It had been four months since her last vacation, four long months of trainings, starting projects, practicing Spanish, and losing a site-mate. So it really wasn’t surprising that when Becca rolled in to Huaraz she wanted nothing more than a couple of days to relax and spend some time with her very good friends; Monica, Gina, and the internet. By the end of her second relaxation day, she found herself de-stressed, de-toxed and bored out of her mind, luckily they were booked to start the Santa Cruz Trek the following morning.
The first morning was a mash of packing, a very long bus ride, photo stops, and a long conversation with the cook, Julio, who told her he’d take her skiing when she returned to Ancash and offered to teach her how to cook Peruvian food. At one point, they were all ushered off the bus because it simply could make the tight corners and steep hills with all of them aboard. This was when she had her first taste of fresh, clean, Andean air - there was not a lot of it.
After a little more walking, a little more heavy breathing and a little more driving, they arrived at the trailhead, where they ate lunch and waited for all of the details to be sorted out...and took pictures with donkeys...
Al fin, they set off, 16 strangers from all around the world, starting the four-day, 48 kilometer Andean journey around the Santa Cruz loop. The first day was short, only a few hours crossing through villages on green hillsides, acclimating to the 10,000+ ft altitude, and enduring the occasional misstep.
That evening they camped in a beautiful valley which they shared with the donkeys as well as the horses and cows that lived there. They enjoyed a lovely meal squeezed into the dinner tent together and talked until it was far too late to be awake (roughly 8 pm). That first night was bitterly cold but the love of her friends kept Becca warm enough (ok, and wearing all of the clothes she brought plus a jacket borrowed from Monica and a hot water bottle at her feet).
The second day they woke before the sun graced the valley and ate a quick breakfast before setting off for what they were told would be the most challenging day. The group walked for a couple of hours on mostly level ground, watching the sun slowly peek over the mountain tops.
It was nearly midday when they reached Union Pass, a steep, roughly 3,000 ft altitude increase that would lead them to a tiny gap in the rocky terrain where they would cross through the other side. No big thought Becca, but her face must have betrayed her because the guide patted her shoulder several times and told her not to worry before moving on.
Lung capacity thoroughly challenged, Becca arrived at the top...
...and looked down upon the beauty below...
...which was challenged only by the beauty on the other side.
The rest of the day held a long downhill toward camp under the unreal beauty of the mountains. Becca spent the majority of those left hours hiking in silence, gazing at the giants surrounding her and pondering the big questions of life. Though the day was beautiful, a sort of refreshing you couldn’t find just anywhere, Becca was happy when they arrived at camp and settled in for another night of relaxing and conversing.
The third day they made the quick morning hike to enjoy the view of the valley below and then on to a beautiful lagoon where they stopped to eat lunch and take pictures.
After lunch they crossed out of the green into territory that confusing Becca, making her feel like she’d returned to Morrope, only it had sprouted mountains.
They spent the remainder of the day hiking through a long valley filled with wildlife and the kind of rocks that made for beautiful scenery and equally beautiful twisted ankles, until they reached camp that afternoon, tired but happy. Becca considered her dirty feet for the first time in days and decided to wash them in the nearby glacial run-off creek with Monica and a couple of the others. The water was rather cold, incredibly cold, cold enough that the Frenchman in their group taught them some choice words in French. However once Becca’s feet where clean and she was cozy again wearing all of the clothes she’d packed and enjoying the company of the group and a warm meal, the cold water was forgotten. That evening the group also celebrated a birthday with a an upbeat and off key rendition of both the English and Spanish versions of Happy Birthday and a “cake” put together from leftover pancakes, fruits, and manjar blanco.
The fourth and final day led the group through more the increasing beautiful scenery of the river valley, following the trail eventually up the sides of the hills and into the final station where they had their park tickets stamped to signify the end of their journey.
They reached the bus in a village below and waited a typical hora peruana before boarding and getting back on the road to return to Huaraz. Becca spent those first few minutes in the bus glued to the window, alternating taking photos and staring out at the wonders below from the snow-capped Andes to the patchwork of farms below. As she stared back at the opening to the valley they’d just returned from, she felt tears prick behind her eyes.
“Goodbye,” she whispered, whether it was to the mountains or the memories though, she wasn’t sure.
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