Travel blog: Arequipa, Colca Canyon and the Sacred Valley

Monday, 11 Aug 2008 11:16

Rhian Nicholson has swapped the bright lights of London for a three month journey across South America from the Pacific to the Atlantic coast. Here is her ninth blog entry:

Travel into the old Inca heartland of central Peru and it's not long before a combination of altitude and more mummies, ruins and penas (traditional Andean evenings of food, music and dance) than you can throw a very large stick at start to do strange things to your brain.

We're talking Inca children sacrificed on Mount Ampato in a last ditch effort to appease the gods; crumbling Inca settlements set high in the stunning Sacred Valley; and indigenous people dressed in elaborate costumes twisting and twirling to the sounds of twangy guitars and panpipes.

Arequipa, Peru's second largest city nestles in the shadows of the three massive peaks of El Misti, Chacani and Pichu Pichu.

It is home to one of the most well-known Inca figures - Juanita the Ice Princess whose world tours in her frozen coffin make her the Madonna of the archaeological world (admittedly without the singing and dancing).

After 500 years buried in an icy grave she made her debut in the modern world in 1995, her face and body almost perfectly preserved by the ice and cold.

Centuries older and looking like grotesque china dolls with long matted hair atop their creamy skulls, the mummies of the Chaucilla cemetery are the stuff of children's bedtime fears.

Dressed in rags and sitting huddled in the foetal position (apparently to facilitate their rebirth in the afterlife) in pits-come-open graves and surrounded by bones, skulls and ceramic objects, they would certainly make an impressive army of extras in any horror film worth its salt.

If you're going to sacrifice yourself to the gods then whiling away your days in the colonial oasis that is the Santa Catalina monastery in Arequipa is a fate far better than death.

Its cobbled streets and spacious terracotta courtyards are more reminiscent of a four star holiday resort than a place of quasi-religious devotion.

Outside, the shops lining the photogenic Plaza des Armas certainly put temptation in your path with enough alpaca wool goods and silver jewellery to give your bank manager a coronary.

Well, a girl can never have too many scarves - even if you've only got one neck and have to fork out for another bag to carry them in...

You'd think therefore that leaving the bright lights of the city for the barren landscape of the Colca Canyon would give your debit card a well earned breather. How wrong can you be?! Driving through the earthy wilderness - where herds of llamas, alpacas and vicunas (all big fluffy sheep-like things with long legs - it's not that easy to tell them apart) indulge their suicidal impulses by darting in front of the tourist buses - it's nigh on impossible not to cast your eye over the local handicrafts sold by indigenous women on the roadside.

And who can really resist stripey alpaca socks (essential for those cold Andean nights), woolly hats with ear flaps in a rather fetching llama pattern (useful for those cold Andean winter days) and intricately stitched woven bags (they're just pretty...) Souvenir shopping should come with a health warning.

Rather disturbingly the locals dress up their small children in traditional clothes and bring along their pet alpacas adorned with brightly coloured earrings and woolly coats for the tourists to photograph for the princely sum of one sol (20p).

And it all works well until they lose their cuteness factor and are shipped off to the local restaurants where they end their days on the menu turisticas (the alpacas not the children that is).

If you're going to get fully into the Peruvian spirit then mastering the art of squelching coca leaves around your mouth (you don't chew apparently) is a must.

A staple of Andean life the locals seem to have a wad permanently wedged into one cheek, savouring the juices that ward off hunger, tiredness and crucially altitude sickness - rather helpful when you're at 4,900 metres!

Unfortunately they also taste like an old dirt-encrusted slipper - drinking the coca tea or simply floating in the local hot springs watching the sunset over the mountains is far more pleasant and does the job just as well.

And why go to all this effort? Well, Colca Canyon is the world's second deepest with tiny houses perching on its jagged rust-coloured sides and shadows blackening the valley floor.

Although a few Andean people have braved the rather barren conditions to make it their home, it's far more popular with the condors who swoop, glide and torment the tourists with the faint possibility of getting a decent photo.

This is great if you're a bird watching fan, otherwise standing round for two hours in the freezing cold offers little reward for a 05:30 start.

Meanwhile in Cuzco, the old heart of the Inca empire, you're unlikely to be in bed before 05:30 whether you're psyching yourself up for the Inca trail or celebrating having made it to the end.

Nowadays the city centre is a frenetic hive of tourist activity with the shops lining the picturesque Plaza des Armas and its surrounding cobbled streets flogging souvenirs, Machu Picchu daytrips, any piece of outdoor equipment you may possibly need for the Inca trail and more restaurants and bars than the average person has liver cells.

And with all the free drink offers on every night of the week you can safely assume that you'll lose a few over the course of a couple of nights appreciating all the city has to offer.

But its biggest draw is its proximity to the Sacred Valley - a breathtaking mesh of snow-capped mountains, terracotta slopes and pale yellow farmland cut through by the turquoise Rio Urubamba and packed with Inca ruins.

Perched above Cuzco is Saqsaywaman - known to non-Quechua speaking tourists as Sexy Woman - once a huge fort that staged one of the bloodiest battles between the Spanish and Manco Inca.

When the Inca Patachutec originally built Cuzco he intended it to be in the shape of a puma (one of the Inca's most sacred animals along with snakes and condors) with Saqsaywaman as its head. Unfortunately with the urban sprawl over the centuries the shape of the city now more closely resembles a squashed badger.

Snaking down the road past more market stalls selling yet more handicrafts made of yet more alpaca wool, the town of Pisac leaps into view on the valley floor, its central plaza groaning under the weight of souvenir stalls.

The highlight, however, is not just getting that silver pendant for half the asking price. A steep climb up from the town lies a group of ruins that offer a spectacular panoramic over the valley below (and which more than justifies the rasping sound coming from your lungs).

Back in its heyday it used to be the administrative centre for the surrounding villages with a functioning water system, religious buildings made of polished stone and rougher rustic style buildings for everyday use. These were definitely rooms with a view...

Last stop en route through the Sacred Valley is the market town of Ollantaytambo. Its llama shaped ruins cover the steep valley sides with rocks still left where they were abandoned centuries ago when the arrival of the Spanish disrupted construction of the fort.

Nowadays it's swarming with tourists making the most of creature comforts before starting the Inca trail at KM82.

And indeed you'll never fully appreciate just how good that final hot shower actually was until you are two days into the trek...

Rhian Nicholson

Article in travelbite.co.uk

Travel blog: Incas and more Part II

Thursday, 07 Aug 2008 15:07

Rhian Nicholson has swapped the bright lights of London for a three-month journey across South America from the Pacific to the Atlantic coast. Here is her eighth blog as she continues her trek along the Inca Trail:

The final ascent up to Dead Woman's Pass is the real killer: you're staggering like a 12-year-old after four sips of cider and you're prepared to sell your own mother in return for a donkey.

In fact you're so busy concentrating on your next footstep you forget to actually look around at the scenery which is practically criminal as the views down into the valley are nothing short of stunning.

Then suddenly, as if by magic, you find yourself with 20 steps to go before reaching the top and the chance to smugly laugh at all those people still struggling away below. In all, the climb is supposed to take a moderately fit person around four hours: I did it in under two-and-a-half but by god did I pay the price the next day.

The laws of physics dictate that what goes up must come down - but putting a one-and-a-half hour, knee-jarringly steep downhill stretch (which you have to complete to get to the night's campsite) immediately after an uphill slog is nothing short of sadistic.

You'd think downhill would be easier but one wrongly-placed foot and you'd be plunging down enough steps to comfortably break every bone in your body. By this time the sun's blazing and the water in your bottle seems to have all but evaporated so the sight of the night's campsite looming in front of you is more welcome than a winning lottery ticket.

And the scenery is breathtaking with the tree-clad peaks rearing up on all sides and the fluffy white clouds nestling in the turquoise sky.

Camping itself is never the best option for those of us with permanently cold extremities but as fate would have it after lugging god knows how many pairs of socks and warm clothes in preparation for the sub-zero temperatures, it seemed positively tropical - although that may have had something to do with the rather large amount of hot red wine that appeared at dinnertime.

Once again the next day came round all too quickly and after a quick two-minute contemplation of whether the bronzed colour of my skin was actually a fledgling suntan or ingrained dirt (it turned out to be the latter), it was time to brave the cold morning air and another hour's uphill slog via an Inca look-out point.

The third day involves a mere eight hours of trekking along narrow rocky jungle paths with sheer drops on the other side just to keep you on your toes.

Luckily the hard slog is broken up by various Inca ruins, where the chosen pilgrims of old could spiritually cleanse themselves in ritual baths en route to Machu Picchu. But that goal feels like a billon light years away at this point.

Rolling into camp at night there's the prospect of hot showers to magic away the dirt (priceless) and cold beer on hand to celebrate the fact you're still alive - just…

That feeling of jubilation quickly fades, especially when you have to get up at 3.30am and sit outside the final freezing cold check-point in the pitch black for an hour to secure your spot at the front of the herd.

Then suddenly the gates open and the stampede starts as every trekker attempts to make it to the Sun Gate in time to see the sun rise over Machu Picchu.

There's nothing quite like traipsing as fast as your weary legs will carry you in the early morning darkness and trying not to stumble over the rocks littering the trail which would send you headfirst to your death over the cliff edge.

After shuffling along like a lame penguin for 45 minutes with the light gradually starting to filter through, in a final twist there are then just 50 incredibly steep steps between you and the fist glimpse of Machu Picchu.

Originally the Inca trail was a pilgrimage for a handful of people to reach the most sacred city of the Inca empire- and you can quite imagine how they felt when they finally reached their goal.
Standing at the top of the Sun Gate with jelly legs, aching lungs and an overwhelming sense of relief coursing through your veins, you can't help but grin like a maniac.

At 6am the first busloads of tourists who shirked the Inca trail challenge and caught the train from Cuzco have yet to pour in and so the city is remarkably still in its mystical splendour.

Grey stone ruins, temples and grassy terraces are set majestically against the deep green of the surrounding peaks.

To say it is spectacular is not giving it the full credit it deserves: at the risk of sounding melodramatic it's one of those sights that will remain in your memory forever - and if you happen to develop amnesia the sixty billion photos you take will certainly help to remind you.

On the downside it understandably gets packed out with tourists and when they start swarming about like a plague of hungry locusts, it loses something of its sublime charm.

Walking round the city is pretty hard on your knackered legs - so many steps in such a small place - and then there are the llamas with that manic glint in their eyes to sidestep.

Plus being on top of a mountain and being in South America, the terraces end abruptly with dizzying, vertical drops. Surely a good few Incas must have met their maker after one glass of Chicha too many on a cold and misty night…

But still, when you've heaved your weary body to a prime sunbathing position in the middle of Machu Picchu and you're half dozing, half contemplating your surroundings it's hard to imagine many other places which would be worth four days of pushing your body beyond it's natural limits.

Without a doubt it's the highlight of a trip to South America.

Rhian Nicholson

Article in travelbite.co.uk

Travel blog: Incas and more Part I

Friday, 01 Aug 2008 09:18

Rhian Nicholson has swapped the bright lights of London for a three-month journey across South America from the Pacific to the Atlantic coast. Here is her seventh blog:

Following in the footsteps of the Incas is not an easy task. Initially the thought of covering a mere 33 kilometres over four days seems like a rather long walk in the park. However, throw in altitude, seemingly never-ending slopes and early morning starts and the reality is really rather gruelling.

You start bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and blister free at KM82 just down the road from Ollantaytambo, clutching your passport like it's an oil slicked eel - if you lose it your permit for the Inca trail disappears too.

So one strict passport control and a gaggle of women selling painted wooden walking sticks (the best five soles or one pound ever spent) and woven water bottle carriers (tacky but incredibly useful), you finally set a tentative foot on the legendary Inca trail.

To be fair it's a pretty easy start with a rock-strewn, fairly flat path taking you into the heart of the valley past grazing cows, tiny houses complete with roaming chickens and the odd electricity pylon that seems remarkably out of place.

Still, in the blazing sun it's not long until thirst kicks in and the sweat begins to pool on your brow. Then the uphill starts and before you know it you're traipsing along with your tongue hanging out in a rather unattractive manner, the altitude ripping the breath out of your body and a dull ache starting to plague your leg muscles.

At this point, three months preparation in the gym seems like it would have been time well spent. And if you need reminding of your abysmal fitness levels, the porters laden with 20kg packs containing gas stoves, tents and even a camping version of the kitchen sink bound past like energetic puppies.

How they manage to storm up the hills hour after hour is an incredible feat of human endurance - plus when they arrive at the campsite they proceed to put up your tent and guard your bags while you're still a distant speck on the horizon.

And for all their efforts as human donkeys they get paid peanuts - modern day slave labour is very much alive and kicking in South America.

On the plus side, their superhuman efforts leaves you free to concentrate on the essentials; putting one foot in front of the other and moaning about the lack of showers when you arrive into camp hot, sweaty and minging.

But the first day was a rather gentle introduction to what lay ahead. Rocking into camp after a mere five hours walking, desperate for water, covered in dust and with your hair matted with sweat, you're prepared to pay a large amount of money for a hot shower.

Unfortunately there aren't any: in fact the only running water is in the freezing cold stream nearby. And then there's the loos - the stench from them was bad enough to bring lunch back up into your throat even before they were frequented by people with 'stomach problems'.

Still the campsite itself was charmingly rustic with inquisitive donkeys grazing nearby and dirt paths leading to the huts where a handful of locals lived. And just to prove that the Andean people have a sense of humour, they called the tiny little shop selling water and chocolate the shopping centre.
With some much energy going out, you need an awful lot of food going in and the chef certainly didn't disappoint in producing carbohydrate-laden meals in sufficient quantities to feed an Olympic rowing team.

He also proved a dab hand at carving toucans out of aubergines. Being veggie there's only so much white rice, omelettes and pasta you can stomach but the chilli-stuffed potatoes would have had Gordon Ramsay purring like a kitten in front of a fire.

After a cold sleepless night, the 6am wake-up call was less than appreciated - and after a quick wet wipes wash it was time to gingerly climb back into the previous day's grime-encrusted clothes to face the toughest challenge of the whole trail: Dead Woman's Pass.

To say it's an uphill struggle would be a major understatement. At 7am it's freezing cold, your muscles have gone on strike and you have the prospect of a five hour trek up steep rocky paths staring you in the face.

At that point the urge to kidnap a donkey becomes almost irresistible. Still, somehow the basics of how to walk return to your numb legs and with your stick firmly grasped in your hand you start to make slow progress up the mountain, initially along gravely inclines with stunning views over the valley below.

Indeed taking photos every tenth step is a brilliant way to kid yourself that you don't really have the fitness level of a stoned couch potato.

Then just as you're getting into your stride, and your lungs become less likely to make a bid for freedom out of your rib cage, you hit the stone steps. And not just any steps.

These are irregularly shaped, some steep, some slippery and all contributing to the painful lactic acid build up in your legs. And they seem to go on forever. The guides tell you to zig zag across like the porters to save energy, although this just serves to increase the time it takes to reach what you think/hope/pray is the top.

In my expert trekking opinion (hmmmm), it was easier to bolt up the middle and deal with the burn later. Add to this the bitter cold and your body can't make up it's mind whether it's hot, cold or on the verge of collapse.

Indeed, the Inca trail seems to have a rather nasty way of playing with your mind: you think you've reached the top of one section only to turn the corner and find another steep stretch yawning out in front of you.

And the only way is up, meaning the altitude makes it harder and harder to keep the pace, or even to keep upright. All the way the stream of porters is steadily plodding along in front of you.

To be continued…

Article in travelbite.co.uk

Scientists discover new species of distinctive cloud-forest rodent

Published On Line - Physorg
Source: Field Museum

A strikingly unusual animal was recently discovered in the cloud-forests of Peru. The large rodent is about the size of a squirrel and looks a bit like one, except its closest relatives are spiny rats.

The nocturnal, climbing rodent is beautiful yet strange looking, with long dense fur, a broad blocky head, and thickly furred tail. A blackish crest of fur on the crown, nape and shoulders add to its distinctive appearance.

Isothrix barbarabrownae, as the new species has been named, is described in the current issue of Mastozoología Neotropical (Neotropical mammalogy), the principal mammalogy journal of South America. A color illustration of the bushy rodent graces the cover of the journal.

The authors of the study found the rodent in 1999 while conducting field research in Peru's Manu National Park and Biosphere Reserve Mountains in Southern Peru along the eastern slope of the Andes. Extending from lowland tropical forests in the Amazon Basin to open grasslands above the Andean tree line, Manu is home to more species of mammals and birds than any equivalently sized area in the world.

"Like other tropical mountain ranges, such as the Himalayas, Ruwenzoris, Virungas and Kinabalu, the Andes support a fantastic variety of habitats," said Bruce Patterson, MacArthur Curator of Mammals at The Field Museum. "These in turn support some of the richest faunas on the planet."

The nocturnal, climbing rodent is beautiful yet strange looking, with long dense fur, a broad blocky head, and thickly furred tail. A blackish crest of fur on the crown, nape and shoulders add to its distinctive appearance.

Isothrix barbarabrownae, as the new species has been named, is described in the current issue of Mastozoología Neotropical (Neotropical mammalogy), the principal mammalogy journal of South America. A color illustration of the bushy rodent graces the cover of the journal.

The authors of the study found the rodent in 1999 while conducting field research in Peru's Manu National Park and Biosphere Reserve Mountains in Southern Peru along the eastern slope of the Andes. Extending from lowland tropical forests in the Amazon Basin to open grasslands above the Andean tree line, Manu is home to more species of mammals and birds than any equivalently sized area in the world.

"Like other tropical mountain ranges, such as the Himalayas, Ruwenzoris, Virungas and Kinabalu, the Andes support a fantastic variety of habitats," said Bruce Patterson, MacArthur Curator of Mammals at The Field Museum. "These in turn support some of the richest faunas on the planet."

"The new species is not only a handsome novelty," Patterson said. "Preliminary DNA analyses suggest that its nearest relatives, all restricted to the lowlands, may have arisen from Andean ancestors. The newly discovered species casts a striking new light on the evolution of an entire group of arboreal rodents."

Article On Line