From Lima to the Cordillera Blanca

I spent my final day in Lima dragging my sneezy self through the city centre, before coughing my way through a night bus journey to Hauraz. There I booked a single room (as opposed to the usual dormitory bed), and hibernated until I felt the world was ready for me again. My room had a television, and Friends, The Big Bang Theory, Shrek 2, and various other on-screen joys became my best friends.

By the Wednesday I deemed myself fit enough to re-integrate into society. I joined a four day trek in the mountains and valleys of the Cordillera Blanca.

After the ease of my trek in south Peru, I didn't have any fears. However, days one and two proved surprisingly tiring. I wasn't quite sure why. Maybe because I had recently been ill, or maybe the trekkers around me were just fitter. The nights were very uncomfortable too, largely because I was squashed into a tent with two other guys, as if the cold and hard floor wasn't uncomfortable enough. Maybe I had just been spoilt on my previous fantastic trek. My previous trek was expensive, but this extra expense bought me a spacious tent, a great sleeping mat, insane amounts of ridiculously good food, two great guides, and plenty more. I had been spoilt, and this trek was highlighting that fact.

When I finally reached the highest peak halfway through day two, I was exhausted. The views finally began to come close to matching those from my previous trek though. We had reached a lovely snow-capped peak, and the valley we would descend down stretched far into the distance.

Half of our group made a decision on day three; Four Americans and one Spaniard were to speed ahead and finish the entire trek that day. Right from the start they set their pace, and a couple of Germans joined them in their initial haste. After an hour or so I found myself alone, and with a crossroads ahead of me I waited for the guide, our only guide, behind me. Once he caught up he informed me in broken English that we were not going the way to the end. This initial path had been a scenic detour, but we needed to turn back now. I was unsure how much of this the early pace setters had known, but the guide raced ahead to shout to the distant walkers.

Eventually five trekkers returned. I asked them where the two Germans were. They pointed in the direction of the hill they had just come from. "Do they know they need to come back?", I asked. "I think so", was the response. I wasn't so convinced. Eager to finish the trek that day, the four Americans and one Spaniard continued towards the correct distant valley. Meanwhile I waited for signs of the Germans, or our guide.

When our guide emerged from his high view point, I informed him that the Germans were still out there, but they were nowhere to be seen. Our guide therefore pointed out the way we needed to go and raced out into the hills to look for the Germans. There was nothing else I could do but head the right way with the two other remaining trekkers.

The views began to excel, and before long I found myself ahead and alone. My pace was good. I wondered if I would soon begin to catch up with the front pack, or at least find them with our chef eating lunch.

I walked through a sandy valley. I walked past a lagoon. I walked past trees, mountains, and increasingly great views. But I never reached a point to stop for lunch. Only then did I begin to wonder; were the front runners actually stopping for lunch today? Had our chef actually gone ahead to set up a lunch point? Where was I suppose to be? With the group now split in half, I suddenly realised I was the front runner of those spending the full four days on the trek. And I had been alone for a long time.

I eventually reached a campsite for a different tour company, and there I decided to stop. It wasn't far past midday, but I was hungry. On the previous day lunch had been around 1pm. I eventually backtracked a little and found a guide from another company with a couple of trekkers. I asked him if he knew where my company stopped for lunch. He asked me who my guide was. "Edgar", I replied. "I have heard about you!", said the guide. "You were suppose to wait at the lagoon for lunch, but you weren't there! Edgar has been looking for two Germans. They are lost. He is waiting for them at the lagoon!". I had past the lagoon a long time ago; There was no way I was going all the way back there. I was tired and hungry. I laid down on the grass, put my hat over my face, and decided to wait.

I don't know how long past. I sensed something had approached me. I must have been asleep. I uncovered my face to the sight of an inquisitive donkey wondering why I was sleeping on the grass. I sat up. The donkey began to sniff the contents of my bag. I had no food. If I did, it wouldn't have been for the donkey.

I had been waiting well over an hour before some familiar faces emerged. The remaining two unlost members of our group approached. They told me about the two lost Germans, but also that our campsite shouldn't be too far past the current one. I couldn't believe I'd almost trekked the full distance by little past midday. I had missed lunch though, and my energy was low. The final slog would not be pleasant.

I went ahead by myself to try and spot the camp, but after ten minutes I'd found nothing. I backtracked slightly to let the others meet me, and they were surprised it wasn't in sight. A guide from another company approached from behind, and so we enquired. He told us our camp was still an hour and a half away. My heart sank. I was starved. Luckily a couple of the trekkers from the new guide had some biscuits to spare, and before long I had enough energy to keep me going.

After half an hour of more walking our adopted guide and his food-giving tour group reached their own camp. We still had an hour to go. We were told our camp was beneath a waterfall.

Left foot.
Right foot.
Left foot.
Right foot.

"Waterfall!" shouted Olga from the forthcoming corner! I sped ahead.

Left foot.
Right foot.
Left foot.
Right foot.

"It's here!" I shouted back to Olga at the first sight of camp tents. And I was home.

It had been a hard day. I do not recommend skipping lunch on a trek. But more importantly, I actually enjoyed day three the most. The scenery was by far the best, and I had enjoyed speeding along by myself, and in a way, I had enjoyed the drama. Edgar and the Germans, I feared, were enjoying the day less so.

Only half an hour past until Edgar emerged from the trees. The Germans were not far behind. "What happened?" I asked them when they finally arrived. "How did Edgar find you?". "He didn't" they replied. "We weren't lost. We knew we had to turn back. We just went to see the hidden lagoon behind the hill". What an anti-climax, I thought. Maybe I had had the most exciting day after all. And to rounds things off, that night I slept really well. I had a tent all to myself.