My trekking companions, English David, Israeli David, Kobi and Tiffany (minus Bob, who took the picture).
Report Santa Cruz trek, part 2
Day two was a very long day, particularly because we made an underestimated side trip. To get an idea of the scenery in general, I let the pictures do the talking. In general, the days got successively easier, as we got used to the weight on our backs, I guess. Still, it kept hurting like hell in my lower neck and higher back. My physical condition was quite adequate – indeed David told me he didn´t know there were mountain goats in Belgium – but the pain from the backpack was torture. I am not sure yet if i will accompany the others on a next trek, but if I do, my stuff will be carried by a donkey (erroneously called monkey by one of the Walloon girls). I´ve been observing the donkies and must say they seem frequently overloaded, but if I go I will hire my own and will make sure no one else´s stuff is put on it, so that it has to carry a light freight. These animals are so wonderfully obedient, and I never witnessed their proverbial stubborness. When their arriero (the donkey driver) loads their cargo on them in the morning – not always very gently – they stand still, waiting patiently till the job is done.
On day three we reached our highest point, the Punta Union pass at 4750 meters, after a gruelling climb of three hours. After that it was downhill all the way. While mother nature called me and i was taking a crap in the wild, dozens of mosquitos made use of my defenseless position and invaded my pants. The same bastards were abundantly present at the campsite. I rubbed myself with some anti-mosquito poison – they were small enough to get in my tent – and was able to sleep after all.
For obvious environmental reasons, you are recommended to use toilets when they are available – which is at the campsites. They are indicated with the sign ´servicios hygienicos´, but that is wonderfully ironic, since these things are the most unhygienic things I´ve ever witnessed. I will not start to describe them here, though I should mention that next to the toilets on the third day´s campsite was the half decayed cadaver of a donkey, stinking like hell. Needless to say I dumped (as David calls it) somewhere else.
I never knew what a wonderful invention toilets are, and missed them a lot while trekking. Here, back in Huaraz, I can again safely use them. It is forbidden, however, to throw your toilet paper in them, as the Peruvian sewer system is not equipped to handle paper. So your dirty paper goes in the trashcan. Yuck.
Enough about toilets I guess. On the fourth and final day, we passed some small indigenous Qechua communities. Children kept appearing, asking for uno caramelo or dinero para estudiar. Even after the tenth time it is hard to refuse these children some nuts, some spare change, or the remainders of our food. Are they cuter than Belgian children, or am I all of a sudden softening up to them? Check the picture of the previous day and see if you could ignore them.
At our point of arrival we met a British company, apparently guys from the army. One of them had bought a guinea pig – a local specialty – and showed it to me, saying he was going to eat it. I was kind of depressed for some time, missing veggie friends around me (which I had not had a problem with till that point).
The busride back to Huaraz took us five hours. The first part was a dangerous climb and then descent along sharp bents – one of them called the Devil´s bent, where 30 people were killed last April. It would have scared the F out of me some time ago, but by now I know the Universe has other things in store for me than plunging me down into an abyss to a certain death. Above the window in the bus was a sticker saying ´Mi camino es seguro por que voy con Jesus´. Our American companions, though Christians, were not so sure and were visibly not at ease.
Back in Huaraz, we had a shower, of course, and then went out to eat. David found a 100 soles bill (about 25 euros) on the floor of the restaurant and that provided for two thirds of our dinner for six. Someone else had picked the restaurant and for the first time I ate in a non veg restaurant. My fear for lack of options was ungrounded however, and I am starting to believe that Peru is actually a better country for vegetarians and vegans than Belgium. The wonderful thing is you can order everything on the menu and still pay a tiny part of what you´d pay in Belgium. Wonderful!
