The Huayhuash Trek, Peru – Part II

Continuing on from Part I, the fourth day of the Huayhuash Trek put us through a strange mixture of sun, clouds, hail, and more sun before finally worrying us with a pretty heavy snow by dinner time. That night Michael – one of our three travelers from Quebec – had waited until his girlfriend Sara was away to the toilet to tell everyone that he planned to propose to her the next morning at a top of a scenic pass. “But what if the weather is bad?” I asked, in a cautiously optimistic tone. We all hoped for the best.

The next morning I opened the zippers on my freeze-crusted tent and was delighted to see not only a mostly clear sky, but also my favorite type of wispy, painterly-like clouds. Breakfast that morning was a simple omelette, but it was more substantial than what was on offer some mornings. I pondered know how fragile food objects such as eggs could remain intact amidst all the shaking on the donkeys’ backs each day. Out here, deep in the mountains there was no easy place to re-stock. Every morning Selina made us a thermos or two of what was actually pretty phenomenal coffee – it was always a highlight of my day.

Day #5 was all about ascending the San Antonio Pass. Most of the time our British trekker David was leagues ahead of the rest of us, however on this occasion I made my way up well before him and the rest of the group. (Knowing the proposal was coming I wanted to have the chance to focus on my own pictures before the group made it up). The view from the pass was phenomenal, but the morning lighting was too harsh for my camera, instead I focused on a different angle and took questionable *jumping* self-timer shots.

Later I was caught of guard when Sarah handed me her phone and asked me to take a picture of her and Michael with the view – that’s when he bent down on one knee and made the proposal. “Oh shoot, this is happening now” I murmured, juggling both Sara’s phone and my Fuji-Film camera to capture the moment. It was certainly a Yes from Sarah, not that we had any doubts, they’d been together for 13 years. The wind was gusty and cold, I couldn’t tell if it was this or the beauty of the moment that got me wiping a tear from my eye. I’d never photographed a proposal before, this was an ultra-memorable first!

Being out in the middle of nowhere meant that none of us had phone signal. The trek was therefore a super rare period for us all to un-plug and take each day at it came. The proposal, which would have otherwise bore a flood of social media posts and family/friend phone calls, stayed just within our group. There was something surreal about the disconnection we had from the world. I kind of loved the forced ignorance – had WW3 started without our knowledge? – What was in my email inbox? – Had some new and ridiculous tariff been implemented? (Meanwhile, up in Boston the Coldplay Kiss Cam affair was the biggest meme of the week).

The night of Day #5 was the only one that we camped in an actual mountain village. There was the option to stay in a “hostel” here, I jumped at the opportunity to have a hot shower and a warm bed. Those who didn’t take the hostel simply stayed in the campground enclosure down the road. Overnight our German trekker named Bille needed to leave via taxi due to a worsening and unknown health condition. I woke on Day #6 not knowing that she had left, and it was strange to think we wouldn’t have contact with her until we’d returned to Huaraz. The altitude had wore on many of us at different stages of the trek, and almost everyone was on the verge of being sick.

One of our two Kiwi trekkers named Maddie also came into Day #6 not feeling well. If she’d wanted to leave, this village would have been the last proper exit point she’d have for the rest of the trek. Weighing this with the hope that her altitude symptoms would improve, Maddie chose to stay with us and ride the emergency horse. Bille had also used the horse a couple days earlier, I’m certain both of them were happy that the option existed. As for myself, I felt lucky to have no issues other than an extremely dry nose (later that afternoon my luck would change).

The sixth day would linger in our minds, for it featured what I refer to as the pass that would never end. Our guide Umberto spoke of each day’s itinerary nonchalantly, brushing off the distances and elevation, not to prematurely scare anyone. But on this day he was certainly too optimistic. The village we’d stayed in had been at a lower elevation, therefore the ensuing pass was a gradual ascent that didn’t level off for several hours. This felt extra tedious being six days into the trek. Needless to say, there were many iterations amongst the group of – are we there yet?

Once everyone had made it for a break at the top of the pass we took a group photo (shown above). In the 10 seconds that I had to run and pose after pressing the shutter button on my camera I must have let the inertia get the best of me, for instead of catching Michael’s hand and climbing up the rock I slammed my right knee into the stone. We still got the shot, and everyone was impressed that the horse had posed so nicely – but in that instant I’d thoroughly messed up my knee and had a pretty immediate limp that lasted the rest of the trek. It’s very me to carelessly injure myself whilst taking a photo, and not … you know, climbing difficult mountain passes and such.

Spending so much time with this group I got to learn a fair bit about everyone’s lives, and the circumstances that brought them here. David from the U.K. had previously taught English in Vietnam, and he has also done so here in Peru. I asked him if he’d consider returning to the U.K. and he spoke of the experience of working on his father’s rural farm as “limiting” (relatable, considering I often return to a small town in America between work and travels). Bille, (who’d sadly left the tour the day prior) had also left a comfortable job as a primary school teacher in Germany. Unsure of an end goal, aside from a life of a different nature, she’d been traveling in Peru and Ecuador, and has worked as a Kite-Surfing instructor!

Maddie from New Zealand was the only other trekker who, like myself, was in Peru just briefly. She’d managed to coordinate being here to hike with her longtime friend Layla; also from New Zealand, who is on a longer adventure through the continent as she acquaints herself wholeheartedly with Latin American culture and Spanish language. Our newly engaged Canadian couple, Michael and Sara were traveling together on differing lengths of work sabbaticals, with her out for 9 months and him for three. Monica, from Spain, actually lives in Huaraz, having married a local mountaineer there. She works remotely, and finally after multiple years she’d got the clearance to take time off for the long trek. And finally, our third Canadian Sam was on a similarly lengthy South American extravaganza southward to Patagonia.

The sixth night was an expected low moment where I felt the accumulated weight and exhaustion of the tour. Most on my mind were the repetitive nights of dry, freezing air. My finger nails were grimier than they’d seemingly ever been, and dirt had practically burrowed into the crackling skin on my fingers. I found myself cranky and annoyed about little things, like how many of us in the group seemed overly fixated on knowing the specifics of each coming day’s length and difficulty. I felt bitchy wishing that we all would just relinquish control and to take each day as it came. At dinner Sam complained openly about the lack of variety in vegetarian options. I felt for him – but I also questioned the limits on what this long tour (being in a meat-heavy country like Peru) could accommodate for his diet. There in the meal tent we noted the absence of our two favorite trail dogs, “Captain Quebec” and “Pinchy”. The last I’d seen of Pinchy she’d chased some donkey out of camp the morning prior …

Though I felt my energy winding down I was soon reinvigorated by the astounding sights of Day #7. By this point I didn’t really think the scenery could get any better, after-all we’d witnessed the full gamut of alpine lakes, sprawling valleys, and photogenic snow-capped peaks. But this morning after what was a comparatively brief and uneventful ascent we were treated to the most sublime of back-to-back spectacles from just the length of a single wavering mountain ridge. The first was a panorama of snowy peaks so wide it had to have stretched almost 180 degrees in view – no photo I could take would do it justice. (It is the one natural scene that I’d lump right alongside the Mt. Bromo sunrise viewpoint in Java for being truly otherworldly beautiful). The next, and final post-card view of the trek featured that night’s campsite as a minuscule spec at the foot of a trio of glacial lakes below a towering mountain.

To speak about my purpose for joining this tour, I came into it with a lot on my mind that I was otherwise looking to shut out. I saw the trek as an opportunity to feel strong and powerful doing something completely within my element. It was also a wonderful chance to photo-document a focused period of travel. Delving a little deeper, I repeatedly thought of my New Year’s Eve incident in Buenos Aires seven months earlier, where I was attacked and nearly had my camera and other belongings stolen. The fact that I was now on my first leisure trip since the attack, and here in this heavenly mountain environment able to document the journey with my Fuji-Film camera meant a lot. Coming here scratched a major itch for trekking that I had previously reserved for Nepal.

That afternoon we got to camp with several hours of sunshine remaining, it was a lighter day for distance. The staff moved our meal table out of the tent so we could dine and still appreciate the scenery. Selina prepared a ceremonial meal of lamb and various potato varieties buried under rocks and earth to cook for 1-hour, it was some real tough meat but delicious anyhow. Afterwards everyone did as a they pleased – some napped, others played Yahtzee, Layla danced tango with Selina and Juliana, and I simply enjoyed being at this gorgeous camp with plenty of daytime heat remaining.

The eighth day was more or less a “move out” sort of day. We got up extra early at 4:30 AM and had our last breakfast before making our way over several hours to a small Puebla connected by road to the outside world. I was still limping with my knee, and I would for several days more – but other than the down hills I actually thought it was good to walk a lot to keep the knee from stiffening. Later, driving on winding roads out of the Cordillera Huayhuash we caught distant glimpses out the shuttle of the exact panorama from the day before. It felt like a farewell to this magical place that had bonded me to eight strangers over the course of a week. As we slowly regained connectivity on our devices I wondered, when is the next time I’ll be able to enjoy this level of disconnection, but also total immersion? …