When The Altitude Caught Up With Us

Wednesday 10 January

When booking out of the hotel after a typical continental breakfast, we also left our two suitcases in reception. For the next three days we would be living out of our back packs –hoping we had packed sufficient clothes. Beatriz arrived on the dot of 08.30 with Alfonso our driver and we set off straightaway, threading our way through the morning rush hour traffic, out of the city. The green suburbs of Arequipa stretched for a few kilometres, with small rows of shops and lots of mostly single storey houses with tiled roofs. These soon degenerated into mud-and-grass brick dwellings with corrugated tin roofs, many still under construction. These belonged to people migrating to Arequipa from smaller towns and villages in the Andes mountains and settling on the outskirts of the barren desert. As you looked across the ghettos iron strengtheners rose from corners of some buildings suggesting that in the future they hoped to add another floor – an optimistic sign for people who has almost nothing. This area has no running water, so a truck delivers water daily, and the settlers collect their ration in buckets. As water is becoming more and more scarce in this region, and already a problem for the city, it is unlikely that any project to bring a water supply to these houses will succeed. They have managed to tap into the electricity supply, so can have lighting. Cooking is often over a fire outside the house. Most of these people have no permanent work, and we saw herds of men gathered by the side of the road, waiting for employers such as farmers to arrive in a truck and offer them a job for a day. In most cases this is their only form of income. These ghettos stretched for miles, and had swelled Arequipa’s population to over a million, in a ratio of 60% ghettos and 40% Arequipians. Everyone has the same voting rights and benefits whether they have moved from the mountains or have lived and worked in the city all their lives.

The road had only been metalled for just over a year, but the traffic was continually slowed by hairpin bends and hills, where overtaking was impossible. We passed the largest cement plant in South America at Yura, supplying Chile and Bolivia as well as Peru – it reminded me of my days at Blue Circle – eons ago - with the white dust covering everything around. Many large trucks travel back and forth along this road to the huge copper mines in the mountains, carrying supplies of sulphuric acid which is required in the mining process. We traveled around the base of one of the volcanoes, the road climbing all the time, to see the crater from the other side. The day was warm, but overcast with some low cloud drifting across the top of the peaks, so occasionally our views were slightly hampered. But mostly we could see the snow-covered Andes standing proud behind the volcanoes -. the whole landscape raw and harsh and wonderful.

The road continued to climb and we were soon traveling through the National Park, where we saw herds of llamas, alpacas, vicunas and cross breeds grazing near the roadside. The vicuna is one of the most prized animals of Peru, as the wool obtained from its coat is very fine and soft and warm (and expensive). The alpaca also produces excellent quality wool, although many are now being raised for meat, which is very popular in Peru and is increasingly being exported all over the world. The crossbreed llamas and alpacas have an equal number of chromosomes, so they are not able to reproduce. The land here was flat open ground, covered with a variety of grasses, with mountains running parallel to the road, a few kilometres away. As we reached the far side of the National Park, we could see what looked like a dark forest on the side of the pale sandy-looking mountains facing us, but as we got closer, we realized these “trees” were in fact dark rock formations, that close to, looked like fairytale castles. They jutted from the surface of the mountains, with “towers”, and “windows” easily recognizable. Beside these “castles” we stopped for a short break at a café – the road to Puno turns off here, and there is a lot of tourist trade, as well as commercial traffic. Sheep and an alpaca, cats and a couple of dogs were roaming around, trying to scrounge food from any available source. There were stalls set out under a long thatched roof, displaying local Peruvian hand-made goods, and ladies in traditional multi-coloured costumes, were only too pleased to show us their wares. It was a real splash of colour in an otherwise neutral landscape – otherwise only the dark “castles” interrupted the sandy terrain. The ladies lived in basic, one storey houses, only a kilometre or so away - almost in the middle of nowhere, dependent on trucks to bring them supplies. There used to be a railway station, the end of the line, which connected with Arequipa and Puno, several hundred kilometres away, to carry produce as well as people, but due to lack of use, it closed down. Any crops farmed, wool from the animals or meat now has to be trucked to market.

It was soon time to resume our journey, which overall today would take about eight hours. The landscape changed soon after we left the café to become more scrubby and vegetation more varied, and the metal road ran out. The dirt track became bumpy and rutted with lots of rocks and puddles and we were bounced up and down, like a typical “off road” ride, as we wound ever upwards towards the snowline.

As the track climbed the landscape kept changing, becoming flat and greener with grasses, mosses and stunted bushes, and lakes and streams fed by snow melt from the mountains, flowing between the tussocks. The mountains had now receded to the horizon. On the lakes were lots of ducks – teal, coots, ibis and even a heron, while overhead flew lots of small birds, in various hues, darting up and down in the search for food. At one lake there was a whole flock of flamingos, standing in the water on one leg, looking very elegant.

A little further on the road forked and we took the right hand track which led us up even higher into the mountains. At one point we had to stop for an “ecological” break, as there are no facilities in this barren land. Still we kept on climbing, the height above sea-level rising to over 4,000 metres (about 13,000 feet). The air was very thin and when we stopped for lunch, just outside Callalli, a small enclave of a few houses along the side of the river, and we had to walk around very slowly. A tasty box lunch of cheese and olives, fresh vegetable salad – including large crunchy sweetcorn kernels, a favourite in this region – egg rolls, tangerines, sweet biscuits and coca tea – the brew you are encouraged to drink to minimize altitude sickness. We had drunk some this morning at breakfast, and it is like a herbal tea, made from bay type leaves, and tastes quite pleasant. At this time it was still sunny and warm with blue skies and large white fluffy clouds. Colin had had a bit of a headache throughout the morning, but put it down to the after effects of our very late night on Monday.

We continued our journey, reaching the brown muddy torrent of the Colca river, where the road turned and followed the valley, about three hundred metres above the river, along the side of the often bare and rocky mountains which rose above us For most of the way the track is just wide enough for two vehicles to pass, but it is very close to the edge and sheer drop to the river. This canyon is the deepest canyon in the world, beating the Grand Canyon in America by about five metres. It is not a wide “u” shaped valley as it was formed by the eruptions of up to seventy volcanoes of varying sizes, followed by glaciation, after which the river must have been very powerful as it has incised down, forming a ravine as much as 20 metres deep in places.

The track slowly descended to 3,600 metres as we passed through the tiny settlements of Sibayo and Canocota, both based on the Spanish style of village, with a large square and church, and houses around – very basic mud-brick dwellings, existing on rearing a few animals and farming small amounts of crops, mostly for their own consumption. We saw the first pre-Inca terraces of the valley, rising high up the mountainsides, taking advantage of any small space that could be farmed – with animals or crops in small walled fields. We would learn more about these terraces tomorrow, when we traveled further along the canyon.

I gradually began to feel headachy, and slightly nauseous. And it began to rain, slowly at first – great droplets splattering from darkening skies – getting increasingly heavy as we continued on our way. By the time we reached Chivay, the capital of the region, I was feeling distinctly ill. It had been Beatriz’s plan to stop in Chivay and have a wander round, but the rain rather spoilt that plan, and we decided to go straight to the hotel –Colin and I thought it would be a short distance down the road, which was still very bumpy and uneven, and now becoming flooded in places. Chivay had a large, almost modern square and lots of shops, with local people walking around, going about their business, undeterred by the rain – hardier than us Brits. Compared to the other settlements we had seen, this is a modern town, with internet cafes, pizzerias and modern telephones. It is now the summer season here, but that means rains, and snow on the mountains. Oddly, in winter time, it is extremely cold here in the valley – down to minus 25degrees C at night, and often not rising much above 5 degrees C during the day, but it is bright sunshine and blue skies and no rain. Summer is from late December through to the end of March. Recent years have seen very dry summers, and therefore local people welcome any rain that comes their way.

We continued on, passing through tiny lakes in the road now, as well as men and children (they are on their 2 ½ months summer holidays from school) bringing the animals back from their daytime pasture to fields close to their homes. We passed by Yanke, another small town, where Beatriz and Alfonso would be staying, until after about half an hour, we turned off the road, on to an even smaller, rockier track between two fields. We bumped and lurched along, my head aching madly by now, and my stomach not sure where it should be. The sign at the road had read El Parador de Colca Hotel, but we could see no signs of any habitation as we trundled along. We eventually came to another home-made sign, telling us to turn left for the hotel – we now seemed to be in the middle of fields, with the river some distance ahead of us. We turned left and found two tiled wheelways along the track, which we followed, suddenly turning and dropping down towards a long thatched building a hundred or metres or so below in a series of hairpin bends. As the track continued to wind down and round, I was only too pleased not to be driving – it was almost hair-raising. But Alfonso is one of the best drivers, and he managed very capably, and delivered us safely to the turning area, beside a horse corral and a series of ponds.

By now the rain was almost sheeting down, so we had no time to admire the scenery, and anyway I felt absolutely awful – pounding head, dizzy and shivering, and very sick. This was altitude sickness at its worst. Colin, too, was feeling poorly, but not quite so bad. Evelyn, the manager at the hotel, introduced herself and showed us speedily to our large room – number 2, in the long line of thatched rooms, that reminded me of the barns at Gillamoor, which we used to visit regularly. They were built of thick chunks of basalt, with lots of glistening, piney coloured wood, and stone floors. There was a huge bed, with lamps, chairs and table, and an upstairs mezzanine floor, with comfy arm chairs and coffee table. The bathroom wasn’t large, but had a big walk in shower with a drenching head. There was a heater already switched on to warm the room, which was very welcome, as the weather was distinctly cool, apart from my shivers. One of the few things I noticed was that the flowers in the room and in the bathroom, were deep red Sweet Williams – one of Juz’s favourite flowers – it made me think of home. We arranged to have dinner at 19.00, but the last thing I felt like doing at the time, was eating anything, but as we were the only guests at the hotel this evening, it seemed rude to say “no”.

We both went straight to bed (it was about 16.00 by now) to try and sleep off the effects of the altitude and woke with the alarm at 18.00 – ever thoughtful Colin, had set it in case we overslept. He was feeling quite a bit better, and my headache was only about half strength by now, but I was still unsteady, and couldn’t stop my teeth chattering, even though I had been in bed, deep under blankets and throws. I eventually roused myself and changed for dinner, to try and get myself together, and we wandered along to the end of the building, to Room 8, which downstairs was a rustic restaurant, and upstairs a comfy lounge with sofas, television, CD player, games, books – just about everything to keep you amused if the weather precluded any exploration. This is an Orient Express hotel, so we shouldn’t have been surprised that everything had been thought of.

I managed to eat a small amount of each of three courses, while Colin managed a dessert too – an “amusée” of cheese, peppers and chillies, a choice of creamy pumpkin soup (me) or quinoa soup with cheese (Colin), grilled fillets of trout from the hotel ponds with mashed sweet potato and mixed fresh vegetables from the gardens here. Colin also had quinoa pudding – similar to rice pudding, so a favourite for him, while I drank some chamomile tea. They had thoughtfully sat us by a wood burning stove, but even that didn’t make me warm and by the time we finished eating, I wanted nothing more than to return to the haven of my bed. On reaching the room we found the shutters had been closed to shut out the rainy scene, the curtains drawn, the bed turned down, with chocolate squares on the throw, and candles lit all round the room. It was very romantic, but absolutely wasted on me in my current state. As I climbed into bed, I found a hot water bottle, warming the sheets – which had been extremely cold in the afternoon – and was heaven to snuggle up to – neither of us could remember when we last had a hot water bottle in bed – it’s before we were married anyway. Then I found another under my pillow. Two hot water bottles – each – we were being very spoilt. I took some painkillers and fell asleep almost immediately, still cuddling the hot water bottles and with blankets and throws covering me – feet as well – I must have been sick. Colin too slept well, although he first remembered to set the alarm again for tomorrow morning as our tour starts at 07.00 and we have to eat breakfast before we leave.