From Arequipa to Ollantaytambo

Written by my Dad, Alec and Joffre's Grandpa Clint:

Arequipa, Peru, August 3rd, 2006

On July 17th, Cindy, Steven and I arrived in Arequipa. We were treated to a wonderful view of the sun rising over the Andes as we flew down from Lima. Melania had the boys up very early to meet our flight. As we climbed down from the plane, the sun was rising over El Misti behind us and glinting off the snow caps on the higher mountains to the north. Joffre was thrilled to see us, while Alec was a little unsure as to who we were. We had, at last, arrived in The White City about which we had heard so much. Our first impression beyond the airport was established by the taxi ride to the house. It was immediately apparent that driving here is a whole different game than at home. Throngs of trucks, taxis and private cars move quickly through narrow streets. And despite the fact that the city rivals Winnipeg in size, they do so without benefit of signage or any great number of traffic lights. Safe movement through intersections seems to be based on driver alertness and intuition rather than any established system or protocol.

Our first few days here we spent in Arequipa, visiting a few of the sights and restaurants downtown, and becoming acclimatized to the altitude, then we boarded a bus and headed off on an approximate repeat of the trip that the family had accomplished earlier with Aaron's parents and their friends, Ron and Verna. Melania had done considerable research during and after that trip, with the result that our adventure was fine-tuned to meet the needs of our little group. The itinerary, lodgings and pace were all carefully planned and tailored to our needs, interests and abilities. Many thanks go to Melania, and to the AQP agency for making the trip such a huge success.

So there we were, a group of five adventurers ranging in age from 1 to 53, aboard the upper level of a double-decker tour bus, making the 6.5 hour journey upward to the city of Puno on the shores of Lake Titicaca. Our first impression was that this was going to be a very comfortable trip. The drive up out of Arequipa offered terrific views of the city, and the arid country beyond was quite interesting, as the road followed switchbacks and curves around steep-sided valleys with irrigated fields in the bottoms far below.

After the first hour or so, a couple of things became apparent. The first was that the air quality on the bus was not particularly good. The second was that the on-board movies, theoretically provided for our entertainment, were going to screech out their soundtracks through a loud but garbled sound system, alternating between Spanish and English every few minutes, for the entire trip. Approximately half way there, the bus company was generous enough to provide each passenger with a supply of very dry crackers, and about 4 ounces of flat coke. Melania pointed out the place where their bus had broken down on the previous trip, and I found myself wishing that ours would do the same so that I could get out, breathe some fresh air, and be delivered from Monster-in-Law and Eight Below blaring at me unintelligibly through tinny speakers in various languages. We had cleverly packed all of our headache medication with our checked luggage, a faux-pas that we would not repeat, so by the time we reached the dusty city of Juliaca, I was not much good for anything. The drive from there to Puno across the Altiplano was flat and reasonably smooth, so I arrived there somewhat able to function, and we were able to get off that bus. From my perspective, that leg was the only uncomfortable part of the journey. From there on it just got better and better.

Our first guide, Aldo, met us at the bus station and had a driver take us to our hotel. The hotel was quite lovely. It is the Casa Andina, located downtown just off the square, and quite new. The service was excellent, and the rooms were very comfortable, boasting heaters, and excellent showers with lots of hot water. Once we had settled in we took a brief walk through the touristy part of town, and had supper in a cozy restaurant called 'The Balconies of Puno' on a narrow side street nearby. The balconies were quite tiny, but the pizza was passable and the alpaca excellent.

We were up early the next morning to enjoy a hearty buffet breakfast provided by the hotel. It featured a wide variety of options, including a very tasty alpaca ham. Aldo arrived with the driver to take us to the harbour, and we found ourselves boarding an older two-level passenger boat, which chugged slowly but cheerfully out onto the lake.

Puno forms a semi-circle around a bay on the shore of Lake Titicaca. From the water it appears as a gigantic amphitheater with the harbour in the centre foreground, and a rim of dry mountains around the back. The railway runs out from the base near the harbour, following the shore of the lake, and the narrow streets fan out steeply from the shore.

A short boat journey out into a larger bay brought us to the famous Islas Flotantes, home of the Uros people. Ever since Grade 9 Geography back in 1967, I had carried with me the image of this unlikely floating civilization on the very roof of the Earth, and I was quite excited to actually be there. The initial impression was truly enchanting. We arrived in the bright early morning sunlight, beating the rush of the day tourists, and stepped off to be greeted by Islanders in bright traditional costume. Although fishing is still a part of the lifestyle of the people, (trout imported from Canada being a predominant catch), catering to the throngs of global tourists has become the major industry. The revenue generated from performing for and selling souvenirs to the tourists has allowed the people to sustain some vestiges of their traditional lifestyle in the modern world. During our brief visit at one of the islands, the home of our boat captain, we learned more about the reeds that are used to build the boats, houses, and the very islands themselves, (the reeds can even be eaten, we tried a sample). We then walked around on the springy surface, bought souvenirs from the islanders, and visited one of the small homes. The experience was a joy for all of the senses. The feel of the island floating underfoot, the bright lighting, the appearance of the homes and boats, and the colourful appearance and sounds of the islanders themselves all combined to create an almost overwhelming sense of wonder. We rode a reed boat to another of the islands where our tour boat picked us up for the ride to Isla Taquile.

Our guide and our group were the only passengers on the little old boat, so we had the run of it. The driver and the captain were the only others aboard. The driver manned the wheel, an old car steering wheel, from a wooden chair at the front of the cabin while we moved through the reed beds that supply the Uros, then set the tiller and relaxed as we chugged slowly but steadily across the open lake clear of the bay. Once out on it properly we were truly impressed with the size of the lake, and with the brilliant colours of water and sky in contrast to the dry landscape of surrounding mountain tops. Such a large body of water at such a high altitude seemed so unlikely, even when experiencing it directly.

Slowly but surely, Isla Taquile loomed larger before us, and we arrived at a small dock on the north end of the island around mid-day. The island is a dry and rocky mountain top, 6 km in length, that rises some 240 metres from the surface of the lake and is completely covered with small terraces and pathways. Lonely Planet indicates that it is inhabited by some 2000 souls, a Quechua-speaking group unique unto themselves, and that it has been inhabited for many thousands of years. The face of the island seen as one approaches from the mainland is the steeper and less inhabited side. The main town and the villages are on the opposite face, and are obscured by the high central ridge.

Our path from the dock is one of the more gradual climbs, leading up along the east face of the island, but we still find it quite challenging due to the altitude, especially carrying two youngsters and our luggage. I find myself stopping frequently to enjoy the impressive views of the lake, or at least that is the excuse I use, but my heavy breathing betrays the real reason. In due time we climb a series of rock steps at the edge of the trail and arrive in the yard of Alexandrio and his family, where we will be staying the night. We are greeted by the extended family as we walk up past the kitchen and dining room through the yard to a separate building where we will be occupying rooms on the second level. The rooms are accessed from a small balcony that we reach by climbing more stairs to a cement patio that is the roof of the building below. The view is absolutely astounding. We look out over steep, terraced fields punctuated by tall Eucalyptus trees (imported from Australia few hundred years ago and found all over Peru). The lake and sky shimmer brightly in the clear, thin air, and mountaintops completely surround us at a distance. Those to the southeast in Bolivia gleam with bright snow cover. I have never been to the Mediterranean, and yet I find myself wanting to describe this place as having a Mediterranean feel.

The steep and rugged nature of the island's pathways leaves the people here with little need of wheels. We see the odd bicycle, but for the most part all travel is on foot, and all movement of materials is on the backs of the islanders.

As we settle into the rooms, we enjoy the company of two little girls from the host family who are dressed brightly in local costume, and intrigued by the presence of our little traveling companions. Once we have rested, deposited our luggage, and used the facilities, we head off again along the path to the town centre where the ever-patient Aldo awaits us at a local restaurant. We sit at an outdoor table under a canopy, and once again the views are outstanding. We enjoy a pleasant meal of soup and fish while the boys take great pleasure in the chickens strutting around underfoot. After lunch we visit the town square, which features a cooperative selling locally woven wool products, and head back along the trail to our quarters where Aldo once again awaits us.

Now during the past year I have been doing a fair amount of hiking at home. We live in real hiking country, and we were up to 25-40 km per week this spring, but at this altitude, and on this terrain, it is a whole different ball game. However, despite that, and despite my age and the fact that I am still feeling a little punkish from the bus ride the day before, I announce at lunch that I want to climb to the top of the island to watch the sunset over the lake. And so it is that Steven, Cindy, Aldo and myself leave the main trail just below the home of our host and head up the steep steps and terraces toward the summit.

I am winded in no time, and Aldo picks sprigs of a local mint, which we sniff to relax our breathing. Steven appears to have little trouble keeping up to Aldo, although he suggests that Also may have moved quite a lot more quickly if he were not waiting for the older members of the group. Cindy does quite well, and I puff along bringing up the rear. Eventually we achieve the top of the island and it is worth all of the effort.

The area at the top of the island is surprisingly small, and is surrounded by low stone walls and arches that pre-date the conquistadors. This area is used, Aldo informs us, for religious ceremonies that combine Christian and older traditions. Offerings are left here on special occasions. The view over the lake is fabulous in all directions. We sit against the west face of the ruins and watch the sun set over the reed beds and mountains to the west, and it is truly spectacular.

By the time we are ready to leave it is dark enough that we cannot go down the steep and rocky climb that we followed on the way up, so we must take a longer but safer path, back through the villages to the main square, then back along the path we followed earlier in the day. Part way down Cindy realizes that she has left her sunglasses on a rock where she was watching the sunset. We are far to tired to go back for them, so Steven suggests that she consider them her small offering on this special occasion. We have two small flashlights with us, purchased that morning at the harbour, as there is no electricity on the island, and we use them to find our way along. We encounter islanders of various ages, who move along briskly through the dark, with no apparent need of a lights. After what seems to me like a very long walk, we arrive back at our lodging. By this time I am completely exhausted, but am revived a good deal by hot tea and excellent soup provided by our hostess. During the night Steven feels the effects of the altitude and exertion in his chest, and has to utilize the cocoa candies that we have on hand in order to relax and get some sleep.

In the morning we are provided with a fine breakfast by our host family. They then demonstrate for us the local weaving techniques as well as adobe brick-making. Once this is done, and we have purchased some fine souvenirs from them, we take to the trail once again, making our way back to the town square once more, then up over he spine of the island, and down the long stairway down the landward side, through beautiful stone arches, to yet another small harbour, the main one, where our boat has spent the night. After considerable persuasion, the engine sputters to life, and we make the return journey to Puno.

The afternoon finds us back in Puno, where the Casa Andina provides us with a fine late lunch. We then spend some time in the town square, where Joffre and his Amma enjoy a ride in a bicycle rickshaw, and we spend some time visiting and negotiating with the local shoeshine boys. We return to the 'Balconies of Puno' for supper, then make an early night of it at the Casa Andina. Aldo will return shortly after 7 AM to provide one last service by delivering us to the train that will take us to Cuzco.

After having another fine breakfast at the Casa Andina, Aldo and the driver dropped us at the train station, and we said our goodbyes. We have arranged to ride the Andean Explorer from Puno to Cuzco. This is a world class train ride, some 10 hours in length, aboard coaches that have been retrofitted with comfortable chairs and tables, and a bar and observation coach, suggestive of luxurious train rides of a bygone era. Information on the ride is available at www.perurail.com and it has also been mentioned in Melania's blog in reference to her first trip to the area.

The train heads out of Puno, traveling in the bright morning light of high altitude, along the shore of Lake Titicaca, the across the flat Altiplano to Juliaca, where the tracks carry us directly through the heart of a large market, where merchandise is on display on either side, and even between the rails. The crowd splits to let the train through and closes in over the tracks behind us. Once past Juliaca, we climb through high, arid farmland, and I marvel once again at the hearty nature of the people we pass by, going about their daily routine and eking out a living in this challenging environment.

We climb for the first half of the trip, and stop for 10 minutes at a tiny village near the summit of the pass, at an altitude in the neighbourhood of 4200 M above sea level. (in excess of 1400 feet). We then make the gradual decent into a beautiful valley, which becomes more verdant and prosperous as we go. Service and entertainment on the train are excellent. We are served a lovely 3 course dinner, listen to an excellent Peruvian quartet, and even are treated to a fashion show. The train arrives in Cuzco just after dark, and we are met by our 'transfer' from the company, a terrific young lady named Celia, with whom Melania is already acquainted from her previous trip. The train ride is a must for any railway buff, and I would highly recommend it to anyone touring the area. Unfortunately, we experience our fist bout of real illness in the trip, as Cindy has suffered from a stomach bug throughout, and has had to miss out on the meal and a good deal of the scenery. She is, however, determined that she will be able to press on the next day, so we are dropped off at our Cuzco Hotel.

The Hotel Cuzco Plaza 2 , where we will spend the 4th, 9th and 10th nights of our tour, is located just over one block off the main square in Cuzco, and is part of an old colonial mansion. Access from the street is gained through modern glass doors, fronted by the original massive wooden ones, with their large and ornate metal reinforcing hardware. The doors look out on a stone wall across the street. Many of the stone walls in the lower parts of the buildings in this part of town are remnants of the Inca buildings, and many more, such as this one, are examples of re-use of the stones. The hotel is delightful. The rooms, on two levels, open onto a pair of spacious and beautiful interior courtyards. The upper rooms are accessed by a grand stone staircase, with heavy stone arches as its entrances.

The upper rooms open onto an interior balcony, or promenade, supported by aging beamwork, and featuring a spindled rail and hand-hewn posts. The stonework around the courtyard is a rich golden-brown in colour, and the walls have been painted a yellow-ochre shade that effectively compliments the stonework. The last few feet of the upper arches still show some aging fresco work, pale and fading, against a white background. Roof tiles hang out over the upper edge of the promenade.

The courtyard was obviously open-air at one time, and much larger than it now is. It has been walled off on the side opposite the rooms, and roofed in with a metal framework, supporting glass panels and a safety mesh. Although it is no longer open air, the courtyard still catches the light beautifully, and is a lovely place to spend a little down time. It is furnished for relaxation as well as for the serving of breakfast. The two rooms that we occupy on our return visit open directly onto the breakfast area. These rooms are simple, high-ceilinged affairs, with comfortable beds, modern bathrooms, lots of warm blankets, and heaters provided.

The room that Cindy and I had the first night we stayed here was the farthest in on the upper level. It had within the room a main level with a bathroom and two single beds, and a staircase leading to a sky-lighted loft that housed a double bed.

We had a fairly leisurely morning the day after our arrival on the Andean Explorer. Cindy was feeling quite a bit better, and our next guide, Percy met us in the courtyard after breakfast. He ushered us out to a van, and the driver took us up a steep incline out of the city, giving us a great view of Cuzco, and heading out past the immense Inca ruin of Sacsayhuaman. We will spend a bit of time walking around this ruin when we return to Cuzco later in the week. The ruin offers spectacular views of the city, and is pretty spectacular in itself. The size of some of the stones is truly impressive, but the grand scale of the site in terms of sheer size is what really overwhelms the viewer.

A short distance from Cuzco, we stop at a farm/ weaving centre/ tourist centre that features live examples of all of the various camelids that inhabit the Andes. Once inside, we are able to move from pen to pen, and interact directly with llamas, alpaca,

A short distance further, and we begin our descent into the Sacred Valley. The views are truly spectacular. The morning light highlights the vast Inca terraces up the sides of the mountains. The steep slopes surround a flat and verdant valley floor, and the river winds through the towns and villages below. The town of Pisac spreads out below us, its market and church clearly visible, and the ruin towers above it on the far side. We descend into Pisac, spend an hour in the market, and have a pleasant lunch on the second floor of a small restaurant just off the edge of the market, recommended by our guide. Our driver picks us up, and we enjoy a scenic ride along the valley to the ancient Inca village of Ollantytambo.