Sleep with the cuy & get up with the chickens pt 1

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  Lares Valley, Peru
Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Our Lares Valley trek was the perfect end to our month in Peru. Starting in Huaran, a small town near Urubamba, we bumbled our way through asking countless folks how to proceed through the town up the mountain to our first night´s campsite, Cancha Cancha. I quickly discovered that hand gestures, even when pertaining to directions, are not universal across cultures. Tracing an S-shaped snakey outline in the air, from what I can gather, means travelling upwards around here, and pointing straight ahead, to a landmark, say, means absolutely nothing. After putting Huaran behind us, 90% of the folks we ran into spoke Spanish as a second language, too, so communication got progressively more interesting. The Lares valley is one of the cultural heritage sites of Peru where indigenous (mostly Quechua) people live much as they did 500 years ago. All clothing is made from scratch, start to finish, beginning with shearing the sheep, llama, and alapaca that most families own. We might have gone a few hours without seeing another person while walking this trail, but we were seldom alone. Livestock greeted us at every turn, mules, donkeys, horses, sheep, goats, llama, alpaca, pigs, chickens, ducks, and the infamous cuy (I´ll save that for later.) The scenery was incredible as usual, and yes Rob, it was very LOTR-esque, mostly because Frodo and I whine with about the same regularity. Seems that I´m not very well cut out for high altitudes, and without prescription medication (Diamox), I´m pretty much useless as a hiker. Like I´ve said before, just imagine climbing up a mountain with the flu. Nathan seems to be quite well suited, though, and took even our toughest days like a champ.
We made it to our first night´s campsite, a tiny village (I´d say maybe 20 huts, less than 100 people)called Cancha Cancha, and made camp in front of the village school-town hall-hangout place. We chatted a bit with the locals, who knew even less spanish than I do, gave out some coca leaves, took some pictures, and got in some quality llama-watching. A word about the coca leaves-whether you´re morally opposed to them or not, the plant is sacred to the local people, and giving a few leaves to the people you meet is a universal gesture of gratitude, welcome, friendship, and general goodwill. Given that I don´t know a word of Quechua, and that smiling and hand-waving don´t seem to be a part of their culture, we certainly needed some way to communicate friendly intentions. Miguel, a guide we spoke to in Cusco, suggested taking a bag of coca leaves with us on the trek, and looking back now, I wouldn´t recommend travelling to the valley without them. (edit: we ran into Miguel in Cusco, and he asked if I would post his email for anyone interested in contracting him as a guide. Again, I would highly highly reccomend him. miguelj24athotmaildotcom) In fact, if I could do it over again, I would´ve taken a variety of gifts, because these are very open,kind,country people, and you can´t walk around this territory without someone doing you a favor. I brought a box of colored pencils for the kids (pens, pencils, and paper are difficult to come by out there), which seemed to go over well. I´d also recommend a couple of inflatable balls, because the boys love soccer, but have to suffice with a tin can.
The second day was challenging, certainly. Our route took us over a 4600 meter pass, difficult enough, but heavy fog was setting in on us, and by the time we summited, visibility was zero. On top of a mountain pass is not a fun place to be when you can´t see and its snowing. Map and compass weren´t really an option since we couldn´t see any landmarks to orient ourselves. Luckily, we passed a guide who suggested that we follow the horse tracks and poop. I´ll never complain about the horse apples again, because they certainly saved us. The fog finally lifted after a couple more hours, and we found ourselves in the more modern, larger town of Quishuarani.
Quishuarani is located near an enormous zone of protected queña trees and bird life, and the village has obviously benefitted from some conservation funds. In contrast to Cancha Cancha, most houses were two story, with metal rather than thatched roofs, electricity was available, the school was new and large, a major road was near the town, and in general the residents seemed happier and more comfortable.
After asking a few kids where we could camp and getting smiles but no useful info, we were offered a place to stay by the first adults we came across, Sonia and Mario, a young couple with a 4 month old son. Although we had planned to camp outside, they seemed concerned about the cold weather and offered us shelter from the elements. We couldn´t really turn down such a gracious invitation, so they led us to a basement room with a packed dirt floor.
to be continued

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