10,000 feet is a lot of canyon

On the taxi ride to the bus station to begin my adventure to Colca canyon, I saw a bus labeled 'Cuatro Ases,' which I quickly translated as 'Four Asses.' This helps me narrow down the list of tour operators not to use.

Colca Canyon is about 10,000 feet deep, twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. After a six hour bus ride along roads that can shake fillings loose (which is pretty much any road in any somewhat remote area anywhere in the developing world, and every road in Cambodia), myself and six others arrived at Cabanaconde, a small town about halfway down the canyon. Have you ever seen cultures put broken glass on the tops of house walls to keep people out? In Colca Canyon the use cacti. Everyone has their own barbwire I guess.



Other than myself there was a Dutch couple, and Irish couple, an English woman, and our guide, Geraldine (I've noticed that women in the developing world tend to take nicknames that are easy for English speakers, and that these nicknames tend to be old-fashioned: Geraldine, Linda, Pam, etc.). As you approach the lip of the canyon, mountains tower 6,000 feet above you and the canyon floor spreads 4,000 feet below you. If you can imagine that, you can imagine Colca Canyon.


We began with a steep, five hour decent. On the way we could see the villages on the other side of the canyon. I didn't know it yet, but in three days my legs would be so sore I could barely walk; I'd be climbing stairs sideways, one leg at a time, as if 80 years old came early. Does the landscape look terraced? That's because the canyon features a terraced irrigation system installed by the Incas sometime in the 15th or 16th century that is still in use today. It's almost rainy season here, but not quite, so the canyon is still rather barren. But there was plenty of magay, a dinosaur-sized plant of the aloe vera family whose fibers are so strong they've been used since Incan times for the construction of rope and bridges.
Along the way we were treated to spectacular views of the entire canyon and its villages, including columnar basalt and sedimentary deposits left over from when the entire canyon was a sea. Sharing the trail with horses and donkeys, we made our way to the village of San Juan de Chuccho. Only 30 families strong, we barely saw any locals as we made our way along the path that doubled as an irrigation canal.


Eventually came to our home for the night, a small row of concrete bungalows. After a simple dinner of rice and veggies and a couple games of Shithead (the ubiquitous travelers card game) we retired for the evening, only to be roused not long after by Sharon, the Irish girl. She had found a scorpion in her bungalow (as did the rest of us later on), and when she asked the woman who was supplying our shelter for the night, the woman simply said 'oh, they're harmless.' Then she plucked the scorpion off the wall and crushed it between her fingertips. Convinced that the scorpions should be more scared of us than we should of them, I slept soundly.


The next day we traversed across the canyon, through the villages of Cosirhua and Malata before we approached Sangalle, or The Oasis. The river near Sangalle collects more water than other areas of the canyon, and the locals temporarily borrow the water to pump into pools for trekkers to swim in and relax around before the wateI is returned to the river. At 77 degrees, the water is perfect for cooling off, and we relaxed around the pools for the rest of the afternoonon (and I even was only slightly burned thanks to SPF 45). After spaghetti dinner by candlelight, we settled into our very basic bamboo bungalows, while I fell asleep to the sound of field mice scurrying around the walls of my hut while I wondered where the predators were.


The next day we awoke at 2am to begin our ascent out of the canyon. If you think that sounds stupid, you should have seen how stupid I thought it was when I had to get up at 2am to hike in the dark. Along the way were women selling various food and coca tea. I don't know how early they had to get up, but the chocolate bar I bought from them was definitelyly one of the best I've ever had. 3 and a half hours later we were having second breakfast back in Cabanaconde. After crowding onto a bus that was holding at least double its design capacity, we set off for mirador del cruise, or the condor lookout.



The Andean condor is a few inches shorter than its California cousin, but has a larger wingspan: up to twelve feet in width, the condors easily ride the thermals rising out of the canyon. We were lucky enough to see three condors in the hour and a half spent at the mirador. The rest of the time we enjoyed the circus, as tourbuses arrived full of amateur photographers and rows of Andean women sold everything from candy, jammy dodgers and coca tea to hats, postcards and condor fingerpuppets.


After the mirador the group left for the hot springs of La Calera, where we spent the afternoon relaxing in the thermal baths, watching Peruvian kids in water wings learn to swim. I like to think that this helped my legs, although you wouldn't know it from the way I was hobbling around that night. I had a terrific time, but I can't even think about going back until I can climb stairs again!