And on the third day...

After a grueling Day 2, we were all ready for the easy part. Just kidding. What easy part? Unbeknownst to the whole group, the third day possessed an Incan staircase known fondly amongst the locals as "the Gringo Killer". We had 1000M (about 3000 ft in altitude) of steep, straight decent. My basketball-beaten ankles and knees were in for a real treat. 

 

However, that gem of an experience would have to wait until after lunch. The total hike today was the longest leg of the trip, 15K (or about 10 miles).

The morning started with a straight incline. Unlike the previous day, today would be filled with "Inka flat" trail, which mostly means up and then down and then up and then down. We've come to know that there is no such this as "flat" when a Peruvian person describes a trail and the best you can hope for with "flat" is limited stairs.

We would climb to summits two and three today, but thanks to the aforementioned Gringo killer, we had a net downhill for the day.

The previous night and this morning may honestly be the coldest I've ever spent outdoors. We were warned to wear two pairs of socks, even inside our zero degree bags, and suit up in our warmest hats and gloves. This was not overkill. When Marco, our assistant guide, arrived at 5:30am with steaming hot coffee at our tent, it was almost too much to reach my hands out and mutter a "Gracias". Bless Marco and that wake up tent service. If only I could be stirred each morning with a hot cup of joe in real life....

Anyhow, once we'd eaten breakfast, we were off. The first hill wasn't as daunting as it had looked. When my toes reached the first step into the sunlight, I could almost feel them again. We wound our way up yet another set of granite stairs and into a set of ruins that served as a break during our climb.

 

Juan explained that all around us, there were Incan trails that we could not see. The last Inka (Manco) fled from the Spaniards into the mountains in this area and both created many decoy trails and also destroyed almost all paths that could lead the invaders to his people. The real paths were yet to be fully discovered. Many paths led to nowhere and had this been overgrown again. Therefore, we couldn't see these trail, but trusted our guide that they were there.

After this break, we resumed our climb to the second summit. While seemingly brutal, it was nothing compared to the day before, and we'd been informed that this was the last great climb of our journey. That made it all theory bearable. Reaching the top of summit two was incredible. One way, we could peer across at the 14,000 monster we'd scaled yesterday, and the other way was sweeping jungle valley. It was breath taking.

 

We began our descent into the "cloud forest" or high jungle of Peru. It was beautiful and very different than the Amazon basin we visited earlier in our travels. The air was still crisp and fresh, not humid and heavy. We wandered downward in search of our lunch camp, stopping at another beautiful set of ruins along the way.

 

Lunch was, you guessed it, filling and fabulous. After lunch, we would wind out way through a path of slight inclines and declines to reach the third summit of the trip. I think this was everyone's favorite part of the trek . We were hiking on some mostly flat trail high in the Andean peaks. The views were humbling, awe-inspiring, and sometimes downright terrifying along the way. The path could be narrow at times, slick from the most, and passed through more than one tunnel/cave rock formation that was pitch dark to walk through. It was rad.

 

When we reached a spot just before the last little climb to the third summit, we paused to really admire the view. We could see in the distance, Aguas Calientes, the town at Machu Picchu. It was a point that we could grasp in time and place. We were making so much progress.

 

We reached summit three and paused for a bit because we all knew what lie ahead- the Gringo killer. It would take two hours to get down from there to a fork in the road. If we reached this fork before 5pm, we were instructed to go left. If we were slow, we were supposed to go right and head straight to camp. The path left led to another set of ruins. Allegedly, this was our guides favorite thing to see along the trail and encouraged us to giddy-up. It was 3:10. Off we went.

 

I cannot begin to recreate the strong string of colorful expletives I developed for the Incan people this afternoon. The most family-friendly started with "those Incan assholes...". The spiral downward was the most brutal for me. Jeff didn't seem to have too much trouble, but after a while, every step was painful. My feet and calves were attempting to make up for my tired ankles and knees, which resulted in a hot, hard-headed mess. I, of course, both refused to slow down or to take breaks. You see, while I was cursing the entire culture, I knew Jeff would like to see the other recommended ruins. I was confident in that moment that I never wanted to see another Inka creation ever again, but I sure as shit didn't want to be the reason that Jeff didn't see it.

 

It was quite interesting to learn on this journey that while Jeff excels at the downhill, I do not. While most would agree that down is far better than climbing up, going up is way more my thing. We were opposites, go figure! However, the views were breath-taking and I was determined.

Once we reached the bottom of the spiral staircase the Incan people so considerately dropped in the MIDDLE OF THE JUNGLE, we reached flatter ground and finally reached the fork in the road. It was only 4:48.

 

 

We opted for the route left. Here, I really picked up speed. After a few minutes, I realized Jeff wasn't even in sight behind me. I was glowingly increasingly uncomfortable with the level of darkness that was falling. Jeff and I fell back into our rhythm and made it to the ruins in 15 minutes. I have never been more mistaken about the need to visit this detour from the trail. This was the most humungous set of heaping terraces there ever was. It was incredible to see.

 

 

Far below we could make out the camps and even farther in the distance, the river that winds to Machu Picchu. We stopped for a few minutes to take it all in, but not for too long. We had to make it to camp before dark, and dusk falls early in these parts.

As we started to curl down the path to the bottom of these terraces, I emerged from a wooded area slightly ahead of Jeff. I was greeted by a black Alpaca, grazing away about 20 feet ahead. He looked up as I barreled out of the trees. He was looking right at me! I turned back the single track trail to whisper at Jeff for the camera. I stopped. Jeff reached me and also saw the alpaca, who had taken a few steps our way, still staring right at us. He continued towards us. All at once, I start to envision us being attacked by a wild alpaca. Do they even have real teeth? They eat plants! He kept coming, and we managed to snap this photo:

 

He shimmied right passed us, as we both pressed ourselves to the mountainside of the narrow trail, and kept on lumbering up the trail. Good luck to the next hikers he meets.

 

We continued downward and about 30 minutes later, we reached our final campsite. Taking off my boots had never felt so good.

On a side note, I love my Merrell hiking boots. The trip to Peru was their maiden voyage, and I suffered not a single blister or irritation. #winning.

We ate an early dinner and crawled into our tents as quickly as possible. The wake up call for Saturday was 3:30am. We needed to hike the last 5k (3 miles) to Machu Picchu before sunrise.

Someone saw a snake in camp, and that was enough for me to ask Jeff to check our tent three more times before I locked myself inside until morning. It was a blissful slumber, for the next 6.5 hours.

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!

Wierdest Bus Tour Ever.

We woke on Saturday morning to this view from our balcony. It doesn’t look like much here, but it was cool and crisp and beautiful. That is the town of Arequipa.
 
At this point in the show, everyone knows how I feel about bus tours. Unabashed love describes it best. Well, the bus tour of Arequipa takes the cake for weirdest tour ever.
It started off dandy. We toured about town, but most of what there is to see in Arequipa proper is really old churches and monasteries. That took all of 15 min. But, I did acquire this indisputably amazing Adventure Hat that I intend on wearing on every appropriate (and some inappropriate) occasion.

Then, we headed out of town. Our first stop was a viewpoint of the valley that sits between the two volcanoes closest to Arequipa. The multicolor crops are representative of a pre-Incan farming tactic that created more viable land. They separated tiers of hillside into “terraces” so they could plant the right crops at the altitude at which it would best grow. This practice is maintained today.

Our next stop was an Alpaca farm, where they raise these animals to sheer them and make clothing, blankets, etc. This is a major export for Arequipa and you can tell by all of the shops dedicated to alpaca wears. This leads to another hat I now take pride in owning. This has comes with matching gloves. That’s right, I said it, matching gloves. They are incredibly warm and I’m getting great use out of them each morning and night. The days in this region are a pleasant 70-80 degrees, but the mornings and evenings are bitterly cold and windy. I’m sure we will have a photo of that hat set soon. I know you were wondering, I can sense these things.

This guy was our favorite.
After visiting the alpacas, we ventured out to the mansion of the founder of Arequipa. It was a lovely mission style establishment with a nice chapel, rustic kitchen and beautiful gardens. You either had the option of waiting on the bus, or paying the fee to enter. We paid the 10 soles each and got a quick  tour. Because some people didn’t partake in the tour, we only had 20 minutes to do the whole circuit. That was a bit odd, because I know Jeff and I could have toured the grounds for an hour or more. There was a lot to see!

The stop after this was a place in which you had two activity options- you could see the town’s old  mill or take a horseback ride. This stop was also 20 minutes, so Jeff and I opted for the mill tour. We saw how the people in town used to bring any grain or corn to the mill, which was powered by water, and have it made into flour in a matter of minutes. Not having to execute this process manually saved the people a lot of time and labor.

On site, there was also a 4 year old Bull, the “Exterminador Jr.”. In this small outlying town, a bull fight is the place to be every Sunday. Unlike some other places though, the bulls do not fight to death and no bulls die as a part of this sporting event. The bulls fight each other and not humans.  I thought that was really nice.

The last stop on the tour was a recently inducted UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is one of the first Terraces (for farming as described above) and was critical to growing food for the entire town. Quite spectacular. We didn’t get to stop here, but snapped this photo from the bus. There wasn’t enough time. This qualifies for the weirdest bus tour every because everything was really rushed. The whole tour was put on fast forward. It was still a great time for us! We saw a ton in that 4 hours.

In the background is El Misti, the biggest volcano in the Arequipa area. He is also featured on my cool new hat.
Once we were back in town, we went for lunch. We chose a “top choice” from the guide book and were not disappointed. We got ham and cheese tequenos (which are taquitos served with guacamole), ceviche (of course), calamari, and shrimp chowder, which is a local favorite in the Arequipa region. If you are ever in Arequipa, we definitely recommend Zingaroo.

After lunch, we headed to another establishment recommended by the guide book. This is a museum dedicated to the mummy of an Incan girl who was sacrificed to the Gods long ago.In 1995, when some climbers were scaling the highest peak around here, Nevado Ampato, they came across a burial site at the summit. There they found a miraculously preserved body. After excavating, they discovered that this 14 year old girl was from a socially elite Incan family and was sacrificed for the good of  her people. The Incans believed that the Mountains were Gods, and so when these volcanoes spewed magma and ash, it was believed that they were angry. The Incan people would then sacrifice someone, a special child, to pay homage and make the Gods happy. It was a great honor in their day. The walk from Cusco to this mountaintop took about 6 months. It was an incredibly powerful archaeological find that prompted the discovery of many other gravesites on that frozen mountain. The preservation of these bodies was made possible by the snow. It was something to see. All the blankets and artifacts placed in the graves were also perfectively preserved.They only keep Juanita onsite part of the year though because she needs to be kept very frozen, and many universities are still running studies on her to learn more. Lucky for us though, Juanita was in town and we got to see her. The crazy part was that she was encased behind 3 panes of glass, the last one being bulletproof. Apparently there have been several attempts to steal her over the years, and in Peru, she is a National Treasure. We were not allowed to bring any cameras or cell phones into the facility though, so we don’t have any pictures to share. The museum and tour were both well-planned out and emphasized the importance of this discovery.
On the way back to our hostel,  we stopped by the main square to see the big Cathedral. It takes up a whole city block and is beautiful at sunset.
 
Back at the ranch, we made dinner for ourselves- chicken and broccoli. It was nice to get a healthy serving of vegetables, as that’s  not common here. They eat lots and lots of potatoes. It was a very full day, but a lot of fun.

Friday the 13th

Friday was a very interesting travel day. The airline, Peruvian, doesn't schedule layovers. If you want to make a connection, you schedule them separately, so we did.

Our flight was scheduled to leave Iquitos at 8:30am, which would put us in Lima at 10:10. Then we needed to exit and go back to check-in for our next flight- leaving for Arequipa at 12:00.

Well, to start the day off right, we must get a mototaxi to the airport at 6:00, which goes swimmingly. 

We check-in for our flight right at 6:30, as planned. Flight delayed by 20 minutes. Crap. 

I decide right then and there that we may miss our connection and that the Type A personality in me will just have to be ok with that.
 

Luckily, the delay lessens and we only take off 15 minutes late. We arrive in Lima at about 10:20 and race back to check-in. We weren't too worried because the first time we flew Peruvian, it was a breeze. They didn't glance at our slightly large carryons and we were the first people in line. Not this time. Not on Friday the 13th. Around the corner we come... and run smack dab into a line that extends passed the Disneyland-esque line dividers. Crap again. We are waiting in line and I'm compulsively counting the seconds on my "outdoor watch" (the less than ladylike timepiece I sport for hiking, etc). We have to get through security and to our gate to board at 11:15. It's 10:43 and we are the last people in line.
 

Thankfully, at about 10:48, one of the attendants begins to query the patrons in line about their destinations and herds all those heading to Arequipa into a special line. Lucky for us, the country runs on "Peruvian time" and folks just assume you'll be late. The airline was ready for this, and we breezed on through to the front of the line. It's 10:52 and we are next up. Phew.
 

We hear "adelante" (come forward) our way and approach the booth. This lady is less than stoked to see us. She immediately makes us weigh our bags, which of course, are outside the carryon limit by about 3 lbs each. We say that we will throw a few items in our other bags (my purse, Jeff's daypack) and get the bags under weight. She then informs us that because our flight is full, we each only get one bag on the plane and must check both our backpacks. 10:58. It occurs to me in that moment that neither of our bags have tags on them. We have been carrying them on and planned on getting proper tags in Lima on the stopover. 11:02. Both Jeff and I are flustered, and the attendant chooses then to speak only in quick Spanish, tags our bags, and away they are whisked on the conveyor belt. 

She hands over our boarding passes and I begin to freak out a bit. We are walking towards security and I realize, my credit card and American cash are in my (now checked) backpack. Greattttt. Just what I need, to have to cancel my stolen credit card today. Jeff also had one of his cards in his backpack. We had, at the time cleverly, separated all our important documents so that if my purse was stolen, we wouldn't be "up a certain creek".
 

I'm now panicked, irritated, and rushed. 11:08. We get through security and to our gate in time, but can't think of anything but how stupid we both feel.
 

We had intended to sleep and read on the next 1:30 flight, but that wasn't possible now. Those of you who know me well know that I suffer somewhat of a paranoia. The whole flight I am devising the plan for how to handle the loss of all the things I'm confident will be stolen. While this might make some people more irritated, it actually helped a great deal. I realized, in the end, that there was nothing I couldn't live without in that bag and that it wouldn't ruin the trip. On the other hand, I informed Jeff that if my bag didn't show up at all, I would be turning right around and flying back to America.
 

You see, for better or for worse, I'm reading a great novel about a doctor traveling to the Amazon. While it hasn't helped any of my nerves, it's a phenomenal read. In the book, the protagonist's luggage was lost it was sent to Spain and then never recovered. I would not be waiting around for that!

We arrived in Arequipa to the International airport that consists of one room and a partially paved runway. They do send flights to Bolivia, so International it is.
 

We arrive at baggage claim, which is a roped off section of the room where they are unloading luggage and a man in a nifty hat holds up each piece until it's claimed by the patron with the correct corresponding baggage tag. While seemingly inefficient, it worked quite well. This ensures no stolen luggage! Jeff's bag was on the first shipment- go figure. The man who worries about virtually nothing gets his bag first. I'm sure there is some cosmic reason for this. Another shipment arrives, no Kate bag. I'm working really hard to keep my cool and finally, on shipment three, my red backpack appears! I almost knock the man in front of me over when I raise my hand to eagerly claim my bag. I get it, move off to a corner and commence to unpack right then and there to make sure my things were well. Not a single article out of place. I couldn't have been more relieved.
 

Now, we needed to figure out how to get to our hostel. I'd emailed the owner to ask what the best way is, bus or taxi, but didn't hear back by the time we left Iquitos in the wee hours of the morn. It took a few minutes, but we finally decided upon a taxi and wrote out the exact address on a slip of paper for the driver. We also went so far as to circle it on our map, just in case. We head out the double doors and come face to face with an old Peruvian woman with a piece of notebook paper that says "Katheryn Lents" on it. What a stroke of luck! I'd emailed to hostel and didn't yet get there reply. But when I finally got to my email, there was a note that simply said "I go for you at airport. -Maria". Here was Maria. The day was shaping up quite nicely.
 

We arrive at the hostel and settle in. We learned that there was a, wait for it, double decker bus tour we could take of Arequipa. We headed to check out the main town square and get tickets. We got dinner and wound down a nice little evening after a very long day.

I was hesitant the jinx it, but Friday the 13th usual turns out to be quite a lucky day in my family. This time, thankfully, was no different.