that comes with mountain sickness). As I said earlier, we only brought enough for the Machu Picchu trek, but for now she can take mine as I’m acclimating to the altitude faster. We’ll try to get some more when we’re in a real city, and hopefully Kate will acclimate soon.

In the morning Kate felt better but continued to take Diamox. After a breakfast that included all the scrambled eggs I could eat, our tour guide, Cesar, picked us up at 7:11, and joked about only being 1 minute late. While we had come to Yanque in a small SUV, we were picked up in the 40+ foot luxury tour bus. I’m amazed how the driver managed to whip the bus though these narrow colonial streets.

Today we were headed down into the Colca Valley to a point named La Cruz del Condor (Condor Cross). First we stopped in a small village to buy water, use the restroom, and take a photo of this pretty cool church in the shadow of volcanoes.

We stopped to look at more terraced agriculture plots. I’m not sure the photographs really do this justice, and I’m not sure if anyone reading this finds them interesting, but here’s another photo of a different valley.

We arrived at the Condor Cross at about 8:45AM, but only after enduring a seemingly endless lecture from Cesar about the andean condor. Here’s the highlights, they mate for life, they live 75-85 years, wingspan is over 9 feet, and they are carnivores but do not hunt, they eat the carcasses of dead llama, alpaca, guanaco, and vicuña. Unfortunately, Kate and I dropped the ball on charging the camera the night before and it died after about five minutes. Most of the photos of the condors were taken with the iPhone.

After about an hour of condor watching, which is far more impressive than it sounds, we headed back toward Chivay. On the way back Cesar invited us on an optional hike that he described as easy and flat. It wasn’t particularly challenging, but it definitely wasn’t flat. The views were nice though.

We got back to the hotel around noon.If you recall, Guillermo didn’t have room for us at Killawasi the second night, so we were staying at a neighboring bed and breakfast which he described as “more basic”; we didn’t really know what to expect. As we walked next door to the Miskiwasi, Amador explained the situation. Guillermo had built the Miskiwasi Bed and Breakfast a while ago. A few years ago, he built the Killawasi Lodge and sold the half of the Miskiwasi to a business partner  Eventually running both properties was too much, and he sold the rest of the Miskiwasi to his partner. As I said, Killawasi was the nicest place we stayed in Peru, but Miskiwasi was a close second.

There were horseback and mountain bike riding tours we could have partaken in, but we chose to spend the afternoon napping, updating the blog, doing laundry, and generally relaxing. It was really nice after cramming so much adventure into the last 9 days.

Kate still had a little headache, and we only had two ibuprofen left. We asked Amador if there was a pharmacy in town, there wasn’t, but Guillermo was headed to Chivay in an hour and we could go with him. We relaxed and waited for him to come get us. In about an hour Amador knocked on our door (at the hotel next door to the one he works for) with ten 400mg ibuprofens in a blister pack, 5 soles, but they’d just add it to our bill. This is just one example of how truly nice and hospitable Guillermo and Amador were. If you’re ever visiting Colca Canyon, I highly recommend the Killawasi Lodge.

The next day we wouldn’t leave for Puno until 11am, so we had the chance to sleep in, read in the hammocks in the morning sun, and enjoy the last hot shower we might see for who knows how long. At 11 we squared up with Amador and got in a minivan to Chivay.

We dropped off our bags at the bus station and walked about the square looking for lunch. Before we got to the restaurant that Amador suggested we found what claimed to be the worlds highest Irish Pub. We stopped in for lunch, we both had trout and it was delicious. The place looked like our kind of pub and was belting out horrible 80s and 90s music, we heard Spice Girls, the song from Titanic, and Hanson’s MMMbop. It probably would have been a great time last night.

Our bus to Puno was a bigger more luxurious than our bus from the last two days. It was so luxurious, my knees didn’t even hit the seat in front of me. It’s a 6 hour bus ride from Chivay to Puno, and there isn’t a lot to see. I wrote this blog in real time, which means we’re all caught up, and Kate got a little shut eye.

After a couple hours we stopped to use the restroom at a lake that somewhat reminded me of Don Pedro.

A little while later we passed a pond covered in flamingos. The flamingos fly to from Chile to Peru for  the winter. They fly north for the winter, weird.

As we came off the high plains and down into a valley, the road wound along a river, and I again thought this would be a nice time to have a motorcycle.

Pretty soon it got dark and we passed through the city of Juliaca, which seemed a bit seedy and I’m glad our bus just kept driving.

We pulled into Puno and hopped in a cab to our hotel. In the morning we’ll see what this city is all about.