the danger zone. aka: the needle in the red.
So after some rest and relaxation (including some unimpressive ruins and some very impressive bug bites) we decided to attempt a day hike. This involved a good old fashioned neighborhood collectivo (small bus) ride, not complete without an absurd amount of fellow passengers, up a non-maintaned imitation of a road. Anyways we got to the trail and started up.
It wasn´t long until we realized that hiking at these altitudes was going to be more challenging than we originally planned. Its a weird feeling having your body starved of oxygen. It starts with a suddle dizziness, then slowly your head starts to feel very light. The higher you go the harder it becomes to catch your breath. Every few steps you need to stop and breathe simply to avoid passing out. After a while the dizzyness turns into nausia and the lightheadedness turns into a throbbing, even a pounding headache. Imagine if you will, in your field of view, a dashboard, with guages that monitor your vital signs. All the needles are in the red, and with every step upward they move deeper and deeper into it, until finally the needle is buried as deep into the red as it will go. This is how we felt climbing up to Lake Churup.
We did all eventually make it to the lake. An elevation of about 14,500 feet. We fared much better than some others on the trail (one girl laying on a rock next to her vast puddle of vomit). Got some cool pictures, although they won´t make it onto the blog until later. I can´t speak for everyone, but I was now legitimately worried about our hiking trips in the Andes. 14,500 was high but we would need to climb higher. The hike to Lake Churup was a stepping stone. A means to get acclimatized to the high altitude, and despite the worries I also now felt legitimately excited. Bring on the Andes.
The overnight bus to the Andes.
(this is not our bus. but you get the idea)We made it though. To Huaraz. Our base of operations the next five weeks. It was apparent we were in the Andes. Jagged white peaks in the distance. That feeling of choking as your body begs for oxygen. Our first task: find a hostel.
Seth led us first down into a damp narrow hole. At least that is how I would describe the place. In no way built (and especially not maintained) for human visitation. I was overwhelmed with claustoraphobia immediately and dragged myself back outside. Soon the others joined me. Seth arguing on the side of the hole. The search continued. We saw a couple other unnotable places (and a transfestite) before we found our sanctuary... Caroline Lodgine. Outside of town, free breakfast, clean and uncramped, trekker friendly and cost effecient. A safe haven, home away from home.
So now we play the waiting game. Huaraz is at over 10,000 feet so we had to hang out a few days and let our bodies grow more red blood cells so we wouldn´t get altitude sickness and die. Just walking around Huaraz that day I got very nausious and light headed. Nothing for us to do but eat drink and be merry. Let the good times roll.
on the third day... look to the east.
fernando was found. held captive by his own imagination for days. his spoken spanish (which is two fold the amount of spanish understood by dear fernando) was limited to "uno mas" and "rapido." nothing to eat except the fine dining options of the most luxurious community in peru. no contact with his amigos and tribe membes save a sparatic facebook message left hastily between meals. indeed a hell for most men. Fernando was, however, quite content with his situation and treated our expansive search efforts with a hazy look of dissapointment and a casual "hello" with a half grin, obviously forced. We were now reunited however and even fernando was excited for our upcoming adventures. We made arrangements to escape the deep bone-filled catacombs and horn honking claustrophobia of the big city and head north. north to the andes.
the hobo drifters return (some of them, and some new ones)
South America. more specifically, peru. Drifting once again are Ashley and Josh. New to this tribe of vagrant travelers... Seth"Z" Jaramillo and some guy known only as Fernando (which may or may not be his real name). (ben and jason have taken a sabatical from the homeless world and are currently doing other things that i will allow them to account for). some technological lack-of advancements have so far disbanded any attempts to post pictures and videos... so for now... words. put together to make sentences (sort of). top to bottom left to right. you´ll get used to it. Also... pictures stolen, blatently, from the internet.
we arrived in peru on october 3rd (when i say we i mean ashley seth and I. fernando was currently unaccounted for, lost in limbo somewhere between the two Americas in an outrageous scheme to save 40 dollars.) Despite Z´s fluent spanish and the combined mental efforts of the three of us, we immediately got hustled out of 45 soles and took a dark cab ride into the oblivion of Lima. Hotel España. our home for the next couple days.
Lima. 8 million people. very dirty. but awesome in it´s own way. they have a chinatown (where I did not see any chinese people). lots of little peruvians though. lots and lots of little peruvians. nice people for the most part. What really impressed me was what they would try to sell. one lady was selling strictly knee braces. another, inflatable turtles. a couple times i saw people with bathroom scales trying to sell me how much i weigh. one that really stood out was the guy selling homemade marionettes. my attempt to describe such a scene will surely fall short but try to imagine... he probably had thirty of these things hanging. the bodies made from a single peice of cloth. heads from different toys (including barney and barbie and others) crudely sewed on. complete with strings attached to rings for your fingers. a small child staring in awe while the vendor lack-lusterly jiggled the strings as if to say "come on, buy me." I was impressed by the creative entreprenuership of the limeños.
Our visit to lima was not complete without a ride on a filthy city bus to miraflores. where we would begin our search for the long lost fernando. miraflores was obviosly the wealthy part of town. as we rode from our hotel in central lima we saw the scenery obviously change from shanty to much less shanty. At the lighthouse park near the beach we asked "ha visto una gringo alto, gigante" to no avail.
(to be continued)