Salsa and Trips in Peru

Janet Robertson

I was first attracted to Peru by a Joe Simpson article which described Peru as "a good place to go if you want some fun with your mountaineering". In our case however it was more a case of "if you want some mountaineering with your fun". Mr Simpson's article recommended acclimatising by dancing the night away at a high altitude night-club. We started gently at an altitude of 57 metres in Lima, progressing to "The Kamikaze" in Cuzco at 3336m. After a week in The Kamikaze, the excuse of "We're acclimatising" wore thin, so we set off to tackle the Inca Trail - a three to four day trek going up to around 4200m and finishing at the spectacular "Lost City of the Incas", Macchu Picchu.

After Cuzco, a one hour flight back to Lima and an eight hour luxury bus ride from Lima (£8, complete with glamorous hostesses and hot meals) took us to Huaraz, a small market town, which is rapidly becoming the "Chamonix" of South America. After a spot more "acclimatising" in El Tambo, we set of to climb Pisco (PD, 5752m). With many climbing and trekking agencies, and even a Mountain Guides Office, arranging climbing trips from Huaraz could not be easier. We hired a porter for $15 a day and set off in a local bus to Yungay from where you can get transport into the heart of the Huascaran National Park: the whole trip took around four hours and cost £2. From here, the first camp, at 4500m, is a three hour walk.

We set off for Pisco at some unearthly hour the next morning armed with thermals, fleeces, a duvet, spare fleeces and head-to-toe goretex. I thought it might be a bit chilly. In fact, it was beautifully sunny and warmer than at lower altitudes in the Alps. So sunny in fact that I developed a huge blister on the end of my nose where I had wiped off sunscreen by blowing it. We got to the top of Pisco in seven exhausting hours during which time we saw four other people. Bear in mind, this was the high season and that we were on the most frequently climbed route in the range. This gives you some idea of how uncrowded it is in the Cordillera Blanca! As this was the highest either of us had ever been, we rushed back to Huaraz to celebrate....

We decided to finish our trip by doing the four-day Santa Cruz trek, which we thought would be a nice stroll to finish our holiday. We took local buses to the tiny village of Cashapampa and hired "Donald" the donkey. Again, it was simplicity itself: we just got off the bus and said, "Has anyone got a donkey?" (in Spanish). An hour later we set off with Donald and a young donkey driver called Alan. For some reason, our stroll was beset by bad luck. On our first night Sue's MSR stove exploded in a ball of flames. Luckily, we were invited for tea by some of the hordes of climbers who were heading for the Alpamayo base camp. The next night heavy snow meant that we had to have Alan in the tent (Donald wouldn't fit) and we were kept awake all night by his smelly feet and constant coughing. He was obviously not well so the next day we sent him back home and sadly waved goodbye to Donald.

Wishing we had not brought as much gear and food, which we could not cook anyway, we set off up to the high pass of Punta Union (4750m). The views from here were the most beautiful I have ever seen. We began to descend to the final camp, but after a couple of hours I became ill with horrible pains and was sick all over my nice, new goretex boots. Rendered totally incapable of anything except groaning, Sue had to put me in my sleeping-bag before going to try and find a donkey to cart me off with. Quite a task in the middle of nowhere!

Sue surpassed herself, bringing me two horses, a porter and an incredibly handsome Peruvian mountain guide called Carlos. By now I actually felt a lot better but, as I quite fancied being rescued by Carlos, I pretended not to and was happily loaded onto a horse and taken to the final camp. Here we were fed a three-course meal and by the morning I was on my feet again and able to finish the trek. In four hours we reached the "road" and were given a lift back to Huaraz by our new friends. The six-hour bus journey was incredible, going right through the mountains on potholed, rubble roads which led to frequent stops to mend overstressed parts in the bus. But our bad luck continued - when we finally reached Huaraz we found that El Tambo was shut!

Reprinted from a 1995 newsletter