Trapped in an Ice Box, Huaraz

It's 6 o'clock in the morning. Ice clings to the blades of grass as we trudge on through the pre-dawn darkness. I still can't quite feel my toes, despite having been on the trail for well over an hour by now. The sun tediously begins to squeeze it's way down the rocky valley towards us, welcoming in the final few stanzas of our latest epilogue. Eight days of grime. It's been one hell of a slog. My breath tastes like grit & salty, charcoaled lamb. I almost vomit when I burp. My feet have been cut to pieces, defiantly rejecting any attempt of tape & plaster treatment. There's nothing left to do but accept the hammering. I thought my bowels had stabilised, yet for the second time today I find myself scrambling up the slopes for some kind of shelter before the storm. We're back to a 2 out of 10...that can't be good. Worst of all however, are my filthy clothes. I've only just realised that it's been since Latacunga more than a month ago, when I last washed them!! No wonder all those wild dogs have been following suspiciously close behind. Yet this place demands the filth, a rugged nature, a lack of dignity - you first see it on the perilous ice slopes, where no life roams bar a few hardy weather worn climbers with nothing to lose but their stationed pride. Domesticated animals learn to take what they can, when they can - circling wandering congregations like wary vultures. So it goes, the local indigenous populations survive much in the same way. They live a hard life, and their faces reveal that arduous journey. It wasn't too long ago when armed robbery & even murder was a common occurrence along this route, mostly in acts of desperation. I however, have no excuse for my abominable appearance...and to be honest, I couldn't actually care a less. Why wash in the Huayhuash?¿? I'm pretty sure that's what I've heard them say. All the bullshit of our "real" world has been left behind out here...in some kind of modern day time-warp. All the while I'm having the time of my life. No soap, no shower, no TV, no Internet, no roads, no rules - only dust, rivers, donkeys & the most remarkable snow capped mountain backdrop I have ever seen. I guess a loo with a view is the least I should pay...

Walking out to Llamac on the last day

Well over a week ago I was crashed out after the Santa Cruz Trek, lining my stomach for the awaiting epic to come. I killed two full days gathering bits & pieces like maps and socks, also tossing up whether I wanted to give the Huayhuash a crack solo or with an organised tour group. I'd never done a guided trip before, not one where I'd had donkeys carrying most of my food & gear anyway. It all felt a little foreign, but in the end probably worked out just as cheap. 400 soles for an 8 day all included circuit. I'd be living off that normally anyway!! Plus an extra 160 soles which went to the communities so they wouldn't hunt us down, and stab us in the night. That part seemed a bit corrupt...paying people off so they won't kill us. I wasn't game to test out their reactions. The grand ol' tour got the nod, so I put my name down & payed the deposit. Later, on my second siesta day, I'd arranged to meet back up with Goldilocks who had finally made his way up from the coast. It was good to see a friendly face once again. The BeakerDutchman had haunted me. We grabbed a feast, & talked tactics. Actually, I kind of just talked him into the adventure. It wasn't long before he'd signed himself up as well, and I had myself a new partner in crime. Stoked. What more, that night when I was wasting away the hours before bed with a mighty Scrubs marathon, Brisso made a reappearance fresh off the Santa Cruz Trek as well!! I'd tried to get in contact earlier on, but Internet duels make hard work of a rendezvous. Turns out he'd been pretty keen for the Huayhuash before, but got fucked around by a whole number of different companies and chose to bail. Now he was about to jump on a bus to Lima for the weekend. Well, he was...Ohhh buddy boy, I got him too!! Fifteen minutes before the office shut, he raced on down & gave his next week over to the will of our fun little excursion. This was gonna be sweet!!

The next morning we were off to an early start. Our mini-van picked Brisso & I up first, before calling on Goldilocks with our unexpected surprise new guest. We then pulled into some kind of gear shop/restaurant place, or so that's what it looked like from the outside. Everyone was rushing about on our arrival, munching on cake & frantically loading up the vehicle with gear. It turned out to be some Israeli infested hostel, where all our remaining team-members were hiding. Ahhh shit, we were sooo out numbered. They jumped aboard screaming uninterpretable profanities, juiced up on excitement & common tongue. There was nothing more we could do but laugh. I didn't understand a single word they were churning out. In fairness, they were all overly friendly. Maybe it was just a bit too early in the morning for my first Hebrew lesson. After a few hours drive we pulled into the small town of Chiquian, where the Israelis shot off to buy a lunch they all thought was provided for them. I had so many chocolate bars stashed away, that it wouldn't matter if the shops shut & the world ended. I waited patiently by the van & acquainted myself with Peruvian rural life. Once we finally got going again, the road quickly deteriorated into little more than a 4WD track. It winded its way through canyon lands, before popping out into open fielded valleys. The high ridge lines were capped with slick grey crags, once again reminiscent of many places in Tassies South-West. Our camp was layed out beside the main road. The guides set up two large food tents, while we got working on our own basic accommodations. I'm glad I took my own sleeping bag; like most of the equipment, the ones provided were barely satisfactory for such an environment. I guess you get what you pay for. Twitching with anticipation, the three of us Aussies took a quick hike up to the top of the ridge before dark. I was overly grateful that they were here. Not only did I have someone to talk to in English, but I had two strapping young lads with equally as much energy as I had. That was rare!! We sat up top for a while and watched the day fold into night, before walking back to enjoy many a cup of hot coca tea and our guide-cooked dinners.

Valley of first nights camp

After a freeeeezing cold night, the first real day of walking had finally arrived. I'd had the Huayhuash Circuit on the top of my to-do list for the better part of three years now, and it was a little surreal to believe I was actually here. Breakfast was quickly devoured, and our icy tents packed away - up the pass we bounded. I'd ran into a local lady the day before, who apparently cleaned the toilets at the site, and she'd been kind enough to point out the route for me. With this inside knowledge, there was no stopping us powering off ahead. The climb wasn't all that bad in the early morning shadow, and it wasn't long before we had a towering view over the area surrounding Gasha Punta. There was a strange red-tinged river spreading out in the valley below, and massive cliffs bounding us in on either side. To my disbelief, we soon discovered that some of the Israelis had hired horses to ride for most of the trip!! Not long after the pass, they saddled up and galloped off down the dirt path. What a shit. I hate the things. I've always held this grudge, ever since my first girlfriend chose to clean stables & pony crap, in place of making out with me when I took her out on our one and only romantic date to the Hobart Show, back when I was a mere sprouter. Actually, this other time I went to visit the same girl at her house, far away on some farm. The darn horses had me hypnotised & before I realised what was happening, I was slumped over a live electric fence. What a bitch. Life has never been the same...and I am yet to mount one of those smelly beasts.

At lunch we made a make or break decision. We'd persuaded our guide into letting us fab-three venture off on our own little side trip, out to Laguna Mitococha; yet after a vague map inspection, had decided on an alternative route back to our second nights camp - a sneaky "short cut." You were a wise man Murphy; "whatever can go wrong, will go wrong." All started well; the lake was beautiful. We got our first real glimpse at the intimidating ice faces of some of the nearby peaks, and even stumbled upon a local guy net fishing in a small stream for trout. There was even a cute dog helping lead the way, who we nicknamed Toby (since it looked so much like Chelsea & Joel's dog) even though it was a girl. As happy as all this pristinity was making me, I began to get chronic stomach cramps. Three separate times I was forced to escape for a crap. It would just hit me all of a sudden, unexpectedly. We sussed out the plausibility of our "short-cut" & plotted our route. The plan was to hike up over this different & difficult ridge in front of us, to avoid a return via our lunch spot and a second climb over another pass. Practically straight-line mode. Yes, I should have known...this same practise has got me into trouble many a time before, but I was buzzed up from the spontaneity. How was I to know...??

Brisso & Goldilocks taking the "short-cut"

Well anyhow, that hill turned out to be a lot steeper than it looked. One foot in front of the other became a rhythm. The altitude was having its first effects on my stamina. The diarrhoea didn't help. BOOM!! Three-quarters of the way up I had to go...muy rapido!! Shit!! Pulling the toilet paper out from my backpack sent it rolling uncontrollably down the hill!! I was so tempted to just let it keep on rolling. Arrghhh...I chased it down, layed it out flat & perched myself quick-smart behind a large rock; just making it in time before I exploded. I was feeling pretty spent. We continued on despite, until we reached where we thought the track went back down on the other side. Not looking good. There were a few cairns spaced about, but nothing definitive. Worst of all, there seemed to be another small valley separating us from where we wanted to be. It was already 3 o'clock. We had to make the call. Goldilocks didn't seem to keen on stepping out any further into the unknown, and Brisso looked at me for answers. The last thing I wanted to do was put anyone in any further danger; the safe thing to do in the fading light was to trace our steps back to the main path & go the long way round. If we got caught in the dark on this cairned route, we'd be in big trouble. That's one thing about walking with others, one thing I'm not all that accustomed to. You fuck up on your own, and you can wear it. There is no one to answer to but yourself, and I feel I can always pull myself out of the shit no matter what. When others are relying on you for making those decisions, it's a different ball game. It was time to turn around. I found satisfaction in the incredible views as we made our way back down the slopes. The climb would be worth it despite.

Laguna Mitococha

There was not much talking to be had as first our energy faded, and not long after the light. We crossed over the pass on twilight, shades of pink dancing along the faces of silent mountains. Soon it was pitch black, and we were forced to walk by torch light. Barking dogs, chasing after Toby gave us a glimmer of camp approaching hope, yet they were simply strays living beside tiny, thatched dwellings. We'd been walking for a good 12 hours by the time we eventually hobbled into camp. Our guide wasn't too happy...I didn't care. Food was momentarily being served upon the boxed-table. Perfect timing!! Hen, one of the Israelis was rambling through a story about having a sex curse placed on him while in Central America by his ex-girlfriend. "I swear man, every time I was 20 seconds to condom, something would go wrong!! The chicks a witch!!" After dinner I swallowed a couple of gastro pills, and played a little comical charade myself to score some extra toilet paper, which probably made the situation with our guide unfavourably worse. Pants down, face pulsating with pain..."Hola amigos, necisito papel ahora!! Tuve un accidente!! Lo siento!!" It got the job done. While that paper lasted at least. I should have been an actor.

We were all pretty totalled the following morning. It was hard to get up out of the warm tent & sleeping bag. Thankfully, we were greeted by another dazzling blue skied morning. It appears as though the weather is perfect every day here!! We trekked around the lake till we reached a small community. A lamb was just being born at the passing of our passage. A positive omen?? Not for me...I farted & nearly shit myself. Arrghh man...this is embarrassing. There are people everywhere!! Where am I going to go?!! Fuck it. I jumped over a stone wall & slid down the bank, less than 15 meters from where my group was huddled. If this one got a rating, I'd give it a .5 out of 10. Holy shit, this was starting to get ridiculous. Ohhh no!! There was some on my shorts!! Deo, shower in a can?? Will have to do...there was a lake up ahead. No one could have stopped me ripping off my boots & top, and plonking down waist deep in the freezing glacial water to clean my arse. Brisso was even less subtle. He dove straight in!! Twice!! That was asking for trouble.

Cleaning up...

After the eventful morning we continued to climb to the top of the mirador. Behind us lay an amazing panorama of shimmering lakes & white peaks. If anything could have soothed my soul it was this. Arguably the best views of the entire trek. There was a lady at the top of the pass selling Coca Cola!! I had no idea where she'd come from, but I wasn't agreeing with her using her young daughter as a sympathy sell point to her potential buyers. I brought a coke despite & relaxed back into my bag while everyone else ate lunch. I couldn't have kept it down. A few more hours had us arriving early at Huayhuash camp, sharing the site with a party of arrogant Italian climbers. It's not hard to say hello. Hefty "hardcore" wankers. Early night. Revive, survive.

Ciula Punta Mirador

A rotten way to wake up in the morning: - dump layed out on the floor boards. Someone ain't no sharp shooter. I'd rather go behind a tree. Except, there were no trees hey...lucky the gut was feeling a bit better. Today was an easy day; up over a small pass and back down to a large island punctured lake, where there were nearby hot thermal springs in which we could bathe away the daylight hours. One annoying factor about walking up front ahead of the pack were the checkpoints. These were the places where we had to pay to pass. Our guide had taken all our "protection" money at the start of the trip, so when ever us fab-three would push far ahead, we'd end up sitting about at manned gates for a good half hour or more waiting for the rest of the group to catch up. It got a bit ridiculous at times, and no one seemed to know our guide. Maybe he was some rouge tourist trader.

Now that I was feeling superb, Brisso hit rock bottom. I knew diving in that lake was a bad idea. The 5th day was supposed to be the toughest, with a high pass around 5000m & an optional but unmissable side trip up the San Antonio Mirador. I felt for him. Goldilocks & I led the charge, running away from those repulsive horses that kept following close behind us laden with Israeli. It wasn't long before we'd reached the top. Toby, faithfully by our side. To our right shone an immaculate glacial wall, which appeared close enough to reach out and touch. In front of us beamed the southern peaks of the Cordillera, standing proud & stubborn. Red-rock desert like columns made for a stark landscape variation as we descended steeply down the other side. We took lunch low in the valley, placed at the foot of a slope, peering up at the gruelling climb yet to come. As the donkeys wandered on by, loaded up with all our spoils, we made the break & darted across the open plains. It was a long way to the top. Reality kicked in on the approach. I chose not to look up, just to keep on keeping on. One foot in front of the other. An unfailable match-winning method. To begin with, it wasn't actually all that bad; a half decent track had been worked into the loose soil. Then I found a spot to stash the bulk of my backpack, and made like Superman. The weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders, and I found myself bounding up the hill. It wasn't until the final push that I really began to struggle again. The air grew thin, and my leg muscles seemed to fall asleep. I found myself a landmark & pushed forward until I reached it. Only then could I rest. If I continued on past, I'd earn myself a few bonus bragging points. Almost there now. The bunny-eared rocks were insight & locked on, one final haul would do it. I couldn't help belt out a "hoot" once I popped out over the lip!! What a view!! They just kept getting better!! A realisation of where I was, finally began to sink in. The setting of mountain climbings most infamous chronicle. Somewhere far off in this valley was the base camp where Simon Yates & Joe Simpson set off on their catastrophic, yet ultimately successful accent of Siula Grande's west face. 'Touching the Void,' had been one of my all time favourite books. Now I could piece together all the pieces of the puzzle, once and for all. For me, this was the highlight. I spent over two hours up there, admiring the changing cloud patterns & spotting new characteristics of these immaculate mountains. I knew I would never be back here again. I had to soak it all in.

Stepping into the Void

That night I got served. I should have seen it coming. One of the tents had been busted open the previous day, and now the front zip wouldn't close up at all. Even though we were easily the first ones back at camp after the pass, one member from each group had chose not to go up at all, and they had claimed the good gear for themselves in the mean time. Brisso was still in a pretty bad way, and wasn't keen to make himself any sicker. I didn't blame him. There was an 'emergency' two-man tent which they could set up, so I took a bullet for the team & spent a night freezing my arse off in an ice box. Lucky I had a good sleeping bag. The water bottle placed beside my head froze solid over night!! It must have been well below zero. That was definitely my worst sleep of the lot. I woke up pretty pissed & grumpy. A great state to be in when you wanna smash out another long & banal day. We followed river valleys walled in by canyon clad cliff-faces for the most part. The highlight was an indigenous woman with mangled teeth, asking Goldilocks for a Panadol.

That afternoon I cracked a Doctor Pepper can, that I'd been carrying with me the entire trip to celebrate six months on the road!! It felt well deserved. The sugar fix revitalised me. What also woke me up, was the Israelis getting their slaughter on. Even since early days, they'd been onto us about buying a sheep on the last night of our hike & cooking, then eating the entire thing. I didn't really think they were serious to be honest. All of a sudden, here was this sheep being dragged through camp at the end of a rope, kicking & struggling wildly. It was like he knew what was coming. In one quick motion, one of the donkey men sliced its throat with a sharpened blade, then pulled back its neck till it cracked & broke. As quick as that he was dead. Such is life. We all stared fascinated as the donkey man worked away at the carcass, pulling away the skin to reveal all the usable, tasteful meat. The woollen coat was hung out to dry, and the butchered sheep bled out before being stuffed into a hessian bag. It was a strange scenario, but also quite normal in the scheme of things. You probably shouldn't be eating meat in the first place if you can't stand the idea of where it comes from. I guess these lads would get their feast after all...

The sheep slaughter

Our last full day was surprisingly awesome. I thought we'd been past all the good shit. A quick climb led us onto an exposed ridge, with sweeping views across to the previously hidden western faces of the mountain range. Looking the other way, you could make out the southern peaks of the Cordillera Blanca far off in the distance. The pace was relaxed after the two previously tiresome outings, and there was plenty of time to take one last admiration of the breathtaking vistas. That nights camp, deep in the valley below was also easily the best. Snow-caps stood tall behind a turquoise laked foreground. Local women sat on the rivers edge & sold cokes & cerveza. There were actually a ton of other people hear, at least thirty or so, in a number of different groups. One lot from Belgium had been on the same route for two full weeks!! Old bones. Hahaha, in saying that; once we were all set up, us three amigos wandered on down to the small cascading waterfall near our camp and washed off in the icy water with cups full of rum. While I was making a little freezer box in the shallows so our bottle of coke wouldn't wash away, these old codgers clambered over to the pools for a dip. I swear I could have peeled their flesh away from their bodies as if it were wet tissue paper. There was no fat on them to speak of, only saggy sultana skin. One guy had a mad white beard that covered his whole face like Santa Claus. They just jumped right in that water, unflinching, unfussed about the cold. Over-sized children in the golden years of their life, enjoying every moment as if it were their last. I was truly surprised it wasn't...

Laguna Jahuacocha from mirador

Once we were slightly drunk, we retreated into our tent & smoked the last of Brissos ganja to top off one highly chilled out afternoon. Then there was only time to lay out until dinner came round, listening to my Ipod. A glorious finale to the hike I thought. However, I'd forgot about the feast!! The Israelis must have picked out I was stoned and were on to me about keeping it secret from them...farrrkk do I really look like that kind of guy?? Crack-heads are always clinging by me to hook 'em up. Anyway, the sheep. There was bucket loads of the stuff!! I'd seen the guides preparing it earlier in a traditional underground stone oven, similar I guess to the Maori hangi, with a blazing fire cranking above the soil, covered yet again with a towering dome of rocks. I hadn't chipped in for the buffet, but I was sure these guys weren't getting through it all. I felt like I was sitting in a dank cave, 10,000 years ago, watching gorillas make the most of their evolutionary oral cavity. Hercules, the Iron Israeli leant over towards me with an entire charcoaled leg - "wants??" Hahaha, I lost my shit. He really was looking primal. I took the leg gratefully and tried to find a chunk not burnt to blackness. Woahhh...there was a truck load of meat on this thing. I could only handle five or six gnawing's. It was so salty!! Quite the task to digest. How these guys were going at it, I have no idea. I guess their wallets, were warranting that. Feeling a little off again, I paid my curtsies & left our dinners dwelling.

Drinkin' golden rum in paradise

The 4 o'clock rise was treacherous. There was no way I'd woken up this early since I jumped on that plane to Mexico. I could still feel the sheep struggling to make it all the down into my stomach. Urrghh...what a morning. Our stroll out of the Huayhuash culminated in Llamac, the sleepy inbred capital of the Peruvian kingdom. Trust me, I know this kind of thing, I'm Tasmanian. "Black Bobs, Black Bobs." No one could actually speak, and their faces looked twisted & birthmarky. I hoped this bus came. There was no chance you were having me spend a night out here.

As it went, the bus did eventually roll through town. I was more than happy to pass out on the back seat & suck on Inca Kola all the way home. Ahhh, Huaraz. We meet again. What's it been now?? Three whole weeks, more or less?? I think it is time we parted ways my friend. I better get back on that long winding road south. Thanks for the good times. Happy days!!

The posse in Llamac

To all the the people I've travelled with...

...may the Lord continue to shine healthy rays of happiness down upon your bless-ed souls. 

Amen, Hallelujah.

Much ever lasting luvin'...
- Raw Dog.