I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Huaraz, Peru right now, after having finished the second, and final, outing of my time in the Cordillera Blanca. The keyboard here is, in a way, representative of Huaraz. That is to say, it-s an American keyboard, and not a Latin one.
Huaraz itself is a strange mix of heavily touristed city and Peruvian mountain town. Our second day here, we went into a place called the California Cafe -- it was straight out of Boulder, with a dead concert playing softly in the background; a menu of breakfasts, cafe foods, coffee, and chai; a nice library; and "Boulder people", discussing climbing and hiking with the same tone that you find in Boulder. It was really strange, and made it very easy to forget that I was in Peru. However, in the same street you can find children selling toasted peanuts or offering to shine your shoes. Walking a little way out of town, you find adobe houses, dirt roads, and the usual collection of dogs, chickens, pigs, etc.. Downtown, the streets are lined with stores selling and renting mountaineering equipment, and agencies to take you into the mountains, but nestled amongst them are the usual collection of restaurant selling 1/4 chicken for $1.50, and so on. It-sa weird mixture.
The highlight t of the time here has been the time spent outside of the city, however. McKenzie and I did two different trips, both about a week long, in the Cordillera Blanca. It-s an amazing range of mountains -- very different from anything I-ve ever seen anywhere else. The mountains are, in a word, big. Tall, steep, snow-covered peaks dominate the view from deep, narrow valleys (or quebradas) full of grazing cattle, horses, and donkeys. In the more popular locations, trains of burros loaded with gear and fields dotted with tents are common sights.
Our first hike took us up Quebrada Quillcayhuanca, over a pass, and back out Quebrada Cojup (quechua names). In Huaraz, we caught a cab to a nearby town ("How much to LLupa?" "S./50" "That's expensive -- we were told it should be 12" "Oh. Okay, 15?") and began the hike. Walking through populated areas, there was no shortage of people willing to offer directions or advice, many demanding a piece of candy in exchange.
The first goal was a trip up to Laguna Churup -- one of many turquoise alpine lakes. The trail up was steep and tiring, as we got used to the altitude and walking with packs on our backs, and we stopped just short of the lake to camp the first night. The next morning a steep scramble over rock brought us to the lake, where we were lucky enough to see the sun peek through the clouds for a few minutes. The lake was beautiful, at the foot of Nev. Churup, an imposing, glacier-covered mass, but a cold wind encouraged us to descend and put our packs back on.
We hiked down from the lake, and made our way into our first quebrada. Like one of the boys had warned us, there were "lots of burros, horses, and cows" in the valley. The bottom was flat, green, and a few hundred meters wide. The walls on the side were steep rock, ascending to the base of mountains that remained out of sight. At the end of the valley, mountains once again filled the view.
After a day and a half of hiking up the valley, we started to ascend the side of the valley, to a pass below one of the smaller mountains of the Cordillera, Huapi. Getting to the base of Huapi, which we were considering climbing, was a humbling experience. Although one of the smaller and easier mountains in the Cordillera, it was still BIG. Climbing up to the ridge near the mountain to get a look at it was difficult work for our unacclimatized bodies, and ended with a 20m scramble up rock to a narrow, sandy ledge that left both of us shaken and nervous. "I don't want to climb that mountain." "Okay." There was no further discussion. The next day we had a lazy morning in camp, then hiked over the pass (16,500') and down into the next valley, and out the next day.
Back in Huaraz we went out for dinner, drinks, and dancing with a couple people -- a woman and her guide -- that we met on the trail the last day. It was a good time, but in the end it cost us an extra day of recovery in Huaraz. The next day was spent sleeping off hangovers, and then going to see "Monsoon Wedding" at a small cafe that also shows movies. Comfortable cafe, good hot chocolate, good movie.
The next day we developed our plan for the next outing. We decided that if we wanted to climb anything, we should bite the bullet and hire a guide. We decided that Pisco would be a good goal -- a good next step for both of us. It also linked together nicely with a hike up quebrada santa cruz, which would allow us to see another part of the cordillera and allow us to stop at the alpamayo base camp to see the "most beautiful mountain in the world" (exactly who it is that gets to make these absolute judgments of aesthetics I don't know).
The weather on this hike was not as nice -- lots of clouds, and a bit of snow and rain here and there. Luckily, we were able to see most of the mountains through a few cloudless hours each day. The hike itself was generally easy and relaxing, after having put in the acclimatization work on the first hike. The mountains were, again, incredible, but this is a story best told by pictures. The valley was much more crowded, and were were frequently being passed by trains of burros carrying climbing gear, or supplies for other trekkers, along with groups of other hikers and once (memorably) a large group of Japanese tourists on an organized tour.
We finished our trek, and after a harrowing bus ride down a long set of narrow switchbacks characterized by the smell of burning} clutch as the driver repeatedly backed up to get around the turns, met our guide at the starting point for the Pisco climb. An easy day's hike took us to the base camp, where we should have had a nice view of Pisco. However, the weather was such that part way up to the camp, McKenzie asked our guide, "And, where's Pisco?" The skyline was pure white, with thick clouds rather than mountains being the defining feature. As we made our way up to camp the intermittent rain turned to hail and then to snow flurries. Ideal climbing weather, we joked. I hoped it would get better, and I tried to keep my suspicions that it wouldn't to myself.
We went to bed that night with the clouds still thick overhead, calculating how to make three days worth of food last four four. When we awoke at 10 minutes to one, however, the sky was clear and the moon was shining bright above us. The excitement of leaving for a climb made it easy to crawl out of a warm sleeping bag and prepare a quick, but hot, breakfast of potatoes and coffee. As we walked toward the mountain, crossing a large moraine by light of head lamps, the moon set, leaving us with a crisp sky full of the now-familiar stars of the southern hemisphere. The frost on the rocks glittered in the light of the head lamps. After several hours of walking, we arrived at the foot of the glacier. I was glad for the rest as we stopped to take out the rope and put on our gloves, harnesses, and crampons before getting onto the ice.
We started walking up the mountain, over a well defined trail that had been trodden by others before us this morning. At the base of the mountain there was several inches of unconsolidated snow, on top of a layer of much harder snow. I was grateful for the trail, especially moving in the dark. After an hour of walking, the sun began to rise, offering us an amazing view of a large portion of the cordillera in the first reddish rays of daylight. As we climbed, the sky behind the mountains turned from the first grays of dawn to brilliant reds and pinks and then to a deep, clear blue. If much of mountaineering is slogging and hard work, it is these moments that make it all worth it.
We soon caught up with the group that had been breaking trail for us -- a group of four Catalonians and their guide -- when we arrived at the base of a 160' wall of ice. The original route up the mountain had gone around the wall, and up a gentler section, but crossed a snow bridge that had collapsed some weeks ago. The collapse made the climb more technical than we had initially planned, but it provided a good challenge and made the climb much more interesting. While we were working on getting up the wall, a third group of people -- three climbers from the basque country -- passed us effortlessly.
As we continued up, having spent much more time on the steep section than we had planned, the snow deepened and the clouds closed in. The last hour of the climb was a long, hard push through a foot of unconsolidated snow. Visibility continued to drop as we climbed, and when we finally arrived at the summit, there was nothing to see but an expanse of white. However, the view of the sunrise from the ridge was more than enough to leave us satisfied. We found the other two groups at the summit, everyone tired but happy and sharing congratulations. The other groups each took out flags and took pictures with them, which made me feel like we were at a real summit. After a brief rest, some hot tea from the thermos, and a snack of chocolate and cookies we began our descent.
Three hours hiking saw us to the bottom of the ice, and another three hours to our base camp. Exhausted but content, we shared a thermos full of hot chocolate and made pizza after pizza before heading off to a much-needed night of sleep.
Back in Huaraz now, the climb is quickly turning into nothing more than a pleasant memory. A slight soreness in my legs and forearms is the only reminder of all the work that went into the climb. Looking out at the mountains, under the clear blue sky, I feel rejuvinated and ready to go out again. However, this is not to be -- different adventures wait.
In a few days, we will head back to Lima. McKenzie will go home, and I'll fly or take a boat to Iquitos, in the jungle. There, I'll meet up with my mother to share a jungle adventure, going down the Amazon river to Manus, in Brazil. It will be hard to leave the Cordillera Blanca behind -- there are still too many things I want to do here. This is a place to return to, on a different trip, to spend a season hiking and climbing.
Posted by vanwie at July 1, 2004 08:36 AM