Three days in the valley
Trip Start
Oct 20, 2008
1
14
20
Trip End
Dec 06, 2008
Chachapoyas,
Peru
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Ok, so I missed a day but all that happened was we kicked around Chachapoyas, went to the market, ate strange exotic fruits and booked a trek into the jungle.
One of us almost bought a machete, no prizes for guessing who. Fortunately it was 26 sol and not the six sol it appeared the man was offering, and with the odd arguement that has popped up from time to time, I was pretty glad that twelve inch blades aren´t as cheep as chips (or 4 plates of chips) in Peru.
6sol is about ₤1.40.
Anyway, Monday we bummed about, played some cards and genuinely took it easy after the road of doom.
Tuesday... Tuesday was a different store all togather, and the start of the holiday phisicalle as they say in giberish.
We got up at 5. Packed our stuff and made our way down to the tour agency, who took our big bags and, as recommended for this three day experience, we took a small day bag with a change of clothes.
Ywo changes of clothes World have been a more accurate estimate of what we needed as I was to find out. But hind sight is a glorious dry clothed devil not shivering for warmth in the night, nor wearing a t-shirt like a nappy to the dinner table because his trousers are drying in the moist jungle air.
But I´m getting ahead of myself here.
The first thing I should tell you is that they provided us with a pair of, one size to big wellingtons (one size to small for Wojtek), making our expensive hiking shoes redundant, and a huge (gringo no get lost) yellow proncho, that I trod on from time to time almost pulling my head off my shoulders.
Not willing to relinquish our boots, we decided to carry them in a seperate bag. On the first day this was a hinderence, but slipping my blistered feet into the tight fitting leather on day two was like slipping your hand into a cheese grater. But still nicer than those cretinous rubber wellys.
Am I telling this story backwards or what.
Ok, day one. We went to see these amazing sacophagus´ at Karajia, buried in an inaccesible cliff face. Difficult to describe in words so I´ll post a pic later. They sacophogi themselses were shaped like the Easter Island heads, in a way, and this was a rare form of burial in the Chachapoyas area.
The way down was extremely muddy and the wellys were now looking like not a bad idea at all. It´s about an hours walk from the road where the taxi dropped us, down into a secluded ravine, were a path follows under the statues passed some discarded bones that witches sometimes use in there black magic to a small ledge on the otherside where you can get an opposite view of the site and, apparently the site of another lone sarcophagous that our guide Elnando says was there, but none of our untrained western eyes could see.
Elnando. Never have I met such a gentle man in all my years, (except all of my male friends reading this of course). No really, Elnando our guide was geniunely a pleasant company throughout the trip, and I world recommend anyone comino to the area to seek this fellow out. He speaks good english and is a very thoughtful guy.
Bloody quick on his feet though, but don´t worry, he´ll wait for you city slickers to catch up.
Anyway, after the statues on the cliff we had breaky at a little house in the area. Jam and bread for me, then our taxi driver torced his 4x4 Toyota Corolla (a implacable beast of a machine), along a water logged, pot holed be-atch of a road into the mountains. Where he dropped us off at a point at which was almost the point of no return for him.
We manager to push his car up one muddy hill, but as far as I known he´s still on his way back now, 5 days after.
Us, we had our trusty wellys, to push us through the mud. It was raining and the road was slippy.
We walked for half an hour along the road we were left on and after a sharp bend we saw the ... valley Huaylla Belen. A beautiful serene place with a winding river cutting through a grassy plain of grazing cattle and horses.
Your eyes just drink in the green lush dell and your feet are romanced by the nice flat pastures.
Elnando told us a few stories about some english girls getting caught in the rain and breaking down a church door for shelter, and then came the trek real.
After crossing the valley we left the road and ascend into the musty cloud jungle. 7 hours of rocky, slippery, sole punishing treking up, and down a chaotic path.
The scenery was spectacular. Dense trees, cloudy valleys, walls of leaves. But the path littered with loose sharp rocks, bruised your feet with every step. I constantly fell behind the others, but I was happy with not twisting my ankle in the middle of no where, with no mobile phine coverage for 10 miles in any direction.
My phone wasn´t to taste reception of any kind for three days until we got back within a stones lob of Chacha.
So we plodded on, climbing to about 3000 meters above, sweating rivers, and then decending slippery trails. We had lunch on a rock overlooking a silent lush jungle ravine, and continued our descent to somewhere we didn´t know how far and departed the path a few times to inspect some ruins of the pre incan chachapoyan culture.
Actually all that was left were a few bits of wall that were the supporting the flat areas that they built there houses on, and for 6 hours trek, weren´t that impressive.
Except the last one that was pretty huge. The remain of a big city called the lost Paradise.
We dragged ourselves back up to the road, slithering through the mud and leaves and with bruised and blistered feet, we walked another two hours to a small village, unaccessible except by mule or foot, deep inside the jungle, that was to be our home for the night.
Our ´hotel´ as Carlos the silver tongued tour operator put it was a médiumly sized house with a terrace opening on to the valley, a shower that consisted of an unlit blue plastic lined area with a dangling hose that ran cold wáter (just what you need when you are already cold tired and dirty), and the hugest jungle bugs you can imagine, kamikaze diving us as we ate, our spagetti bolognese, just as mama made (without, you know, the meat).
We weren´t fussy at this point.
We´d made it, we were sitting. And I, as mentioned before was wearing a t shirt like a nappy, with my legs through the arm holes.
After dinner,and fruitlessly hanging our wet clothes on the terraces, we hit the sack.
Ewa and Wojtek had a Basic room with two single beds and I got the basic room with a double bed.
In Peru the bed cloths come in layers of two blankets and a sheet and sometimes and throw on top. Mine was made of some kind of Lama wool and had retained a remarkable amount of odour of the original animal, so I peeled back the other layers revealing the hugest (live) moth I´d ever seen, who wiped his mouth (after chewing on my martes) and buggered of (no pun entended).
So not wanting to keep the Light on too long for the sake of keeping my abode relatively bug free, I decided just to sleep under the pongy throw this night.
Plus it wasn´t that cold.
About half way through the night another huge insect must have infiltrated my room through the glassless window above the door. I could here it droning around in the dark, so I slept the whole night head, body and limbs under the blanket, with the fear that it may find a slither of my flash to feast on.
After the day we´d had sleep wasn´t difficult though.
Day 2 in the valley.
None of my tasty flash was missing in the morning so I guess the smell of my protective Lama cloak dissuaded even the the least fickle insect of going anywhere near me.
Elñando was up early with a spring in his step. The guys awoke, and we had breakfast of eggs and jam and bread on the veranda. I.e. they had eggs, I had bread and jam.
It was at this pointof the trip that I began to find a taste for camamille tea. Being one of the two teas available here, the other mate de coca (made of coca leaves) tasting rather like my under pants did at this moment in time.
Breakfast finished, we moved on to todays trip. Riding mules up the mountain towards Congon our stop for the second night.
We were told horses in the agency, and the most dissapointed with this turn of events was Wojtek. Soon however and after Elñando told us that this trip was more suited to mules, we weren´t complaining. Rather holding on for grim life as we were some how dragged up near vertical climbs by these incredibly strong animals.
Each of our creatures had a personality of it´s own. Mine, the scaredy cat (mule), forever taking the most difficult route to getting away from the whip of the mule driver. Wojteks, the lazy mule, constantly stopping for breaks, and Ewa´s the biter who kept trying to nip any of ours that traed to overtake it. Elnando´s was the pacifist, the placid one that we all wanted to ride.
The mule guide walked the whole way with us, driving the animals on when necessary. Occasionally whipping them into a bolt where we gripped the saddle tightly until the animal calmed down again.
We stopped to visit some ruins near a grassy plateau, and clime some jungle vines. And went for lunch at a small shack on the mountain.
We had an omlette with local herbs and rice and a lemony tasting tea from a local snicket dwelling plant.
The place has an amazing view and the man that lives there has built a little rainforest garden, with fountain, out of decay wood with plants growing out of it.
After lunch more muling fro a few hours until we reach a ridge where we could see both sides of the mountain, and a vast grass covered mountainous land beyond. It was stunning.
Here we dismounted and I shared out the biscuits and bananas, I´d somehow held onto until now. We said goodbye to the mule herder, and the rest of the trip was by foot along a ridge that gave a spectacular view of the surrounding country.
The road down to Congon was smooth but very hard on the calves, but when we got there we stayed in the cleanest hotel so far.
The bed linen was fresh with fabric softener, there was a warm shower, the meal was soup followed by chicken and rice and the owner was a really friendly chap who kept the place spottless.
Me and Wojtek took a dip in a local river, and after the others went to bed, I shared a bottle of Inca Cola (a popular south american, unique tasting, illuminous yellow drink that I´ve become quite addicted too) and a cat about his time in the police, his family, football and the difference between south american and european culture.
Elnando is a fantastically knowledgable guide, and was greatt company for for the trek. And after we returned to chacahapoyas, he invited us to his house for grape wine, yuca doughnuts and some singing and guitar playing. The guys got an amazing voice, and plays brilliantly. Don´t you just hate people like that;)
The third day we visited Kuelap. A 6 hundred meter long stone fortress on a hill in northern Peru, surrounded 360 degrees by mountains. Cosen specifically because in overlooked many different tribal provinces, and was built by 6 or 7 different chachapoyan tribes over 900 years, it was eventually conquered by the Incas and spanish and then forgotten.
Rediscoverd in 1843 and is now termed the Machu Picchu of the north.
The walls are twenty meters high on top of which there was a settlement of round houses with conical shaped roofs, many burial chambers and a seat of government.
The place is a bit overgrown with trees now but this sort of adds to its charm in a way. The Peruvian goverment is restoring a part of it right now. But the work is show due to lack of funds. The bit they´ve done is amazing though.
The entire day was amazing. We were part of a group including an Israelí girl and two fun Americans. (the open minded kind)
Neta the Israelí told us about how service in the army is compulsory in Israel. It got a bit political, but my brain feasted on the kina of conversation it had been starved of for three weeks.
Elnando too, metioned Peru´s former Japanese Prime minister and how he´d attained peace with Ecuador after so many years of fighting and terrorism.
It was an amazing three days, but all I could think about now was a steamy shower and a new set of clothes before going to Elnandos in the evening.
Bonza!
