Planes, Trains and Automobiles

This final post comes to you from the LA airport. We left our hotel in Lima at 11 am on Friday and we'll all arrive at our respective homes around 12:30 am on Sunday. Yep, that's over 36 hours. Just sayin'....

So, lots of catching up to do. On Monday, we took an extraordinary train ride on the Andean Explorer, from Cucso to the crumbly, higgledy-piggledy, even-higher-altitude city of Puno. This tourist train evokes travel in the1920s, with fine wood and brass interiors. We were treated to two sets of live music and a demonstration on making Pisco sours.





The next day, Tuesday, we went on a tour of Lake Titicaca, the highest-altitude navigable lake in the world. When we were on the boat, it felt at times more like being on the ocean, with the Bolivian shore only vaguely visible. To put it in context, Titicaca is 25 times the area of Okanagan Lake. On the other hand, it's only one tenth the size of Lake Superior!

We visited two amazing sites that day. The first was the floating reed islands of the Uros people. In the 1300s and 1400s, the Uros, who had previously lived on the shores of the lake, moved onto their reed boats to escape domination (and taxation) by the Incan ruling class. Their boats evolved into floating islands -- more like large reed barges to my eyes. There are only about 1500 Uros people still living on about 80 islands now, and the projection is that their communal, island-based lifestyle will end in another 15 or 20 years. The "presidente" of the island we visited (18 residents) explained that, although everyone works together to maintain the island and their huts, if a family isn't pulling their weight, the other families will simply cut the island apart, effectively setting them adrift!






Although they still barter with other local people for food, tourism is one of the Uros' main sources of cash and it was clear that having 20 or so Gringos on their tiny island was a polished strategy. Much pressure to buy handicrafts, which worked on Frank.




The second stop of the day was Taquile Island, 2-1/2 hours by boat from Puno. This is a very traditional, communally-based agrarian community of about 2500 people. It was fascinating to learn from our very intelligent young guide about the cultural practices on the island, many of them pre-Columbian.





Interestingly, it's the men who knit beautiful hats and other textiles. The women are expert weavers. UNESCO has recognized the extraordinary skill of this community.

We had a simple, delicious lunch on the island. It turns out it was the first time the family had served lunch in their brand new "restaurant", and Dawn, who had lingered behind a bit, got to see a brief ceremony where the patriarch of the family offered beer to Pachamama (earth goddess) as thanks for a successful opening day.

It was a long day on a slow boat, but I doubt any of the three of us will ever forget it. What a privilege, especially visiting Taquile Island, where people felt genuinely welcoming. Our young guide offered a most astute summary of Peru's recent history on the long ride back, including the 80s era of guerrilla activity (remember the Shining Path?) and rampant political corruption that continues today.

By Wednesday, we were all glad to leave poor old Puno for a flight to Lima. The mid-afternoon traffic was terrifying. Frank and I agreed the taxi ride to our hotel was the most hair-raising one we've ever experienced. It's not often we're in a city of almost 9 million!

Not only is Lima really big, and congested with traffic, it's pretty gritty. Still, it had its charms. The area we were staying in was safe and had a lovely malecon and string of parks, crammed full of Limenos enjoying life.




Dinner that night was at a little street-front counter. Frank's and my bill for more food than we could eat came to $12!

On Thursday, Frank and I  parted company from Dawn for the day. Frank and I explored the rather-decrepit historic downtown: charm, decay and disorder side by side.






Frank and I watched the sun go down in what we thought was the downtown's prettiest (but still noisy and gritty) square, sipping pisco sours.

On our final day (was it really only yesterday??) Dawn explored an artsy, bohemian neighbourhood while Frank and I toured a 1500 year-old (pre-Incan) temple honouring the goddess of the sea, viewed by the Lima people as more powerful than the male sun god, because each night the sea consumes the sun, then gives birth to it each morning. How's that for an early feminist world view?

And now, we're at the end of our adventure: tired, full of half-processed thoughts and observations, even more aware of our privilege, I think (I hope we can hold on to that attitude), and still great amigos! Six more hours and we should all be home in our own beds...

Wendy, Frank and Dawn

Macchu Pichu Mountain and Other Adventures

Hi folks! Busy-ness, illness and, above all, third-world technology has made another blog post difficult. We're in Lima now, and are in sensory overload even though we've only been here for about five hours! More on that later, but for now, we're going back in time to the day after our trek ended. On October 9th, just for the fun of it, or because we are suckers for punishment, or because it was there, we hiked up Machu Picchu mountain. Please pay special attention to the altitude on the sign and the smiles on our faces. Also, Dad, see that ball cap Frank is wearing? It's yours. Frank christened it especially for you by wearing it to the top.



Machu Picchu mountain is the vantage point from which all the classic photos of Machu Picchu are taken.







The next day, because hiking five days in a row wasn't quite enough, we climbed up to the Incan granaries above Ollantaytambo. Dawn made us do it....







That night, it was time for the three amigos to let their hair down a little bit together. Our lodge made killer Pisco sours. This is me after only two of them. 50% is hamming it up but the other 50%...wow what a punch!


The next day, Saturday, it was back to the big city of Cusco. Going to the colourful San Pedro market and eating lunch there SEEMED like such a great idea!





Frank and Dawn we're fine, but I paid for it the next day. (Altitude sickness + extreeeeeme exercise + diarrhea = a sure-fire method for quick weight loss. But, hey, I'll take it!)

Here we are the following day, Sunday, at an animal sanctuary. I was pretty listless (see above comments about the "D" word...) but Dawn, especially, loved it. She says, after visiting, she's going vegetarian. Well, maybe. After Sue cooks her a steak dinner on Sunday.


Yep, that's a condor. I always thought they were a bird of prey, but no. Turns out they're a kind of vulture. A really huge mother of a vulture with a wing span of up to 10 feet. Huh.


Hair of the (hairless) dog that bit you?


On to the market at Pisac that same day where Dawn, especially, did some power shopping. (I wasn't doing power anything at that point...) Sue, there are many presents coming for you. MANY.






Don't you just love the dollhouse for the guinea pigs we saw in Pisac? They taste so much better when they're happy, isn't that the wisdom? BTW, we never ate any, despite much propaganda. Nutritious! Sustainable! Tastes just like chicken! But doing so would have made Dawn cry again, and hate us. And wow, wouldn't that have been awkward for the rest of the trip?

So: there's much more to write in order to catch up, but I want to post this before I have so many photos to upload that it makes the hotel's lights dim (that's only mild exaggeration). 

Sending warm thoughts,

Wendy, Dawn and Frank

Our Inca Trail Trek

We started our trek last Sunday and finished on Wednesday. It's taken several days to recover enough, both physically and mentally, to begin to make sense of its all.

We had a bit of a rough start. Last Sunday was election day across Peru. Because of mandatory voting, it was a chaotic scene, with many rural people from the highlands flooding the towns and cities where the polls were located.







Our porters and guides spent hours waiting to vote. As a consequence, we got to the trailhead SIX HOURS late!! It was almost 4 pm when our group of 8 hikers, plus our guide, passed the control gate.



We had a deceptively easy hike that first day, only 5 km. To avoid hiking in the dark, we made a makeshift camp in a farmyard. The roosters started crowing at 2:47 am, and the closest one was 5 feet from Frank's and my tent -- no (chicken) shit!!



The next two days were...well, we all agreed on the word "gruelling". 15 kms on Monday, and 16 kms on Tuesday. Not much sleep, plus extreme altitudes (over 14,000 feet at the highest point, Dead Woman's Pass) plus unbelievably steep inclines and declines, made for VERY long days.





Still: there was so much beauty, and surreal moments.









Even better, there was amazing camaraderie and encouragement in the group. We got to know one another well, in a pure kind of way. As our new friend Kelpna said, knowing all the facts about someone doesn't really matter much. It's learning about the best of each other's hearts and souls that matters. Here are Kelpna and her husband Padam, from Calgary.



The camping conditions were really rough. I don't see myself sleeping in a tiny tent, in a mummy sleeping bag, on a thermorest pad, any time soon again! Here's our last campsite. The tents were on a 12-foot-high terrace, with 18" between the front of the tent and the dropoff.



The food was amazing, though: 3 meals plus teatime every day. The cook, Nicholas, would bang around in the cook tent, barking out orders to the porters (5 of them) and thereby turning out 3-course dinners, a far cry from the trail food we imagined.



On the subject of the porters: it was a strange situation, a little too colonial feeling for most of us to be comfortable with it. The porters carried everything we needed for 4 days tents, etc., clothing, food, dining tables and stools, kitchenwares, on their backs, in huge packs, up and down the crazy-steep trails, at unbelievable speeds. This is a hard, hard, hard life: they spend most of the year away from their families; their bodies are prematurely wrecked, and they are looked at with scorn by much of the Peruvian population. Still, the trekking company we chose treats their porters well, and it is considered good employment for undereducated highland men who don't speak Spanish, only the indigenous language, Quechua.

The final day of the trek started at 3:15 am. The control gate opened at 5:30 and we trudged along, single file, mostly in silence for the first while.



This stretch, the so-called "Gringo killer", is so steep it's more ladder than steps:



We got to the Sun Gate around 8 am and were rewarded by that amazing, instantly-familiar view. Frank cried! A lot!





We were all giddy with relief, and sense of accomplishment:



What can I say about Macchu Picchu? It's all clichéd, and true: massive, brilliant, astounding, like a scene from Indiana Jones.







The llamas were a source of amusement and fascination, too:





After a tour of the site, and lunch together in the town at the base of the magical mountains, we said goodbye to our guide, Willy, and our fellow adventurers. Saying goodbye was hard. Enough said.

So, where are we now in our meaning making process? Dawn and I both agree it was the physics hardest thing we have ever done. Dawn says it was far harder than any other hike she's ever done, including the steepest trail in the Rockies (with Olivia, this summer) or 10 days in Kluane Park with a damaged knee ligament. I deemed it harder than childbirth. Harder than both of mine put together, in fact! Frank says it reminds him of the physical and mental fortitude required of iron working. And yet, none of us regrets doing it. Maybe the full impact still hasn't quite hit. But something amazing definitely happened. And so, Trish, to answer your question that I just wasn't able to answer the day after we ended: yes, overall, thumbs up.

Here's what I've been thankful for since the trek. Frank. Dawn. Good people who helped me do this. Real beds. Showers. Sleep. And clean toilets you sit down on instead of squatting over.

Happy Thanksgiving, dear ones.

Wendy, for Dawn and Frank