Arriving back in Lima for the second time, but this time in winter and a major temp difference. This was the start of another tour I’d booked over 11 months, which amongst other sights included the four day Inca trek, and was the main reason for booking the tour. June is one of the best times to do the Inca trail as its dry season, (though very cold when the sun sets). In high insight I regretted booking a three week tour, a) it’s a an expensive way to see a pretty cheap country, b) I’ve come to love the independence of travelling alone. That said I came into my previous tour back in December ( Santiago to La Paz) with a similar less than positive attitude, and ended up having an amazing time with a great little crew of six. That last tour was aimed at 18-36 age bracket, and the accommodation was a more basic and we ate at pretty cheap places.

This tour was the level above, and turning up at the nice modern hotel in Miraflores, Lima with my backpack I felt a little out of place. I checked in and had a bit if down time to catch up with family on Skype. Sadly my grandmother passed away whilst I was trekking in the jungle in Colombia and her funeral was the next day. It’s been strange to be away for something like this, and hard not being able to be there for Mum and give her a big hug, and help with arrangements. Honestly I’ve not missed being at home for many things, save the birth of a couple of friends new babies, but this was another one of those times I just wanted to be back with the family.
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Next stop was Haunchaco after another nightbus from Huaraz. Annoyingly the bus got me in an hour early at five am so lost an hours sleep I was banking on, luckily my taxi took me to a hostel I was able to check straight into an empty dorm room and was back in bed asleep by six am. Haunchaco is a small beach surf resort less than half an hour from Peru’s come biggest city Trujillo. If you google image search the town it will come up with photos of the Caballito de totora, fishing boats made of reeds which are still used by fisherman but also tourist trips. My main purpose for a few days here was to relax and get some sun, and after a lazy start after some extra sleep I headed to the beach which was rammed with families. I think a lot of people thought before I started my trip I’d be spending half my time lounging on beaches, aside from Christmas Day in Vina del Mar this was the first time I’d actually sunbathed in the first five months!

The following morning what had been a quiet hostel burst into life with the arrival of about twenty Brazilian surfers who had come into town in advance of the longboard surf competition that was happening the next weekend. This should have been pretty good news for a single girl, but all they did for the next three days was make a lot of noise, go surfing for a few hours, sleep for a few hours, and repeated that routine three times a day. It was a fairly large competition with $30000 prize money, and one of the Brazilians who stayed in my hostel did win. I went for a wander in the morning and the change from Sunday to Monday was dramatic on the beach, much more tranquil. Unfortunately the hoards had left behind all their rubbish, something they are trying to address! Over the morning the beaches were raked and cleaned and there were signs all over town for a group litter pick up on the following Thursday in advance of the competition. I had a surf lesson that afternoon which was pretty good and I got up quite a few times. To the one side of the pier the waves were great for learners, and then the other side had the long breaks that the pros and experienced riders surfed. It was awesome watching the surfers ride these long waves with the sun setting with a mojito in hand.

Unfortunately my second two days the clouds came in as did a bit of rain so I didn’t have as much beach time as I’d planned. I took full advantage of the coast in other ways and had ceviche everyday, can’t get enough! All though one day I opted for the slightly more adventurous mixed seafood version…I’m pretty good with raw meat and fish, but the raw crab was a bit of a step too far! I met some really nice girls from Buenos Aires and Santiago and generally had a nice few quiet days mooching about, catching up on some correspondence and sleep!!

My next stop….and literally a stop….was Mancora which I arrived at after another night bus at five am. Only ten hours further up the coast much hotter and humid Mancora is a pure beach surf resort but unlike Huanchaco lacks any charm at all. Described by lonely planet as rustic…Boll****s! Full of shops selling “Mancora” branded T-shirts, hoards of young groups of travelling partygoers….maybe I was just fifteen years to old for this place, and maybe as the forty hours I had there were cloudy and drizzly I just didn’t fall in love with the place. I attempted another surf lesson, but the waves were ridiculous! We had to wait fifteen minutes before we could even broach the water and then every time I nearly got up was totally pounded and dragged along the bottom by a strong current. An hour and a half later, half drowned, cut feet and ankles I called it a day. It’s not put me off, but next time I see waves that look BIG, and very good surfers are struggling to ride I’m not going in! My second afternoon I bumped into the two girls from Santiago and their cousin. They completely shared my opinion of the place (and he was only twenty two so maybe it’s not an age thing and it is a dump!). We left the town late that night on a bus for Cuenca Ecuador.

Mancora is the first place I’ve not taken a single photo, and I’m sure some people will disagree with my opinion, but I have since met about five other people who have agreed with me! I also think its good to be underwhelmed and disappointed on occasion. I’ve seen and done so many unbelievable and amazing things it gets hard to appreciate things. A duff forty hours is a good wakeup call on how lucky I am to be doing and seeing all this!!

I left La Paz via plane for Lima for a night to recoup and plan the next segment of my trip. As I’m back in Lima later in the year I was not too concerned with using my time wisely and other than visiting the Huaca Pucllana ruins, a very good Pisco sour and some local market cerviche that was about the sum of my sight seeing/experience in Lima before I took a nightbus north to Huaraz.

Huaraz is the capital of the Ancash area, and the main city in the Cordillera Blanca region the second highest mountain range after the Himalyas. My initial plan was to go on three one day hikes, and as I arrived at 6am originally thought I’d be able to go out straight that day. Luckily (I’ll explain later) I’d slept particularly badly on the bus so decided against that and was able to check into my small hostel which was nearly empty as its low season and get my head down for a few hours. In the afternoon I had a bit of a wander and checked out the local food market with cows heads and guinea pigs amongst other delicacies. The guy that ran my hostel was a pretty amusing character who also ran a Pizzeria in town, that evening myself and a Brazilian chap who’d come in on the same bus as me had dinner there and a free shot of Coca spirit to help with the altitude. After La Paz I was wandering around Hauraz feeling pretty ok, and thought I must have had handle on the altitude…….

Next morning myself, the Brazilian chap and a Scottish lad who was working at the hostel were all collected by minibus at six am for a trek. After ten minutes the bus stopped and we were transferred into a pretty ropey looking car which we all thought was going to be a bit of a disaster but the driver turned out to be really interesting and funny. The first hour of the transfer was just along a normal road through smaller connecting towns and villages. We were driving through the valley between the cordillera Blanca and Negro and the early morning sun hitting the snow capped mountains made for some stunning vistas, our driver stopping in places so we could take photos. After we reached the town of Yungay we turned off and started to climb a very twisty track through small farming communities, it was very slow going and took longer than we had anticipated but passing through the rural landscape seeing families in traditional clothing made the journey interesting. After a further hour we reached the entrance to the Huascarán National Park. After paying our entry we continued on very slowly as the road cut through a steep valley and we climbed higher and higher. All of a sudden we were driving along side a aqua marine Laguna, which quite literally took our breath away, having stopped for a few photos we continued and reached a second blue lake. A further five minutes drive and we were finally at the start of the trek, now 9.30am and all ready at 3850 metres.

I’d already said that I thought I would be a bit slow with trekking at this height and I could not have underestimated that more! The Scottish chap had been in town for a few more days than both of us, and also a far more experienced hiker was off like a whippet, and within twenty minutes the Brazilian guy had moved out of my sight also. The first few km were not even really uphill but just to keep my breathing even was a mission. The landscape was beautiful, lush green pastures with very chilled out cows and on all sides snow capped mountains and waterfalls rushing down. Then came the first climb and when I saw how far up the mountain the Scot was I was thinking how on earth am I going to get this done. It was pretty hot so a changed into my shorts with literally no one else around to see. This first series of zigzags I was managing to walk for about a minute max before having to sit and catch my breath, on the plus side I took lots of photos whilst sat. The Brazilian guy was now at least twenty minutes ahead of me and had our big bottle of water, I had nearly drunk all my small bottle but was able to refill at a waterfall. Eventually I reached the top of that section to another plateaued pasture with more chilled cows.

On the other side of the plateau was a sheer black cliff and two the left I just caught the last glimpse of the red T-shirt of the Brazilian guy disappearing over another steep section. It was amazing how for the twenty minutes it took me to cross this flat section my breathing was completely fine, and then as soon as I started the second steep section I was complete floored again. By this point I was trying to get to fifty paces in before letting myself stop but half the time I couldn’t even manage that. I’d now been walking only for three hours, but that was the time to have expected to reach the final lake. I had no indication that this zigzag climb I was on was the final climb or not and as I STRUGGLED on had said to myself that if when I reach top of this bit and the lake was still further up I was simply not going to be able to make it. I don’t want to sound overdramatic about this, but I’ve never never felt anything like this, a complete inability just to walk a few steps!! As a reached the top of the final zag the aqua blue Laguna 69 came into view! I was so relieved I just stumbled to the edge and pretty much collapsed. This is why I mentioned it was lucky I was so tired the day before and hadn’t attempted a trek on day one, I think I would have point blank failed. The Brazilian guy had been there at least half an hour, and the Scot had actually had time to walk up to a higher point and back a further 1.5km. The laguna was at 4600 metres! I know I seem to have banged on a lot about heights lately from Bolivia etc, but just to put into perspective: highest mountain in the UK Ben Nevis 1344 metres, and probably the highest I’d been in Europe before skiing on the Grand Montt in L’Espace Killy at 3450. We had lunch by the lake and took plenty of photos, this is view I want to remember not just for its beauty but a sense of achievement too! We journeyed back down together and I was able to keep up, amazing what the effort of uphill does to you…going down was fine. We were really lucky as we had sun and blue skies all day, this being rainy season. I’ve since met some other people who’d been in a group of ten, and only three of them reached the Laguna so I don’t feel quite so pathetic! The drive back seemed to take even longer and we were all pretty beat. After showering we had a three course meal for £1.5 including grilled trout. The Brazilian guy left on the night bus and it was an early night for me.

Next morning I was at a tour office for 9am for a mountain bike ride, which should have been with two other punters but they didn’t show. So it was just me and my guide Charlie. I had assumed we’d be taken by agency transport to our starting point up in the Cordillera Negra, no. First we cycled through the town and the market where he bought various items for our packed lunches. Then we stopped and he started to dismantle out bikes next to a very battered estate car that was parked on an incline with a rock under the back tyre to keep it rolling back. There were already two ladies and a baby in the back seat, and I couldn’t see how our two bikes and us would fit in….we did plus another young lad. So that was six adults, a baby and two mountain bikes……I appreciated being told to sit in the front…and I hadn’t even called shotgun! We left Huaraz and started to climb the Negra side, loosing all the other passengers after half an hour. I’d all ready told Charlie that I’ve only been mountain biking three times, and as it was just the two of us he said he’d tailor the route to my ability. The guy who we took a lift with actually worked for a mobile phone company which had a signal pylon right at the very top of the hill, so we rode all the way with him to the summit. Normally the ride would start a bit lower down, so we “sort of” lucked out being able to go this bit higher and Charlie had never been before so the first section was an “adventure” as he put it for both of us! I also say top of the hill…that was still back up to 4000metres!

First five minutes on a dust track no problems, my bike wasn’t as amazing as La Paz death road, but it was still decent. Then it was time to go cross country into a field, on leaving the track I immediately went straight over the handle bars as I wasn’t used to having such a low bike and the bottom bracket axle caught the lip of the track as I crossed over. I landed in a heep, a little winded and embarrassed and in my usual style professed to being completely fine and we carried on. I was really glad for the gloves, helmet, and knee and elbow guards. On later examination I’ve got a massive bruise on my inner thigh, my left tit, broke a finger nail and a bump on my head to. For this first sector which he’d never done either, it was pretty hard as we dodged rocks, very tough tufts of grass, slightly boggy areas and then came upon an area we they were planting small trees and every metre were cereal sized box holes three foot deep. After a while with both of us nearly falling in the holes we had to walk a final five minutes to get back to the main road, unfortunately walking through the prickly grass tufts has given me the effect of razor rash on my legs. The next section was back on the hard road and I sped off assuming Charlie was behind me, I stopped after five minutes beside a family farming on a plot of land and waited…and waited. Still no Charlie, and then the families’ dogs descended on me barking, I sped off round the next bend with the dogs still chasing bricking it and grateful I did get that rabies jab. Having lost the dogs I saw Charlie up ahead who’d cut down through the last zigzag hence I hadn’t seen him. On the road he’d slipped on his peddle which had them badly whacked his ankle and he had a lump the size of an egg protruding. So less then half hour in we were doing pretty well between us!

Over the next four hours as we descended back to the town we traversed through and down fields, dirt tracks, stone paths, steep rocky streets, were chased by more dogs and passed by more farming families and I got to see rural peru first hand. I didn’t fall off again, but had several more near misses. From a biking perspective, having bragged about how awesome I thought I was at death road La Paz….this was a totally different ball game and way harder. The death road cycle itself is actually pretty easy and consistent and not really physically challenging. Whilst still downhill for the most parts this was far more technical and demanding on the body and I could really feel it. I think I improved a lot during the day understanding when I needed to be stood up and leaning back etc. I was glad I didn’t let my initial donkey move freak me out.

We stopped by a small families’ group of stone huts for our lunch. An elderly lady was herding some sheep outside and Charlie knew her mother who he thought would be inside. I felt slightly intrusive but the daughter (about sixty) showed us into the yard between the brick houses which was literally a pigsty and then into the house/room her mother was in. The smell was the first thing that hit me, down to the fact that in this small dark room was about thirty guinea pigs and six kittens, I could hardly see as it was so dark but in the corner of the room on a makeshift bed was her mother about eighty years old. She was tiny, and can now barely walk. I was unable to understand her, as she spoke Quechua not Spanish, but she invited us to spend the night at her house. At night the place work be freezing cold as they barely had panes in the window and huge gaps in the stone work. I gave her my biscuits and Charlie said he’d return with some basic medicine when he was there next. When we left I asked if I could leave some money for them, but he said where they were was so remote to shops that it wouldn’t be practical and its better to give things. I gave the rest of my lunch to the daughter and she shyly allowed to have a photo taken with me. We passed another family Charlie knew and he let the fifteen year old son have a cycle on his bike, and the two younger siblings let me photo them with Charlie. In Bolivia and Peru the traditional clothing and hats that a lot of women still wear has been really interesting and something I’d like to share a bit more but it’s very intrusive to take photos without asking and often my request is declined understandably.

From what I originally thought was just going to be a downhill bike ride, the day had turned out to be so much more. It was great being the only person, and I had whole day only speaking Spanish and Charlie was able to explain a lot if the Peruvian Quechuan culture to me. He also spoke Quechua which when we met people in the rural areas was necessary. The biking itself superseded my expectations both in difficulty and fun, and what I saw was far more interesting then just beautiful views across to the Cordillera Blanca. Definitely up there as one of my favourite days on my trip so far.

That evening I was getting another night bus down to the coast and as I didn’t have too much to do ended up helping the guy who ran my hostel along with some of his friends move a bar and a fridge from his restaurant which he’d had to close the night before as his lease was up. It was pretty surreal stood up in the back of a pick up truck holding a fridge from falling back driving up a hill in the city. After helping the Scot guy and I helped ourselves to the food that was from the restaurant and made a massive pizza….in attempt to put me in a food coma for my night bus!

Like some other places I’m gutted I only had two nights here, and if I continue to enjoy hiking or get more into biking or start climbing this would definitely be a location I’d come back to for a few weeks holidays in the future. There is four day trek in the area “the Santa Cruz”, which if you are a serious hiker coming through Peru must definitely be on your list. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve been so far for sure!