airlai.com  ericlai.com

2006

The morning started auspiciously enough.  I "treated" myself to one of my dozen Clif Bars; arrangements (to the tune of 80 soles) were made for Tammy to ride a horse, so she wouldn't have to complete the morning's ascent (700+ meters vertically) on foot.  Considering that this morning was to be the hardest leg of the trek, a horse didn't sound like such a bad idea to those of us who were about to embark upon the trail on foot.

Our group introduced some new members.  Five French dudes who had originally been scheduled to start their trek Tuesday had instead ended up taking a bus early Wednesday morning and joining us at the campsite at Soraypampa.  Our group now numbered fifteen.  After breakfast, we re-did our introductions, picked up the tents, and set off on our way.

The first part of the trail from Soraypampa wasn't too arduous; it was more muddy than anything else, with the rolling hills interspersed with streams and riverlets.  Tammy's horse was led by new second guide Jorge, easily traversing the terrain

..whenever it didn't stop to drink from the streams, that is.

Tammy's horse wasn't the only one around.  The bases of the rolling mountains were dotted with horses:

As I continued trudging through the mud, my shoes got caked with the muddy blackness.  Soon, though, that would be the least of my problems.

 


I started off near the front of the pack, but as the rolling hills transformed into a steep, rocky ascent,

I found myself gradually falling closer and closer to the back.  I had felt fine the previous day, but the altitude -- rapidly increasing from Soraypampa's 3850 meters (12,705 feet) -- was now beginning to take its toll on me.  Before long, I was dead last, struggling to catch up with the group (which was more altitude-acclimated, thanks to an earlier arrival in Cusco).

I looked back to survey my progress -- we'd climbed quite a ways --

but there was a long way to go.

As minutes of climbing rolled into hours, pangs of nausea and extreme fatigue increasingly overtook me.  Well over two miles above sea level, I found myself taking short, quick, labored breaths, gasping for what little air there was at that elevation.  Before long, I had been reduced to taking pained steps for only seconds at a time, before my body essentially forced me to stop and take a rest -- over and over again.  I'd never felt anything like it; it was true misery.  As I baked in the sun, a fleeting thought crossed my mind that, at that very moment, I could have been sitting in my comfortable office in SF, or having a nice lunch with Victoria.  Home never felt more far away.

Making matters worse, I ran out of water, and -- even though I'd purchased a filter from REI for this very purpose -- the thought of drinking cloudy water from a stream was not an appealing one.  Thankfully, Jorge dropped back to give me some water, but little could be done about my altitude-induced fatigue.  He looked on as, over and over, I collapsed onto a rock to recuperate from just a few steps.

Thankfully, every bad dream has an end, and this one ended in spectacular fashion: with an up-close and personal view of the snowcapped Salkantay peak.  We trekked nearly half a mile vertically -- and quite a bit farther horizontally -- and as a product of these efforts, I was standing on higher ground -- 4600 meters (15,180 ft) -- than I had ever been on in my life:
 

There was little time for celebration, however.  Since I had reached the peak so late, the rest of the group had already been waiting and enjoying the view for some time.  So within minutes of my arrival, Pio and the gang were rearing to get back on the trail, which they did.  The good news: from the summit, the trail went downhill.  The bad news: it was completely covered with potentially ankle-spraining, toe-blistering rocks.  The ugly news: having just ascended half a mile, I was still dead tired, and the prospect of three more hours of walking -- downhill or otherwise -- was not an appealing one.

While the descent was less arduous than the ascent, it was still painstakingly slow, and very far.  As we trekked down the mountain -- descending to and below the elevation at which we had begun the day -- the snowy peaks of the Salkantay lapsed behind us. 

The rocky downhill slope we were traversing extended for as far as the eye can see...

...but despite all the walking, I tried to keep my spirits high.

After no shortage of stops, I arrived at the makeshift clearing where the rest of the group had begun lunch.  As I plopped my weary body onto one of the remaining seats, I was brought a piping hot, delicious bowl of soup that definitely hit the spot.  It's amazing how good a meal can taste after miles of tough trekking.

Fortunately, the toughest part of the day was already over.  The afternoon segment of the trail would feature a continued descent -- this time bringing us into the jungle.  Once our food was done, we set off on our way..
 

..and, sure enough, as our altitude decreased, the rocky hills were gradually replaced with lush forest.

One more thing changed, too.  Gone was my extreme fatigue from the morning's climb; the dropping altitude gave me my wind back, and I was no longer huffing and puffing in order to stay near the front of the pack. 

The weather, however, was even more temperamental.  As we descended into the jungle, drops of rain started falling.  Then, unbelievably, it started snowing -- definitely the last thing I'd expect to see happen in a jungle.  The crazy weather persisted for about 45 minutes, preventing me from taking any pictures during that part of the trail.  When the snow stopped, though, I looked back at where we'd come from:

We'd certainly walked a long way for a single day.  The most stunning contrast was that, while the snowy mountains were visible behind us, we saw this in front of us:

Parts of the trail overlapped with streamlets flowing from the mountain above.  When I wasn't trying to keep my feet dry, I was able to catch these views of the jungle valley in the slowly setting sun:

Finally, at the base of one of these forested mountains, we spotted our campsite:

With our arrival, the most challenging day of the trek drew to a close.  The campsite at Chalhuay offered "showers" (outdoor stalls, with four curtains arranged in a square and a garden hose pumping freezing river water) and a beautiful view.  We set up our tents; some people braved the shower.  At about 8:00 or 8:30, the fifteen of us huddled around a tiny table, braving the cold night air to await our dinner.  We chatted, we ate.  Not long thereafter, it was time to call it a day.

Map of Peru