Final Arequipan Adventures

Pictures to be included after I find a computer that was made after 1957. Anyway.....

19,000. As in, feet. As in, feet above sea level. As in, I decided to try to climb a mountain with a summit at just over 19,000 feet. As in, the entire US only has one mtn higher than that. As in, bring it on.

Wait, didn't I have serious issues at only 15,000 feet last time I tangled with altitude? Yes, yes I did. My entire body committed a savage mutiny against me. So what made me think this time would be different? Well, nothing. I fully expected to get sick again and never reach the top. No sense in not being honest with myself about it. But mountains are for climbing and I was going to give this one everything I had.

So day one of hiking ends at base camp number one. Yeah, that's right, this mountain has base camps. You know where else there are base camps? Oh, just a little hill named Everest.*

There I am at base camp, which happened to be at 15,000 feet, my tent is all set up, it's starting to get dark, and dinner is almost ready. "You know what" is primed to hit the fan.

Just like last time, it began with the headache. Then, I was unable to finish dinner because the nausea set in. Finally, to make matters even less appealing, the sun disappeared. Along with it went every single degree of temperature. And then some.

I had been warned that it would be cold, but come on, I'm the guy who did Patagonia in the middle of winter. As prepared as I thought I was, it turns out that there is no perfect way to prepare for subzero temperatures. Throw in some nasty harsh wind chill and I was effectively the coldest I have ever been in my life. Roll that in with the altitude sickness goodies I was experiencing, and it's safe to say I wasn't the happiest camper. I believe the phrase "biggest mistake ever" may have been uttered more than once.

To combat the elements both internal and external I resorted to my greatest weapon: the fetal position. Curled up in my sleeping bag, I was wishing for death, or sleep, whichever came quickest. Unfortunately both did quite well at avoiding me. 

I think I had just lost consciousness when the 3 AM wakeup call came. Yes, 3 AM, because what else would I want to be doing that early in the morning? On the bright side, the nausea had subsided and the headache weakened, but it was still colder than the inside of a frozen cow. 

Two members of our party decided base camp was about as much altitude/climbing as they would like, so they stayed put. I promised them I would most likely be back to join them shortly as I was confident the altitude sickness would make a vengeful return after about another hundred feet. So, all bundled up with head lamps in place, our dwindling group set forth into the darkness. 

After several hours of climbing, and a beautiful sunrise, I was feeling surprisingly well. Looking down upon base camp, it seemed we had covered a good bit of ground, but why was the summit not getting any closer? Sigh. Onwards and upwards.

More hours and more elevation later, we were still going up hill at a slow pace, but my situation was headed downhill, and at a much quicker rate. My head had once again set back to throbbing and each step sent a wave of nausea surging through me. Just a little farther, I told myself. Hit that 17,000 foot mark, pat yourself on the back, and retreat. 

Reaching that point, I collapse. Oversimplified, I'm not doing well. The summit still seems so far off. And it's so steep. I think it's time to turn back. Others in the group would not make it today either. There is no shame in setting a new personal record. Besides, the higher I go, the worse I'll feel. It's not worth putting myself through more. But what if I stand up? And what if I just go a little farther? Improve that personal best just a little more with each step?

Something inside me picked me up and convinced me to push on, just a little more, just to see what happens. That's when I decided that I would just go until my legs refused to carry me any farther. Simple enough. Go until the body says stop. 

It said stop. My shaking legs dropped me several times. My head threatened to explode. My stomach warned that it was primed to evacuate all occupants. Laying on the side of that mountain, I had reached my limit, but no matter, because I had told myself that it would end like this. My mind had already accepted this. But hold on. Doesn't the top look a little closer? My heart was obviously a little slow accepting anything other than one thing: 19,000.

Up to this point, I had been telling myself that I didn't need to summit, that I would be proud of myself if I just put forth a solid effort. The whole trek I had been devising this metaphor about how mountains are like challenges in life and how it doesn't matter if we climb to the top of those problems as long as we do our best and so on and so forth. That's when I decided: screw metaphors.

I had come this far and now the truth was out there. I wanted this. I no longer cared about how poorly I felt or how unwilling my body was to cooperate. I was taking that summit.

The last couple hours cemented my suspicions that climbing that mountain classifies as one of the hardest things I've ever done. But I did do it. All 19,000 feet of it. Standing triumphantly at the top, looking over all I had conquered, I had one thought: I gotta get down before I poop myself. 

Thankfully, the going down was not only fast, but a good deal of fun as well. Sprinting and sliding down a super steep combination of volcanic sand and tiny rocks, it felt as if you were running on the moon. Crazy feeling. Almost made all the prior suffering worth it. Almost. 

But what truly did make it all worth it was witnessing the triumph of the human spirit and the magic of an individuals will power and blah blah blah bahahahaha! Forget all that nonsense. I climbed a 19,000 footer and I'm pumped about it. Next up: that Everest* bump.

* Yes, I realize that Mt Everest is over 28,000 feet, making it the tallest mountain in the world. Baby steps people, baby steps. 

How's about I make this a long one and include Colca Canyon adventures as well? Here goes...

After one day of rest and recovery from the mountain, I set forth in search of a canyon twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. No tour. No guide. Nobody but me. This is how I like to fly. Just go for it and see what happens. And that's exactly what I did. 

Surviving a six hour ride on a bus that no one over 5 foot had any business being on wasn't the worst thing in the world. Besides, I made it to my little pueblo along the rim of the canyon where I would begin my trek from. I knew all about the popular hiking routes and places where tourists liked to stay. I would have none of it. 

A local helped me plot a three day course, pointed out places I could stay, and warned me of some of the dangers. Perfect. Let's do this. And this I did. 

Day 1 took me down, down, down to the bottom of the canyon. Didn't see another soul until I rolled into the village I would be staying the night in. I say village, but six makeshift structures and 4 people was the entirety of it. Oh, but I'm pretty sure historians have got it all wrong, because the Garden of Eden is actually located in the bottom of a canyon in Peru. 

This place was seriously the definition of perfection. Not only could I swim in the river, relax in the hot springs, enjoy the million dollar view, and eat like a prince, but I got all this with my own little two bed bungalow for only ten bucks. 

Laying in my cozy bed in my hut made of bamboo and mud, listening to someone playing a peruvian harp, doves cooing, watching butterflies flirt with flowers, life was quite super. It crossed my mind that the only 
thing that could possibly make this scene any more innocent and serene was if a pile of kittens popped up on the bed next to me and did kitten things. Guess what happened next.

Five kittens popped up on the bed next to me and started doing kitten things. I'm totally serious. I had to literally laugh out loud at the absurdity of how perfect this place was. Ridiculous.

Day 2 was suppose to take me up the other side of the canyon and then back down to an oasis at the bottom again. I struggled with this. Here is where my desire for an "alternate" route got me in trouble.

All went well for a couple hours after kissing my Eden goodbye and then the rocks attacked. I'm not sure if you've ever been standing on a path, heard a rumbling noise, looked up and noticed you are in the direct path of a rockslide, but let me tell you, it's something to wet your shorts over. I'm sure I had the deer in the headlights look, but then I noticed how truly massive some of those boulders headed my way were, and the survival instinct kicked in. So I ran. 

Unfortunately it wasn't as simple as just running. I had to keep an eye on the path so I didn't fall off the steep edge, but there was also those rocks. Trying to forecast their path of destruction, deciding which ones to try and out run, and which ones to hit the brakes for was rather difficult. And terrifying.

I made it out with my life still intact. Obviously. A small distance later, I witnessed another rock slide block the path in front of me. At least I wasn't in the middle of that one, but now I was trapped.

That's when I had to get creative with my route. I was able to locate a heading for an old donkey trail that hadn't been used in quite some time. It was overgrown, stupid steep, and mildly dangerous, but I considered myself lucky every time I stepped in old donkey dung because that meant I was still going the right way. 

After far too much work under an incredibly hot sun, getting jumped by far too many cactus, and wondering if my water supply would hold out with this added detour, I finally made it up to another main trail. And how glorious it was. From this vantage point, I could see everywhere in the canyon that I had been, and where I needed to go. Also, it was a stunningly beautiful view. 

The rest of the trekking that day passed without much incident. But goodness gracious the Colca Canyon is a fantastic looking place. And I got to see every bit of it as I trekked up and out the final day. I crushed 4,000 vertical feet of straight up intensity in just two hours. The strong desire to get it over with before the sun was at full force propelled me the whole ascent.  

Well, those were my last adventures in the Arequipa area. Just a couple more days and team Electric Amazon Lovefest will be cruising through those jungle waters!

Finally, I want to thank my fantastic family in Arequipa. You are all so wonderful. Thank you so much for sharing your home, food, culture, and love. I will miss you all super mucho and hope to one day see you again. Te quiero y te extraño!

And lovsies to all!