19th November 2023
After all the drama of Machu Picchu and the train ride back to Cusco, it felt like my scheduled trip to Lake Humantay, at the foot of Humantay Mountain was destined to be an anti-climax. Wrong again. It turned out to be one of the most rewarding trips of all.
I was ready and waiting in the Rumi Punku hotel's manorial hall breakfast room when the tour guide arrived. Another guest, an Englishman, was quietly waiting for his tour of Machu Picchu that day and we both had a coca tea while we waited. When the tour guide entered the hall and said 'Jonathan?', we both said yes. What are the chances; the Englishman was a Jonathan too.
The guide's name was Hilton, and he said straight away he was no relation to Paris or Conrad. He was a smallish man with a round face, and he said he was as pure a descendent of the Incans that you can get. His family spoke the Incan dialect at home. He had a profound sense and knowledge ot the Incan heritage, its beliefs and religious practices. Many times during the day, we could sense HIS sense of place, his connection with the landscape. Like our own first nations people, he read it in a specific way and could listen to his ancestors in its features and changing moods.
The driver was Friendly Frank, a young Peruvian with Australian connections, who smiled and high-fived and fist-bumped a lot and said 'JONATTAN!' cheerfully whenever he saw me during the day. His girlfriend came along for the day and she was sweet, very helpful, knew English and knew how to handle horses. We picked up the other trekkers, mostly young people, a contingent of Italians wearing Peruvian capes, some Latin Americans, a young Japanese family, and a middle aged Mexican couple.
We made our way up and out of Cusco, and through the gritty, harsh looking suburbs on the outskirts, where I snapped a pic of this family looking like they were heading off to work for the day.
After a while we were back in the Sacred Valley and soon after, climbing steadily on narrow, dusty, windy roads around farms and hamlets towards our breakfast stop.
Our breakfast stop was a small rural town, high up on a mountainside. From its adobe and mudbrick lined streets, there were awesome glimpses of the gaping valley below. Roosters around town were still announcing the dawn, dogs were sleeping in the street. Other than our restaurant, there were no people about, not yet anyway. The restaurant was a family owned business, and it felt as though we were the first people that had ever stopped there; the kitchen was full of women who smiled and nodded as we passed by their window, the proprietor beamed and ushered us all into his garden as though we were royalty. It was a smorgasboard arrangement spread out on outdoor tables under a canopy; home made quinoa baked items, fresh local yoghurt, fresh fruits, and scrambled eggs. there was coffee, but feeling light headed I opted for a mug of coca leaves. It looked like some of the meal had been prepared in an outdoor oven.
When it was over the restaurant family waved us off like beloved relatives, and we began the even longer climb up through mountain passes to the valley below Salkantay and Humantay mountains. We arrived late in the morning, and initially much of the grandeur above us was hidden my swirling mists. We weren't alone, fleets of small buses were already there.
Hilton breifed us on the trek and handed out walking poles, then we all took off. Initially the walk comprised a flat section of about 2 kilometers through farmland along the valley floor. About one kilometer in, on a clear day, we should have seen Mount Salkantay in the distance, a huge glacier-covered monster dominating a narrow branch of the valley to the South. It wasn't to be for us; the clouds kept Salkantay a secret, although occasional gaps in the swirling mists gave us a tantalising glimpse of the granduer beneath.
We turned our backs to Salkantay and strode on towards Humantay mountain, climbing a little now. We could sense the mountain around and above us, but for now, it too was completely hidden by mists.
We came to a clearing and a paddock crossed by a fast flowing white-water stream. The paddock served as a kind of staging post for the people choosing to ride mules to the top. Muleters were waiting there with their stables of mules; all of the animals harnessed up awaiting their riders.
I was still way too sore from the hike to Inti Punku to comfortably do this hike, but I probably could have done it. Nonetheless I chose a mule, as the main aim was just to get there, not to prove anything. About a third of the others chose a mule too. We saddled up, the poor mule that had to carry me was not happy, and threatened to run off whenever it got the chance, not a good look when precipices are involved. I learnt to manage it with the reins rather than leave it to the muleter to manage, and I gained confidence as we went.
The path up was slippery, involved several crossings of the stream and quite a lot of teetering on the edge of chasms. It might have been easier on the legs, but the ride was no small feat in itself, especially when vertigo started to kick in. The heights in Peru are extraordinary - it is such a vertical place. The locals are used to being mountain goats, not so much a Melbournian with a fear of heights. There were also very steep sections where we dismounted and led our mules, and on some of the stream crossings too. And the final 500m was done on foot - no way at that height and that incline could one consider doing it on horseback.
But then we clambered over the lip of the summit, and there it was, the Blue Lake. It is clear and distinctively blue, but it is the backdrop that is beyond awesome. A giant wall of rock ice and snow extending to a giddyiong height above you, no less than four glaciers literally hanging off the cliffs. A narrow waterfall providing the only sound, cascading water echoing around the natural ampitheatre formed by the mountain.
The full scene revealed itself in stages. Heavy mist shrouded the cliff-face, but the mists were moving, and bit by bit sections of the wall would become apparrent, looking like sets to some massive Wagnerian Opera. I sat and watched the drama unfold. At times when I thought I could see the top at last, I'd realise, hell no, that's not cloud further up, that's more mountain!
An hour passed without noticing. The trekkers who had walked up arrived, including the Italians, now red-faced and puffing. Others were arriving from other tours too. I heard what I thought was an Aussie; he turned out to be a Kiwi who recognised my MacPac gear. He said trekking in New Zealand can be as challenging as Peru, but he'd never suffered altitude sickness till he got here. He said the worst effect on him was the insomnia, he was averaging about 2 hours' sleep at night, but also the racing pulse, which he said is always a worry. That gave me comfort, at least other people way younger than me were sharing the same symptoms. I was fine, just a little light-headed.Lake Humantay was the highest point I would get to in Peru, at 5000m above sea level.
After while Hilton called everyone together and explained the importance of the lake to the Incas. He got us to assemble one of those rock formations you see people leaving on beaches everywhere - I had no idea they originated in Peru, they are an Incan tradition that symbolises alignment of all the elements and brings luck and safety to the people who create them.
He then gave us some Incan oil that we rubbed in our palms, cupping our hands on our faces and inhaling. It was like inhaling aftershave - a warm sensation in your lungs that helps with altitude sickness if only because it makes you feel good for a few moments. As we stood there with our rocks and our incense, a condor swept down over the face of the mountain behind us and almost straight away the fog rolled away, revealling a blue sky and the full drama of Humantay. Hilton couldn't have orchestrated that better.
We ate our snacks and walked down the path back to the carpark. It took a couple of hours and was not easy-going, it required a lot of effort to walk down such a steep incline. I also stopped for a lot of photos, so largely did the walk down by myself.
When I reached the bottom I stood in awe of the valley and took my last photo of the glaciers on Humantay, the mountain now fully visible and looming over me, taking up most of the sky. What a sight.
Strangely, I was still the first to the car and was greeted with a fist pump and 'JONATTAN!' from Friendly Frank. I went up to the small cafe near the carpark and bought an 'Inca Cola', a sweet yellow carbonated drink something like Lucozade that you can only get in Peru. I noticed some midges bighting my elbow, but took ittle notice. I was to realise what a mistake that was in the days to come.
We took off and headed back to the same restaurant in the same village for lunch, a selection of beautful casseroles, no doubt full of guinea pig. They were delicious. I had a long talk with the Japanese guy all the way home, about Japan, Australia, South America and altitude sickness. It was 6.00pm when we got back to Cusco, we were dropped in one of the squares off the Plaza de Armas, and I walked up to the Rumi Punku, ignoring the girls soliciting for massages almost all the way.