Huayhuash Trek Photographs

ROOP MALLIK – HIKING THE CORDILLERA HUAYHUASH  
Alone, June – July 2005

I had been to Peru earlier in Dec-Jan, 2004-05 It had been a wonderful trip, those nights in the Amazon forest and the 4-day hike on the Inca trail to Macchu Picchu will never be forgotten. I had great company, and everything was well taken care of by the tour agency. But those were exactly the two things I was not going to have now – I was all alone, and I wanted to do it the hard way this time. No readymade schedules, no warm food prepared by cooks at the end of the day. I was here to wander on my own.

All this began when we were sitting at Lima airport in Jan 2005 on our way back to the US. I loitered around to the bookstore and found a small booklet on a mountain range called the Cordillera Huayhuash (Quechua word for a kind of weasel) in the department of Ancash, Peru. It was a compact range, but had peaks rising up to 6634 metres. It was remote and could be accessed only through 2 days of hiking over difficult terrain. I loved the photographs at first sight – the mountains were sheer white walls of rock and ice, and had beautiful structure. Back in the US, the more I looked at that booklet the more I yearned to see the real thing. Finally, I decided that I was going back to Peru in summer of 2005 – the lure of Huayhuash was too strong to resist.

25 JUNE, 2005
The flight to Lima and overnight bus ride to Huaraz was smooth, and I reached Huaraz early in the morning (see map). Huaraz is the main city in the northern mountainous region of Peru, and is a base for all mountain expeditions. The massive snow-clad peaks of the Cordillera Blanca (= White mountains) dominate the eastern horizon near this town. My destination, however, was the lesser known Cordillera Huayhuash. I took a bus at 2PM for Chiquain, the village closest to the Huayhuash. If the mountain views on the way were a precursor to the real thing, then I was in for a treat of a lifetime. We passed Conococha, and the bus climbed along unpaved roads high into the mountains. I sat up anxiously for my first view of the Huayhuash. Finally, after a sudden bend in the road, there it was – every bit as beautiful as I had seen in the pictures. The double-fangs of Jirishanca, one of the most beautiful mountains in the world stood out clearly to the north. The higher peaks of Yerupaja and Yerupaja Chico were in clouds, but that just added to the beauty. Vertical walls of ice, mystically dissappearing into dark clouds – this is what I had travelled so far to see.

Reached Chiquain at 5:30PM, and checked in into the Gran hotel Huayhuash, a small but friendly place. My plan was to hike east to a lake (Laguna Jahuacocha) at the base of Huayhuash, and then to cross over to the eastern side of the cordillera through a pass called the Cacanamputa pass (4800 m, see map). When I told the people in Chiquain that I wanted to take this route on my own, and with my own backpack, they discouraged me. It cannot be done – as simple as that. The mountains are too big, too remote and too cold. There is no hope of rescue if I get lost or get sick at that altitude. Reluctantly, I decided to heed their warnings and take an arriero (a guide) along with a donkey to carry my backpack. In retrospect, this was going to be a very wise decision. The hotel owner arranged an arriero for me – Macedonio Garro. I was surprised to see Garro’s nice business card, which he gave me after we came back from the trip. He came in to see me in the evening, and we agreed upon a price through my broken Spanish and scribbles on my notebook. I was surprised that I could communicate quite well in Spanish, and we could understand and analyze complicated routes and situations. I liked Garro – he appeared to be modest, simple and trustable. I was going to depend on him for the next few days. I had a good dinner and went to bed early, however sleep would not come easily. It always takes me a few days of acclimatization before I can sleep at these altitudes.

26 JUNE, 2005, CHIQUAIN TO LLAMAC AND HIKE TO JAHUACOCHA
I was up at 5:30 AM, before first light of dawn and went to the roof of the hotel. First, it was dark but then very slowly but surely the grand spectacle of Huayhuash unfolded on the eastern horizon. Dark shapes against the blood red of the morning sky, and then an identity and a name to each. As I shivered in the cold winds, I was so glad to be here on this day and at this time.

I took the 9AM combi to the last village called Llamac. Narrow mountainous dirt roads, wild scenery and the wonderfully brisk Rio Llamac flowing past next to the route. Reached Llamac at 11AM, and found Garro waiting for me with 2 donkeys, Negro (male) and Sulekha (female). Garro and I joked about how both of us were here without our wives, but the donkeys would not go without each other… talk about faithfulness !!

I had bought some rice in Chiquain, and gave it to Garro. This was going to be our main food on the road ahead. We set off around 11:30AM in a southerly direction past an old iglesia (church) in the main village square of Llamac. The trail was steep and climbing as soon as we were on it … no kind and mellow beginnings here. We had to climb 1100 metres today, and this was the way it was going to be most of the time. I felt quite strong and up to the task, but then reminded myself that Negro the donkey was doing all the hard work of carrying my backpack. With that 15 Kg backpack on my shoulders, I would probably have just rolled back down the mountain by now.

Two and a half hours of climb in the strong sun brought us to the Macrash Punta pass (4300m). I made my way up wearily to the pass and flopped down beside Garro. After a few minutes, I looked up to the left and my breath came out in a delighted “whoosh”. A wall of mountains bedecked in white snow stood boldly against a dark background of clouds. Mituraju, Jirishanca, Ninashanca and then finally the massive crest of Yerupaja, lightly caressed by a drifting veil of clouds. The mountains touched me with frigid winds, and I just sat there taking in every detail of the beauty in front of me. I started talking to Garro about his family, and how hard life was as an arriero in these mountains, where few tourists came. I was struck by how stoic this man was – never once did he complain about his hardships. Never once did I feel that he would rather be doing something else. I started teaching him some English, and he was an eager student. In a few minutes he could say “My name is Garro, what is your name”? He soon began asking me for English translations of useful Spanish phrases that he thought about on his own. I realized that all the phrases/words he came up with would be very were useful when taking out hikers. Garro was a very intelligent man, and I admired his desire to learn. I hope Garro still remembers some of the lessons that I gave him during our time together.

Eventually, we descended from Macrash Punta on our way to Laguna Jahuacocha at the foot of the Huayhuash. After a further 3 hours of steep up-and-down, I was now starting to get tired. We did not find a good water source anywhere on the hike, and I was surviving on only half a litre of water for the whole day. It was all very sudden … my legs were almost giving up and I felt dehydrated and feverish. I could go on no further. I mumbled to Garro “Soy enfermo” (I am sick), and we decided to camp right there. It was completely dark and bitterly cold by this time. My fingers were numb, and it took quite some effort to set up the tent. Garro lit up his alcohol stove to make some rice. But the flame was too weak, and the water from the stream was ice-cold. I took out my white-gas stove and we soon had the water boiling. I convinced Garro about the virtues of Indian food (which he had never heard of) and we emptied a pre-cooked packet of “Baingan Bharta” (Eggplant curry) into the boiling rice. Soon, we had hot food ready and ate it with much gusto.

Before getting in into the tent, I took a last weary look around. The sky was ablaze with a billion stars, and the snow-clad peaks were like distant mirrors, mysterious and barely visible in the weak moonlight. As I let my tired body in into the sleeping bag, I knew I was going to be sick. The first spasms of fever came, and I shivered uncontrollably for a long time. I did not sleep a wink that night, trying to find non-existent patterns in the sounds of the stream flowing by.

27 JUNE 2005, NEAR LAGUNA JAHUACOCHA AND SOLTERACOCHA  
I felt a little better in the morning, and drank a lot of water from the stream. When I looked around our tent site in the morning light, I realized how beautiful this place was. We loaded the donkeys again, and started the walk to Laguna Jahuacocha. I was tired within a few minutes of walking, and when finally I crossed a moraine to get my first view of Jahuacocha, I was almost dead on my feet. Still, the incredible beauty of this place made its mark on my fever-ridden mind. Many kinds of birds fluttered in and around the swamps by the lake. The reflections of the great mountains on the water would disappear when a duck waddled across the placid lake, and then reappear slowly as if by magic. We walked to the shore of the lake, and set up camp near a few huts. The old shepherd-lady living there invited me in, and offered me boiled potatoes and excellent queso (cheese) made by the family. Many questions were asked, and many answers given as we all got to know each other better. Garro told her that I was not feeling well, and she immediately produced some coca tea. I also bought some fresh trucha (trout) that they had caught from laguna Jahuacocha.

Garro collected some firewood, and we soon had rice boiling. We added readymade “Dal”, dried vegetables and fish to the pan and let it all simmer for some time. The meal was excellent, and we enjoyed it in the sunshine by the lake. Our plan was to hike past the north-east end of the lake, up the mountains through the Sambuya Punta pass (4750m) and reach the next campsite of Quartelhuain (see map). However, I was in no physical shape to go further up into the mountains. I told Garro that we would rest the day here, and then try again tomorrow after I had recovered. In the afternoon, we went for a walk to Laguna Solteracocha, with magnificent close-up views of the mountains. The views of Laguna Jahuacocha to the west in the dying sunlight were excellent. That night the fever came back with venom, and I spent my third sleepless night in a row.

28 JUNE 2005, AT LAGUNA JAHUACOCHA
I felt as bad as ever in the morning. The fever was taking a heavy toll, and I had absolutely no stamina. Climbing the next high pass was out of the question. These mountains were not very forgiving, and there was little room for mistakes. I decided to go back tomorrow the way we had come. I had no other choice, things can get very serious very quickly on the high mountains. In such remote terrain, where you might not see another human being for days, chances of help and rescue are very small indeed. I lay in my tent the whole day, feverish and sad at the thought of what I was letting go.

29 JUNE 2005, JAHUACOCHA TO LLAMAC AND BACK TO CHIQUAIN
We had rented a horse from the shepherds so that I could ride on the way back to Llamac. So, at seven in the morning, I retreated on horseback. I was weak, fever-ridden and embarrassed by my inability to even walk on my own. After a 6 hour ride, I was finally back in Llamac just in time for the combi back to Chiquain. I was now feeling better, and shared some chocolates and small talk with my co-passengers in the combi. On reaching Gran hotel Huayhuash, I had a hot water bath and a good lunch. Desperate to sleep, I wearily crept into bed. Six hours later I woke up groggy and thirsty, but feeling much better. Another light meal, and I was again back in bed. I slept for ten more hours, and woke up fresh as a flower next morning. Garro came in to see me around noon, and we went down to have a cup of tea. I promised to send him his payment and a generous extra from Huaraz. This man had been a trustable friend. Without him, I would have been in serious trouble in the mountains.

30 JUNE AND 1 JULY 2005, BACK IN HUARAZ
My spirits had been quite low on the return from Jahuacocha. I had so much wanted to cross the Huayhuash across the Cancanamputa passes. I had imagined myself standing on the continental divide, where the mountain streams on one side would make a short journey into the Pacific. But just a stone’s throw away, on the other side of the pass would be waterfalls and streams making their way for many thousands of miles into the vast unknowns of the Amazon, on their way to the distant Atlantic ocean. I would see the Andean Condor on the high passes. Then, to crown it all, would be the descent into the Carhuacocha valley on the dramatic eastern side of the Huayhuash range. But all these dreams evaporated with my fever.

Back in Huaraz, just to recover and to cheer myself up, I did a 1-day tour of  the Cordillera Blanca near Huaraz. We went to Laguna Llanganuco, which is a high altitude lake set in between the giant mountains of Huascaran and Huandoy. The blue waters of this high altitude lake are post-card material in Peru, and I was lucky to get some post-card like pictures myself. I also got some nice sunset shots of Huascaran, the highest mountain in Peru.

After 16 hours of good sleep back in the hostel in Chiquain, I felt as good as ever. The wild thought of going back to Jahuacocha and then on further did cross my mind. However, I was still weak and could not take the risk. But, I just had to see Siula Grande and the mountains near laguna Carhuacocha. I had come too far to let it all go. I decided to go back to the town of Huaraz, and then try to make my way to the closest village on the eastern side of the Cordillera Huayhuash (see map). This village is called Queropalca, and is rarely visited by tourists. This is because it is just too difficult to arrange transport to the village, the roads are quite bad and it is a long long drive through quite remote Andean landscape.

2 JULY, 2005. HUARAZ TO CARHUACOCHA VALLEY VIA QUEROPALCA…
I was on the small bus to Huallanca at 6AM. I must have slept off for a while, because when the bumpy roads awakened me, it was into a different world. Why did nobody ever come here ? The tiny bus was by now deep in the heart of the Andes. We were passing through a valley below the massive walls of the Cordillera Huallanca. Green pastures spread out as far as the eye could see, with sheep grazing lazily amid verdant streams. But, if you let your gaze travel upwards, the landscape was more forbidding. The greenery gave way to hard granite, and then further up, to massive glaciers resplendent in blinding white. On the way, we passed the lead and zinc producing mines of Huanzala. Oddly enough, the huge mining complex seemed to be a part of the scenery. In my eyes, the ugly machinery of man could not diminish the grandeur of this landscape.

Around 10:30 AM, I got down at Huallanca and was lucky to immediately get a “combi” to my next destination, La Union. A combi is basically a private car run by one of the locals, in which an arbitrary number of passengers can be crammed in and ferried. I was a rare “gringo” in these parts, and got all the attention from my fellow passengers. I turned the music in the car louder, and everybody sang loudly for an hour as the Toyota rolled into deep canyons and past glacier-fed rivers on our way to La Union. Since I did not understand the words, my job was to drum loudly on a speaker box which my co-passenger was carrying. In between all this, I explained to everybody that I was from a far-off (muy lejos) country called India, where the people and rides through the countryside were just like what we were doing at that moment.

Just before noon, I was in La Union … a small town set ina deep valley with one main road and a lot of people loitering around throwing strange looks at the unusually dressed gringo in their midst. I noticed several cars parked by the roadside, each with a young boy and a girl sitting in it listening to loud music. I was in La Union for about an hour, and I did not notice these characters doing anything else. Perhaps there were a few rich families in La Union, and this was the favourite passtime of their younger generations. Anyway, I had more important things to arrange, and being hungry went looking for lunch. A hearty meal of rice and fried potatoes with salad perked me up quite a bit. On some investigation, I found one Mr. Joseph… a middle-aged gentleman who had a private car. After much negotiation, he agreed to drive me to Queropalca for 130 soles (about 40 US dollars). It appeared to be quite a large sum of money to pay at that time, but I had no other choice. We filled up petrol and were away into the mountains.

On the way to La Union, I was marvelling at the remoteness of the valleys I was passing through. But all that was nothing compared to the moonscape that we were now entering. Vast grasslands bordered by towering mountains, windswept passes, small desolate houses on the way, sheep running helter-skelter at the aproaching car, and not another human being in sight for miles and miles. This fairytale drive went on and on for four hours (80 KMs). I was in awe of this land. This was the very heart of the Andes, where the real Peru lives. Small villages where old and age-worn faces would look up and wave, always with a welcoming smile. Somebody suddenly spoke within me… this is really what I had come here to see, the mountains were just an excuse. This is why I had come back to Peru…. for people like these, who were poor yet happy.

We reached Queropalca at about 4 PM. Immediately, I knew why everybody in Huaraz had discouraged me from approaching the Huayhuash through this route. I had been through many desolate places, but Queropalca gave me a very uneasy feeling for reasons I do not know. There were a few people loitering around listlessly, and they would look up with a big question mark on their face if you asked them anything. I wanted to get out of here as soon as I could. Even the cold mountains were a welcome alternative to this place. Since it was already quite late in the day, my plan was to hike till sunset and then camp for the night. Early tomorrow, I would push for Laguna Carhuacocha.

With some vague directions and the help of my compass, I started off along the Rio Carhuacocha towards the Cordillera. The Rio Carhuacocha begins at Laguna Carhuacocha, which was my destination. So, just following the river upstream should get me to the lake. This was going to be my first really solo outing in the Andes… no arriero, no donkeys… nothing. Just on my own steam !!! All that steam was running out within the first hour. I could not find any trail, and my plan of sticking close to the river was not working. The terrain was too steep, and my backpack too heavy for my recently recovered body and mind. Just when I was going to give up in desperation, I heard a distant whistle from the mountains, and saw a small boy sitting high up on the hill. He waved and pointed me to a point farther up where I detected a faint trail climbing into the mountains. I thanked all my gods for this kind messenger, and puffed and panted up the hill and flopped down onto the trail.

The boy came running down the hill to me, and we made small talk for a while. I gave him chocolate, and he offered to show me a water stream where I could fill up my bottle. After filtering 2 litres of water, I bade goodbye to my new friend and continued along the trail. As I made my way up the valley, my mind searched for that word which would be the closest description of what I felt. Suddenly, I had it. SERENITY…yes, that was the word. As evening fell, mist descended from the mountains and hung over the valley. There was absolute silence as I walked along slowly, lost in my thoughts. I could not see them through the mist, but the cold winds coming in along the valley gave me a feel of the snow-clad mountains of the Huayhuash up ahead. Tomorrow, I would see them at last.

I must have walked for a few hours before it got dark and very cold. I came by a small hut, from where a little boy walked out and said “hola”. I decided to camp there for the night. The small shepherd family consisted of a lady, her two sons and a very very cute little girl who could barely walk. Her cheeks were like red apples, as you often find in children growing up in the high mountains. The children helped me set up my tent, and senorita offered me boiled potatoes for dinner. I went into their hut which had a small fire burning at one corner, and a few baby sheep running around inside. I took out a packet of spicy tomato soup and warmed it in the fire. As I shared that simple meal with them, I felt very welcome and honoured to be part of their world for a short time. When I came out of the hut, a weak moon had risen in the sky. The shifting mist was almost luminous. I sat outside for quite a long time, taking in this magic. When I finally crept into my sleeping bag, sleep came easily.

3 JULY, 2005. ALONG THE CARHUACOCHA VALLEY…
I was up at 4AM, and began my hike in the weak light of my flashlamp. I wanted to see the east face of Siula and Yerupaja at sunrise. Light dawned behind me on the eastern horizon, as I walked in anticipation towards Laguna Carhuacocha. My first sight of Siula Grande was fleeting and momentary, but mystical. Through the grey mist, I just saw two pockets of gold where the first rays of the sun lighted up snow on the face of Siula. The mist gradually cleared in the morning sun, and the immense face of Yerupaja appeared like a white ghost, rising more than 8000 feet above the valley. Siula Grande appeared soon after, sitting further back but in majestic accompaniment to Yerupaja, but barely visible. A little later, the mist had cleared and both the giants were visible in full glory. Great mountains have a way of asserting themselves on you, of putting you in your place… and I suddenly felt very insignificant as I admired the immensity ahead of me. Even the clouds parted as the mountains wished, because I could see strange funnel-like clouds, just like a giant hat on Siula.

I reached the moraine overlooking Carhuacocha around 10:30AM, and wearily climbed over it for my first view of Laguna Carhuacocha. What a jewel !! The brilliant blue waters were calm, like everything else I had seen in this valley. In this mirror were reflected the lofty peaks of Jirishanca, Yerupaja and Siula. My mind went back to Joe Simpson’s description of these mountains in his book “Touching the void”. This was indeed an ampitheater of stunning grandeur. I sat there, resting my tired back on a rock for more than an hour and taking in the views. Suddenly, there was a booming sound like thunder, but only with much sharper overtones. I was hoping to see this, and there it was … an avalanche coming down the north-east face of Yerupaja. It was exhilarating to see that mass of snow hurtling down the vertical face, but I was glad to be at a safe distance. Though there are rarely any climbers on Yerupaja, this would be “goodbye” to any unfortunate soul trying his luck at this time.

Around noon, I descended to the lake and to a small hut near its shores where I had earlier spotted a shepherd family and few children. As I reached close, a small boy came running to me and asked for a pen !! I was surprised why he asked for a pen. I searched in vain for a pen that I usually carry, but just could not find it at that moment. To keep him happy I gave the kid a small comb, and he started fussing with his hair. His father later told me that the kid is fond of studies, and goes to a school in Queropalca. I believed the father when I asked the child “Cuanto hay Trientedos (32) menos Diecisiete (17) ?”, and pat came the reply “Quince (15)”. At that time, I regretted not finding my pen anywhere.

After spending some more time, I reluctantly started the long walk back to Queropalca. I turned back innumerable times to get another last view of the mountains. I was sad to be leaving this place. On the way back, I came upon the family where I had camped for the night. On seeing me from a distance, the little girl with red cheeks ran inside her hut and reappeared with a small rug for me, crying out “Asiento, asiento” (seat for you). I was touched, to put it very mildly.

I reached Queropalca in the afternoon. There was only one person with a truck who could be hired to take me to the village on Banos further down. However, I was told that there was a horse race going on somewhere in the village and the truck was needed to ferry people. I waited till 8PM, and chatted with some old men in Queropalca before the truck finally arrived. After an hour-long truck ride, I found a small hostel in Banos. Next day, I was up early and again retracing my way back to Huaraz on a “combi” via La Union and Huallanca.

I was back in Huaraz and packing my bags to go back. The evening sun lighted up the distant Cordillera Blanca, as like any other evening in Huaraz. But today was the last time I would see these mountains.

ADIOS, PERU !!