The Road Less Traveled

Day 4
I awake at 4 a.m., my lungs as cold and dry as stones. I step outside my tent, the summits of Salcantay and Humantay looming with otherworldly perfection, illuminated by a full moon. For the next half hour, I photograph the divine starry night.

A few hours later, dawn arrives picture perfect and in the first 15 minutes of descent into the valley, the air grows warm and humid. In less than half an hour we enter the upper reaches of the tree line. The ecology changes at a surreal pace and in the thick of the cloud forest, butterflies, birds, and mosquitoes make their presence heard and felt.

I spend part of the hike alone, absorbing my environment. Along the way, I pass several locals walking the high valley with small radios glued to their ears. In remote regions of Peru, radios are vital for communication with several radio stations broadcasting very personal news: “Pepe, meet your mom in Cusco on Friday.” Along the route, several little stores can also be used to relay messages. With a grin, Enrique qualifies this: “Relay, but not reliable.”

Seven hundred years earlier, the Incas had used chasquis (runners) stationed along approximately 22,000 kilometres of trails throughout their vast empire, from Colombia in the north to Chile in the south. Each messenger would run seven kilometres to the next tambo, or resting hut, passing along information or packages, one to the next. They could cover an impressive 240 mountainous kilometres a day, bringing news or even fresh fish from the coast.

Our three-hour hike down to warmer climes feels largely like a rest day. We camp across from the third lodge in Collpapampa, located at the confluence of three river valley systems.

There are no roads and so all materials not extracted locally such as sand and stone must be brought up by mules and on people’s backs. We are pre-internet, pre-telephone, and even pre-electricity. Here mules, good walking legs, and battery-operated radios are king.

Several hours after most of us arrive, Álvaro, sporting a terrible rash and stomach ailment, and Diego, who’s suffering in his knees, hobble into camp a bit worse for wear. Diego is exhausted but remains spirited. “I used all the effort I had. I feel a bit like Frodo up in the bogs. I’m tired. But, vale la pena (it’s worth the pain). I feel like a small hero. I’ve never done a trek before. I don’t care if I come first or last. I just want to be here.”

As the sun falls behind the mountains, we don what Graham calls our “bathing costumes” and head down a steep section of switchbacks to the Rio Totora below. After crossing a harrowing foot bridge over a thrashing section of rapids, we arrive at a natural pool fed by a steaming hot waterfall. Without hesitation, we strip down and head for the cleansing waters heated by the earth’s boiler room. Enrique cracks open several beers and as night closes in around us the fireflies flicker and dance.

Returning from the hot springs in the dark, Diego continues to struggle, his breathing laboured. I encourage him and his uncomplaining manner leaves me feeling connected to him in a way that I hadn’t experienced before now. Perhaps, we touch our deepest humanity when we forget ourselves in an effort to reach out to another living being.

This entry was posted on Friday, April 13th, 2007 at 2:47 pm and is filed under Features. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site. Add to del.icio.us.