Three women crossing the 8 skies of Huayhuash
As part of a long journey through South America, my desire to explore Peru's breathtaking natural landscapes led to the decision to trek through the snowy mountains of the Cordillera Blanca, in the Huayhuash region near Cusco. This journey turned into an exciting eight-day adventure for my friends and me, filled with runaway donkeys, laughter in our tent, and long hours of walking amidst stunning scenery. How did we end up in the heart of Peru’s enchanting beauty?
Our journey began in Huaraz, a small city surrounded by glacier-capped mountains. This city, bustling with tourist agencies and a diverse mix of travelers, indigenous people, and locals, set the stage for our first adventure: a short trek through the Santa Cruz backpacking circuit in Huascaran National Park. Unprepared for the freezing temperatures, we shivered through our first trekking experience. Encountering trash left by other travelers dampened our spirits, but the incredible scenery and the company of twelve travelers from around the world made it worthwhile. It was during this trek that we met Fanny, our guide assistant, whose warm smile, knowledge of local plants, and adventurous spirit quickly made her a friend.
After completing the Santa Cruz trek, we visited Fanny again. She shared her extensive knowledge of the famous Huayhuash trek, which she learned from her father, a pioneer of the route. Her enthusiasm to guide us through this terrain reignited our sense of adventure. Fanny also emphasized the importance of keeping the trails pristine and traveling sustainably, which inspired us to prepare with minimal plastic. This would be Fanny’s first time as the main guide and donkey porter, but her expertise reassured us.
Day 1
The next day, with little sleep and a lot of baggage, we made our way to the tiny village of Llamac, Fanny’s hometown, to get our donkeys and start our trek. With some help from her family, Fanny loaded the three donkeys, marked with bright orange spray for easy recognition. As we embarked on our journey at 1:40 pm, we left with smiles and clean shoes. After five hours of navigating curvy canyon roads and two overpasses, we reached the campsite of Matachanca. With the help of the jovial Jiovanna, Fanny’s sheep-herding sister, we set up the tent in the dark. We constructed a little kitchen under a tarp connected to our tent and felt warm and cozy under its cover. Our first night was filled with pasta, silly laughter, and the cold night air, but we felt fresh and happy.
Day 2
On the second day, we woke up to Fanny’s exclamation: “And my donkeys??” The donkeys had pulled a disappearing act, one of many to come. While we prepared breakfast, Fanny went to search for them. We set off with the chastised donkeys at 9:30 am, our tummies pleasantly full of banana pancakes. We passed through two camps that day, including the flat land of Mitucocha, and after a long uphill climb, we reached the turquoise and jade glistening Laguna of Carhuacocha at 6 pm. We made friends with a little local boy who showed us a pretty bird and gave some natural medicine to a mother with a toothache.
Day 3
At dawn, we woke up to the golden sun on the snowy mountains, reflecting like a prism on the clear Laguna—a vision of fire on ice. We set off at 9 am and walked up to the windy overpass of Siula, a snow-covered mountain at 4,800 meters altitude (Siu means the wind is blowing and whistling). Along the way, we stopped at what looked like a huge human-sized Japanese garden, the Champas, where we played and jumped around with childlike exuberance, excited by the green haven amidst rocky mountain paths. We passed two turquoise sister lagoons, enjoyed the blue vision, and reached the campsite at 4:30 pm, tired and satisfied with the day. We cooked and then arranged ourselves and our belongings in the tent, as close together as space would allow for warmth.
Day 4
Our fourth day was full of anticipation: we were en route to the camp of Viconga, where hot springs awaited our sore and dirty muscles. We walked alongside the enormous green Viconga Lagoon, whose middle resembled a bird resting upon its wings. Close to the camp, we passed through white gushing waterfalls—strong, steady, and wild all at once. We arrived at the camp, set up our tent, and ran to the water, dipping our bodies into the heat and ridding ourselves of days of dirt, soreness, and stress. We emerged red-faced and renewed. At night, we sat outside in front of a warm fire, sipping delicious hot tea and warming our bodies and minds, watching the moon, laughing, and feeling on top of the world.
Day 5
Our fifth day was strenuous. We left at 8 am and climbed up to the point of Cuyoc at 5,000 meters, a long and windy ascent. On the way down, the path was so slippery that we had to slide on our butts for a third of the way, getting dirt and rocks all over our clothes and bodies. After descending, tired and sweaty, another 2.5-hour climb awaited us to the observation point of San Antonio—a steep high grass hill, through rocks and riverbed, and finally through pure dirt that seemed to sink our feet deep into the earth! But the incredible glaciers and blue lagoons with 360-degree views from the top restored all our energy. We were awed by the vast beauty of this picturesque land. We walked back down and started towards our camp. In the light of the moon, we ate a small but hearty dinner and felt fortunate to be there, connected to the land that surrounded us.
Day 6
On the sixth day, we left at 9 am and ventured down a long, slippery slope, passing through one of the many controls run by local villagers charging tourists to pass through their lands. After an arduous uphill walk, we reached the camp of Huatiac. Sitting and resting, happy to arrive early and eating canned tuna and bread, we were startled by a strange man walking toward us from the other side of the Pampa. He kept glancing back at us as he advanced uphill, leaving us feeling unsettled and suspicious. We were looking forward to our friends arriving, as we felt unsafe for the first time on the trip. We did not rest well that night but were happy to see the light of day safe and sound and to see our friends who arrived at dawn and camped next to us.
Days 7 and 8
In the morning, accustomed to Fanny’s usual call for the donkeys, we were surprised to find they were completely gone. We spread out to search for them but found nothing for three hours. Frustrated and concerned, we knew we couldn’t hire other donkeys or leave without them, as they were loaned to us with full confidence. Finally, after much walking, we found them high above the camp. We started our walk at 11 am to the next camp. We had a long journey ahead with two overpasses: Tapush (at 4,800 meters) and Yauche (also at 4,800 meters). We fell a dozen times going down their dirt paths and arrived at Jahuachocha, our last camp, at 5:30 pm, exhausted. That night, after some warm tea, we were ready for our last trekking day. In the morning, we decided to stick around a bit longer and walked to the nearby Laguna Solteracocha. We then walked to the nearest glacier, marveling at the view of cavernous ice surrounded by colorful rocks. That was the first time we saw an avalanche, a sight too magnificent to believe—a huge mass of ice sliding down the mountain accompanied by the sound of a falling giant! The sight and sound made our hearts beat faster and louder. After that, we made our way back to the camp, packed up, and started a long climb toward the village of Llamac, our starting and ending point. We arrived at Llamac tired, with swollen feet, beyond dirty, hungry, and completely satisfied with our eight-day experience. That night, as we slept soundly, our ears still rang with the sound of avalanches, and our dreams were filled with snowcapped mountains, champas, uphill climbs, and camp food. In conclusion? All worth it.