Title: The Andes From 30,000′

Location: Over Peru

Photograph Copyright Peter West Carey

Welcome to Day 17 on Peter’s Peru Adventure!  Day 16 part 2 can be found here and all previous entries can be found here. To get updates sent to you via email, subscribe here.

What’s that?  Singing?  It’s 2:45 in the morning for heaven’s sake!  The group in the next campsite over is up way early, before the sun, so they can get to Machu Picchu early, spend the day and then head home, wherever that may be.  But that’s not us, we were, up until 2 minutes ago, sleeping soundly with a 6am wake up call.  For a moment it bugs me, all this singing of Happy Birthday in both French and English, but in between songs is laughter and a general jovial spirit.  How can you be angry at people just being happy and doing the best with what they have, in this case, getting up probably at 2am?  I find out later from the conversation around the breakfast table, that I’m the only one who isn’t grumbly about the early morning singing. 

Before breakfast, after the singing and before my fellow trekkers awake I rustle out of my comfy, warm sleeping bag at quarter after five just before the sun comes up.  The rains from the night before have stopped and the refreshing smell of ozone and wetted grass greets me outside of the tent.  Grabbing my camera and nodding my buenos dias’es to the porters and kitchen staff already busy with the day’s agenda, I head up the hill behind our camp which was covered in fog when we arrived last night.  The clouds have lifted from the valley below us and hang a few thousand feet above the towering peaks to the East, South and West, affording me a view of at least 3 mountain ranges if not more. 

Reaching a knoll, I notice a small path leading to another hill still further and taller.   I then proceed to soak my legs on the switch grass dampened from the rain and morning dew.  Atop this higher knoll I find a few odd remains of stone walls and as this is the highest point for a mile or two around, I guess at what has taken place here or what purpose this spot served.  Sheer cliffs guard its West side and expose grand views of many unknown and glaciated peaks beyond.

Glaciers.  How I love glaciers and the mountains to which they tend to cling.  Most of my travels take me to locations with peaks and valleys and slowly advancing and retreating glaciers.  I sit and stare and instinctively start picking out a route up the nearest glacier to the summit.  The mountain is at least five miles away but closer when viewed through my camera’s zoom lens which aids in charting an accent up and around the crevasses and rock outcrops.  Something I’ll likely never climb with so many options in this stretch of the Andes, but it’s a habit to map a path up to know it can be done.  I do this with a lot of things in life without thinking and I’m not sure why.

Later, when we most are awake Rene leads us to the first, lower knoll and drapes the mountains with unfamiliar names.  The largest one I was mentally climbing is Salkantay and is part of the Vilkabamba Range.  To Salkantay’s right is Omantay and still further right, far to the North is Korakayros (sp) and another range who’s name slips by my note taking.  The clouds come and go again, dancing around the mountains and never allowing for a fully unobstructed panoramic view of them all at once.  I know, you can’t actually SEE a panoramic view all at once no matter how fast you spin around, but now it’s time for French Toast for breakfast.  Alice, who lives in France, informs us she’s never had toast like this in her life and certainly not in France.  She probably hasn’t had french fries either, but I don’t ask. 

Alice and Tiffany become indispensable just a bit later as we present trips to all the hired help who have assembled before us where our tents used to stand, packed away while we ate.  First Rene explains the what life is like for most of the porters, coming from local villages and usually involved in farming in one form or another.  Long days and hard work and it shows in the faces of those carrying our loads, cooking our food and generally taking care of our well being.  Alice and Tiffany are employed to pass on our gratitude for all the effort and superb service.  None of us are really sure what either of them say as our Spanish is just passable enough to order a beer or ask where the train station is.

The day’s trekking is easy compared to the last batch of up and down.  The heat returns and my shirt is quickly spotted with sweat as the lush forest returns.  Leaves the size of car doors reach down from above as the “squak, squeeeeek” from strange birds slice through the humidity.  At one point, before the hillside agricultural ruins of Winaywayna, we are passed by a group of porters, one of them carrying a tourist with a bandaged ankle.  A gentle reminder to watch our our steps or face a rough ride home. 

Winaywayna was once used to grow the food needed at Machu Picchu, which did not have large enough fields close by.  Medicinal herb were also grown here and we are shown another one of the double entry ways representing a religious temple beyond.  Behind this temple are two wells or pools, one emptying into the other.  The water then takes a course around the temple and continues to cascade over seven more pools.  The pools served a number of purposes, some ceremonial and some practical, with the higher classes utilizing the higher pools.  The lower in the society a person was, the lower the pool and the more run off.  It’s easy to imagine the last pool being murkier after a day of washing and bathing.

After lunch it’s time for one last uphill push.  One huge set of steps stacked virtually on top of another.  And then, Intipunka, or the Sun Gate.  This is the moment we have been trekking days to relish.  Cresting the last set of steps the valley is laid before me and there, on a promontory jutting into the valley, with Waynapicchu standing guard behind, is Machu Picchu.  I’ve seen the pictures taken from this very spot a number of times but nothing has prepared me for experiencing it for myself.  The location could not be any more scenic with the slender eel of the Urubamba wrapping Machu Picchu in a horseshoe of steep cliffs.  Beyond the sentinel of Waynapicchu are more valley walls with infinite shades of green, more than any location I’ve ever experienced.

There it is, larger than life.  Little ants milling about the rock structures (oh wait, those are people and some llamas).  It’s grander than I had imagined as it dominates and covers all the available land in front of Waynapicchu.  I was not prepared to really be here, I guess, as it seems almost dream like.  A lot of this is in my mind, I know.  Things I’ve projected on the place from lore and stories.  Growing up in suburbia in Washington state areas of South America always seem exotic.  It didn’t help that Raiders of the Lost Ark, one of my all time favorite movies, opens in the jungles of Peru, adding credibility that it’s a place only Indiana Jones would dare visit.  Not some kid from Lynnwood High School, whose big adventures were heading to the mall at lunch sometimes.  My perception definitely plays a part in how I view the ruins now.  All of ours does.  Even Rene, who has been to this spot scores of times before.

Jubilation.  Excitement and a bit of tiredness mix through our crowd.  Giddiness too of having made the trek.  Sometimes in life it’s really good to have a goal and reach it. Sometimes. 

After the photos and video are done we still have to get down to the city itself and the busses waiting for us.  We won’t spend much time in the ruins today and we won’t actually enter the city walls, just the outskirts.  Tomorrow will be our day for exploration.  Tonight is our night for celebration (ok, as it turned out, tomorrow night is ALSO a night for celebration) and after the busses drop us off at Aqua Caliante, the main town just below the ruins, we hoof it just a bit further to our reward for the day’s walking: Hot Springs.  A dip in these large, naturally fed pools does us good, so do the margaritas and beer.  The jubilation of earlier in the day returns, go figure.  The sweaty, ragged people are left on the trail and now replaced there are bathing suit clad party goers.  Well, except for the odd “Dodgy Guy In The Corner”.  That dude was weird.

Walking back to our camp on the Urubamba River we pick up more wine to keep the party going, and go it does.  I’m up until 3:30am talking with Rene and Alice (and later Jeff) about life situations.  Three of us, growing up at least 6,000 miles apart from each other.  And yet, I find comfort in the similarities of our life situations.  Comfort from friends who were strangers just days ago, but closer now for having made the journey and shared time together.  Sharing empathy and advice as well as laughter and exuberance.  Writing this seven moths later I feel compelled to thank them again for their time and advice.  And to tell them to put out the damn cigarettes!!

Tomorrow we will tour Machu Picchu all day.  Not the best thing to do on 1.5 hours of sleep and slightly hung over, but, ehhh, we’re here already, might as well.

Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to head out on the open road with me?  Humor me and say, “sure!”.  For those interested, I’ve listed out some of my quirks on the Travel Blog Exchange 2009 Road Trip website.  Enjoy!

Title: Out Chewing In Their Field

Location: Langley, Washington, USA

Photography Copyright Peter West Carey

Title: As Far As You Can See

Location: Langley, Washington, USA

Photograph Copyright Peter West Carey

I’m typing this post on the plane from LA to Seattle.  Sabrina and I have successfully navigated the US Immigration and Customs system and are about 1.5 hours from touching down in Seattle.  We won’t be home on the island until tomorrow, but we’ll be home enough, staying at my parents’ house because of the late arrival.

Today, Friday, was a packing up day.  Sabrina also wanted to make one more trip to the Mercado to get the doll we couldn’t get (evidently the other one wasn’t quite right).  She has some money left so we made a trip into town with the Cronins.  Before that we packed up most of our stuff, which wasn’t too hard.

The market was all markety still with a bit more life to it.  We also took the opportunity to visit some of the local artisan shops that weren’t open before.  Here were more hand crafted items and not the same old, same old across the street.  Dan and Amy are doing more decorating in their home with the Mexician style found along the coast so they ended up getting a few items while Sabrina and I looked.

Wow, this is really starting to sound like a  boring day, but that’s because it has been, in a good way.

After arriving back at the condo, we finished the very last minute cleaning and then I let Sabrina have one last dip in the pool.  She was quite happy and says she’ll miss the pools.  I took time to do a quick video interview with Sabrina that should be posted on this post some place.  Maybe even here. 

Cab ride to the airport then dinner. Booked through security as it’s a bit less stringent than the USA (no taking off your shoes, pulling out the laptop, liquids in bags….none of that).  We got to walk out to the plane again and zooooommmm!!!  Into the sky.  LA was also uneventful except for the quirk where we had to get off our plane, take a bus to Immigration and Customs, then loop back through security to get on the exact same plane we were just on. 

I’ll be writing up a “wrap up” post soon with more info on some of the places we visited and more specifics.  But for now, goodnight.

Title: Proxy Falls

Location: Central Cascades, Oregon, USA

Photograph Copyright Peter West Carey

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It’s Thursday!  Our last full day in this great town.  Maybe it’s more like a city as we were informed about 100,000 people live here.  It sure doesn’t seem that big.

I woke up extra, super early (8:15am) to go scuba diving.  I’m new to scuba, having just completed my training dives back in January.  This was my first chance to dive when there was no snow on the ground.  After taking a sleepy Sabrina over to The Cronin’s place, I caught a cab to the main pier in town.  The ONLY pier in town.

Showing up early, I had the chance to wander a bit as the city awoke.  The sun had been up for maybe an hour by this time but it seems nothing gets started too early.  There were shop owners setting up tables of pastries and families sitting down to eat.  With a large breakfast spread and soldiers decked out in dress whites, the small Navy station next door to the harbor master’s office was a hub activity.  Further down the pier locals lazed about, sometimes helping fishing boats onto the shore or others as they prepared to go sport fishing out on the open sea.  I was the only gringo in sight and felt perfectly unobtrusive to the normal commotion of beach life at this time of day, long before the tourists start meandering the waterfront.  It’s a slice of life I’d love to come back and document because it was so authentic and simple.  Honest.

Thierry from Carlo Scuba showed a bit before nine and I hopped into his dive boat.  The grandson of the Carlo in Carlo Scuba, the gentleman who started the dive operation in the 1960s, Thierry had an easy confidence and timeless tan, weathered skin from spending his life on the waves.  He took time to explain to me where we were going that day and that his biggest interest was my enjoyment of the dives, with the second dive being optional if either of us didn’t feel comfortable with things.  I was his only fare for the day and I gotta admit it was nice having the personal attention.  Back at his shop at Las Gatas beach I filled out paperwork while he suited me up with all the gear I’d need.  My friend Paul had mentioned, when I asked him for advice on travel diving, to check over the gear and to not go with any shop that has sub-par equipment.   I was relieved to see everything, except the mask, was in great condition and fairly new.  And my training with Dave from Dive Canuck gave me the knowledge I needed to inspect the gear myself to make sure I would be safe.  Thanks to you both!!

The first dive site was Solitary Rock, a small rock jutting 30 feet out of the sea about a mile offshore on top of which sits an automated light and horn.  I couldn’t help but look up and think it’d be a cool rock to climb, while Thierry explain how we’d dive around 50′ under water and circle the rock.  I have this odd juxtaposition with diving, in that I tend to get seasick easily when on small boats on big waves, such as now.  Once in and under the water, all is fine.  It’s just the boats.  But it wasn’t bugging me too bad as I kept my eyes on the horizon most of the time.

The water was awesome!  So warm and visibility to about 50′.  And so unlike the Puget Sound where I trained. Don’t get me wrong, the Puget Sound in Washington has an amazing amount of sea life wherever you look.  But there is something to be said for good visibility and brightly colored fish.  Thierry had mentioned the wave surge and to just go with it as it at times pushed me towards the rocks and then away.  Underwater those surges aren’t as violent as the wave crashing on the surface but it can be disconcerting as I kick for all my might to go forward and only make a few inches.  After a while I remembered Thierry’s words and those of a story I once heard that goes something like:

“Two monks are sitting by a lake with a giant waterfall at one end.  They notice an old man jump from the top of the waterfall and then stay submerged for some time.  Fearing he was drowned the monks were quite concerned and were just about to enter the water to look for him when he bobbed up and swam to shore.  Amazed, one of the monks asked the old man how he avoided drowning against such a pounding of water, to which the old man answered ‘When the water goes down, I go down.  When the water goes up, I go up.’”

I’ve always liked that story, even if I just butchered it from the original.  It’s a good reminder to not always fight against the way things are.  Like when you’re underwater and the forces at work are so much larger than you could hope to struggle against.  Once I took this stand point, it was a lot more enjoyable.

Thierry pointed out a lot of eels and fish hiding in cracks and other places my novice eyes failed to notice.   I knew he had done this hundreds of times but he was a good sport showing a newbie around his neighborhood.  He also took the time to grab any garbage we came across, leaving the sea a bit cleaner for the privilege to pay a visit for a little while.  After Solitary Rock we went towards shore to a cove called, uhhh….The Cove.  This area got pretty hammered by Tropical Storm Andres and a lot of the coral had been broken off.  While not spectacular, I still enjoyed it a lot and got to see a variety of fish not spotted further out at the rock.  All in all, a wonderful diving experience.  And the beer back on the beach in front of Thierry’s shop while he put away gear was the icing on the cake.

Back on land I met up with The Cronin’s and Sabrina who were just heading to The Tides, a nicer beach resort Dan and Amy stayed at during their honeymoon three years ago.  For a fee we could use the resort for the day, including people bringing us food and drinks to lounge seats on the beach.  It also had six pools, one of which Sabrina could stand up in bringing a huge smile to her face.  Her swimming abilities are improving but she’s not quite there, and this pool was a lot of fun for her.  I also took the chance to get a massage which did me quite well.

After a great sunset for our last night in town, Lucia offered to watch the other kids so Dan, Amy and I could head out for an adult’s night out.  We were the only table seated in the restaurant and the bar.  This town is fairly empty from a tourist’s standpoint but that offers some chances to move about without huge crowds, which is nice.

Again, the night ended at some point.

Title: Grid

Location: Ixtapa, Mexico (MAP)

Photograph Copyright Peter West Carey

I woke up this morning, Wednesday the 24th, to realize I really was sunburnt.  You know how it never seems that bad the first day you’re burnt but then you look in the mirror the day after and the red is soooooo much redder?  That was me.  It wasn’t hurting too bad and was blatantly confined to the areas I unwisely missed putting on lotion, like my entire back.  Don’t ask my how I missed that one.  My only excuse is “I don’t see it that often”.

Sabrina and I got a fairly early start to the day and headed down to the Mercado Tourista (Tourist Market…..but you can’t even buy tourists there).  Sabrina wanted to get another doll and as she had some funds left, it seemed like a good day for it.  It sure was cooler than the first time we went.  It’s also really cool to see Sabrina becoming more comfortable talking to the market owners, telling them “No gracias” when she doesn’t want something and, well, just being a great girl.  The only problem; the one stall we wanted to buy from was closed!  Arghhh!

Undaunted, we zig-zagged through the rest of the stalls searching for a replacement doll.  The vendors all get their wares from the same places, so things repeat here and there, including the dolls.  While on our search I started getting caught up in getting stuff for people and the list kept growing.  It was really a lot of fun and Sabrina understands the concept of haggling, including the part where we sometimes need to walk away if the price isn’t right.  She also is great at just looking at things and not obsessing about buying it all……most of the time.

The Mercado lines one side of a narrow street with cars parked on both sides.  It’s about two city blocks long and has just enough room between the front stall and the street to let a couple people pass by.  For a tall guy like me, the low hanging dresses, blankets and aprons get to be annoying.  It feels cramped.  Perpendicular to the street there are narrow rows of stalls about 20 feet deep.  These are lined on both sides with more stalls with each merchant taking up maybe seven feet of real estate, some less, some more.  The colors are enticing with lots of bright solids and intricate designs from modern artists and some Aztec artwork.  Jewelers abound and their stalls are more open and easier to navigate, with a plethora of silver necklaces, bracelets and other bright shiny things.  Most stalls have a fan and the owners sit nearby, either on the ground or on crates.  The owners that have stalls facing the street usually sit on the street side to give you access to the brickabrack lining the shelves.  Passing some stalls brings either conversations between owners, laughter or a soccer game on TV.  Most owners are not that pushy and I enjoy this fact.  They wait until your interested and then don’t hound you when you leave, unlike some markets I’ve been to.  It’s a lot more enjoyable that way and much more family friendly with healthy looking children running about. I took a moment to record part of our walk along the mercado. Sounds Of The Mercado

Back at the condo it’s time for the pool.  I had Sabrina test out the water proof case for my camera that I planned to take diving the next day.  Luckily, still no leaks!  Although I now had a LOT of pictures of Dan’s belly, Amy’s feet and odd angles of the side of the pool.  Thus is the joy of digital cameras and kids, they can play all they like.  If you really want to see a picture of Dan’s belly, I’m going to need $20 first.

Dragging Sabrina out of the pool we adventured to the beach with hopes of taking a water taxi from the end of La Ropa beach to Las Gatas.  Las Gatas is located closer to the mouth of the Zihuatanejo Bay and is slightly protected by a shallow break water teaming with fish.  The tide made the walk a bit precarious in spots as we had to scurry (or flail) around a bulkhead when the waves were out.  I timed it wrong and now have a cut on the top of my left foot as a rock pulled free by the undertow smashed on top of it.  It’s the price you pay to walk the beach sometimes.  The kicker is we had to pass right back through this pinch point as the taximan told us most everything on Las Gatas closed up around 4:30.

With our dreams dashed we resorted to sitting on the beach, eating a fine meal and listening to mariachi players who walk the beach looking for suckers like us who want some music.  It’s a bit campy, but we’re on vacation. Here’s a sample of the music. Once again, most of the beach restaurants are mostly empty so service is good.  Once beach vendor in particular caught the kids’ eyes with small carved trinkets shaped like turtles, toucans and whales.  Sabrina scored a few and the guy threw in a bonus so she was tickled pink.   I took some time to ask Sabrina some questions about the trip in a completely informal interview.  For my efforts, I got an eye-roll but alas, here’s the interview. After we had sat for a bit I decided to go for a run as I have a half marathon to run the day after we get back.  It wasn’t good timing on my part, but alas, there you have it.   So while Sabrina waited for her banana split to come, I headed back to the condo and then off on a short run.  Pictured here is the beach (La Ropa) that I ran, a nice place to get in not enough miles before Saturday.

The night ended at some point.

Tomorrow: Scuba Diving and The Tides Resort