Salkantay Trek: Day 1

9/21/09 – 4:30am. Cusco, Peru. Mike and I finally wake up after hitting the snooze button three times.

In an effort to save a few bucks, we had downgraded to another hostel a bit further from the main plaza. Little did we know how much quality we sacrificed for a few dollars.

The owner of our new hostel is a stout Peruvian man (although all Peruvians are short in comparison to us) who continually emits an unpleasant stench of sour alcohol and body odor. The day before our trip we went out collecting last minute items and each time we would return to find him in various stages of his bender. Morning – He greets us with his button down dress shirt neatly tucked in, his hair combed back and his eyes opened widely. Lunch – He has a beer in his hand and, with an animated wave of his hand, he eagerly approaches the door to let us in. Buy supplies – A woman wearing a short red dress accompanies him on the lobby couch. His eyes are nearly closed and he is laughing uncontrollably. We knock on the door three times before he acknowledges us. Dinner – We come back to find him still on the same couch, passed out, his limp body slumped over an empty liquor bottle. We ring and knock but our efforts are to no avail. Mind you the lobby is small, he sleeping a mere eight feet from us. I think the only thing that could have woken him was a cold bucket of water – and even that´s questionable. Finally a teenage boy emerges from the miniature door that leads to the crawlspace under the stairs and lets us in. I imagine jail would be comfortable than the dingy Harry Potter-esque room that he had just come from. Suffice to say we should have stayed at the first hostel. Note to self: Don´t let price dictate choice in third world countries.

The view from the second hostel…

5 am. We pack our rucksacks and go down to the lobby and wait to be picked up. Through Spanglish and charades style gestures we eventually communicate that we want to leave some bags at the hostel while we are trekking. We hand them to the house slave who lives under the stairs and silently sit in the lobby. I wonder what happened to the drunkard owner but I´m too tired to talk.

A van finally arrives after waiting half an hour, backpacks strapped to the roof and their owners snuggly sitting inside. Our driver navigates through the empty streets of Cusco and pulls up next to a giant luxury bus. Relief. We pile out of the cramped van and step into comfort on wheels. It´s early, but something doesn´t compute in my brain when I walk down the bus´aisle. Every seat is taken. I stand there confused for a few seconds, staring into the relaxed faces of the passengers, nestling into their cozy seats and looking back with eyes that say, ¨Oops. Did you think this bus was for you? Sorry sucker, go back to that tin can you call a vehicle with the other sardines.¨

Like a kid who just found out there is no Santa Claus, I retreat to our rickety van and wedge into a seat, sandwiched between Mike and Bissente, our chef for the next week. On the bright side, Mike and I were last to be picked up, which meant we had the front seats and ergo the best view; a luxury when winding around mountain roads. Halfway through the trip the ¨fancy¨ bus breaks down and its passengers have to wait hours for repairs. I later learn that the fuel line broke and someone had to hold it for the remainder of the trip.

After three hours of stunning views and some of the most terrifying driving I have ever witnessed, backs cramping and legs asleep, we are let off at a small restaurant for breakfast. We eat some of the worst scrambled eggs we have ever tasted while watching a baby eat spaghetti off the floor.

Not knowing what the bathroom situation will be for the next five days, I take a few minutes to make sure I have an empty stomach. Our guide suggests we be on the watch for snakes, so I immediately purchase a walking stick from a sweet little Peruvian lady.

After a quick round of ice breakers and introductions, we start our walk and it is surprisingly difficult just walking through town. The terrain isn´t challenging but the high altitude quickly leaves me out of breath. Almost instantly, our group spreads out with a Polish couple practically running up ahead and smokers lagging in back.

A few minutes into the hike Washington, our guide, stops to show us our first attraction. He pulls a worm off of a cactus, squishes it with his fingers and demonstrates how the mashed up paste is used to make lipstick. Cool. I think he is going to teach us a lot of cool facts about Peruvian flora and fauna, but for the remainder of our hike he mostly points out fruits that enduce hallucination.

Everything is going well. I feel good. Pack mules carry our big packs so hiking with only a day pack is easy. Two hours into the hike I am walking up a steep ascent when everyone stops. I look ahead to see what´s the hold up and immediately spot the black body of a snake against the earth´s tan soil. Immediately I am hit with anxiety but calm down once our guide shows us it is dead. Someone had killed it by driving the tip of their walking stick through its head. I´m infinitely happy I bought the walking stick. It is a Peruvian superstition that if you see a snake you must kill it. If you don´t it might eventually kill a family member. I am thoroughly relieved we didn´t cross it alive. It is a viper, which is poisonous deadly. Washington pulls out an empty water bottle and scoops up its lifeless body.

We learn that if you mix the dead body with alcohol and let it sit, oils are released that are used for medicinal purposes. The group moves on, but I let a few people pass me for an extra bumper in case we encounter another snake.

Break at a stand with a baby in a swing. The little girl was swinging the baby for a good fifteen minutes and it didn´t make so much as a peep.

In another few hours we stop for lunch next to a cliff that overlooks peaceful green mountains. At this point we also meet with rest of the group that was on the broken down bus. We devour our lunch of chicha, soup, rice and unidentifiable meats – a combination that becomes a trend for the remainder of the trek.

We continue on, walking past cows and bulls with menacing horns but they mean no harm and merely glance over before going back to grazing.

It starts to rain. We are at roughly 2000M of elevation, so needless to say – it´s freezing. I start to jog in an attempt to keep warm, but am out of breath after a minute. Rain drops pierce through my thin hiking pants, stinging my legs. I stop and wait for Mike under what appears to be a few loose 2×4´s thrown together to make a shelter only suitable for wild animals. I watch him in the distance for what appears to be the better part of an hour. Every ten minutes it seemed he would take a break, realize it´s raining and  pneumonia is unavoidable, then hurriedly start trekking again. Eventually he catches up and without stopping he says,  “I´m not waiting for you guys.”

After a few more bends and mountain passes we approach what appears to be a massive sprawling valley floor. Through the rain, mist and steam from my sweating body I can still see how entirely breathtaking it is. In another few kilometers we come upon a 5 star resort complete with a hot tub the size of a small swimming pool. From our vantage point we can see steam rising off the water and wrapping around beautiful looking women, a sight which we can only assume is a mirage. It wasn´t.

I long for a hot shower and a big meal and for a second consider pulling out a credit card for the accommodation, but instead keep walking to our tents for what seems like another ten hours.

Exhausted, Mike and I scramble to find a tent with a zipper that actually zips closed and will keep us insulated. After one night we realize we don´t even need to close the front zipper when sleeping in our The North Face Snowshoe sleeping bags. Everyday Mike would go to sleep wearing multiple layers and would wake up in the morning naked, covered in sweat. Needless to say, they are warm.

Mike passes out while I stroll the campsite and await dinner. It comes, it goes, I pass out.

Up next: Bring on Mount Salkantay