Sube la montana

Dia 12 del proyecto,
Cusco, Peru

The city of Cusco is roughly 3,300 meters above sea level, nestled comfortably in a valley. Albeit a very high valley. Most guide books recommend arriving a day or two early (and consuming copious amounts of coca tea) to acclimatize before trekking. I agree completely; if your trek only stays at 3,300 meters, one or two days is perfect. However, neither the official experts nor this trekker have solutions for dealing with the 1,300-meter (3,900-foot) climb in the first 25 kilometers (15 miles) of the Salkantay trail.

While the classic Inca trail is the most famous, it is one of seven main footpaths that lead into Machu Picchu. The Salkantay trail is one and is named for the mountain which supplied most of the city's water. Quecha lore says that during a bad drought, the ancient Incan king sent his two sons out to find water. The younger brother, named Salkantay, died and became the mountain. His older brother's tears for his death became the glacier peak.

It doesn't seem so tough when I type it. But it humbled this marathon-running San Franciscan.
The terrain was not particularly technical; it was just impossible to breathe normally. The gringos--a motley crew hailing from eight countries, speaking six languages and exhibiting varying degrees of fitness--were huffing and puffing up the mountain. No amount of coca tea could save us. The first 19 kilometers and 700 meters took place on day one. It seemed paltry compared to the 6 kilometers climb up 600 meters the next day. Salkantay was trying to kill us.

The oxygen deprivation is worth it. The Andes are truly incredible: spectacular views, deep valleys in between soaring peaks (some with glaciers), ice cold rivers and streams and terraced family farms complete with llamas, alpacas and other animals. Friendly Quecha locals whose Spanish was sometimes more spartan than mine. Not to mention good company; the sixteen gringos became fast friends, And we did make it to the base camp of Salkantay.

At the base camp, you could see the details of the glaciers. It was a beautiful but startling picture, as it was clear as to how far the glacier has receded. Many locals fear their mountain--the god-king Salkantay--is dying. It raised the subject of climate change and my attention went to my contribution. This project has quadrupled my carbon footprint. At the same time, my trek also brought much needed nuevo soles to a very poor region. How does one find the balance? Is that even possible? Or is it just a nagging piece of guilt in the back of your mind?

Once everyone had arrived, each person gave thanks to the mountain (three coca leaves left under a rock along with a personal wish or prayer). In that spirit, many thanks to Salkantay for safe passage and wishes to find solutions to the complex environmental issues.