Utah - Peru 2002 (2)

Denial...
ain´t just a river in Egypt... remember that line? Hopefully it ain´t a permanent state of things either, but for now, we´re doing a little swimming in Shut-Down Rio. For those that hear from Tommy and Mandy, this will be the NON-abbreviated version of the epic... for the rest, it will still be rich with details so save it to your archives and read when you feel up for it... or now if you need refuge from the daily daily yaddah yaddah...

Well, I´ll start way back when (last Sunday) with our pre-trip venture to the mercado to stock up on food and extras that we may need for the trip. From my last trip to Bolivia I learned that it´s easy to overdo the food situation and end up with more weight to lug around than is necessary so I kept my meal selection down to simple meals of pasta, raman, mac&cheese, and some veggies. Breakfast daily is granola with dehydrated milk... mmmm and lunch is energy bars, oranges and GU....mmmm. We had a few other treats like potatoes, onions, cilantro, cocoa...etc...

The mercado is amazing!! The head and hide of every animal possible, displayed from hooks and laid out on blocks for all to see, breathe on and smell... ooh, the smell. Nothing like old blood to kick in that appetite. The mercado is muy colorful!! Lots of gorgeous fruits running around in these little carts pushed by bicycles, shaded with canopies, manned by strong small peruvians that are sure if they speak slowly enough, you´ll understand Quechua... no, man, not gonna happen, but I appreciate the credit for being trilingual! Veggies - so many. All colors from lime to orange... fluorescents, neutrals, you name it... all laid out and ready for the steal... and that´s what it is for us. You can buy 12 potatoes for a dime. It almost feels unfair or like donations are necessary... of course they´re not, but you know. The best are the looks you get when you ask for some foods in the part of the market where the campesinos sell their agriculture. I ask for 6 papas.. and she just looks at me. Or maybe I should get it myself... Do you have a bag... And she just says with the movement of only her lips.... 6 papas. Allrighty then, and 5 cebollas, etc... Then when all is said, she hands me the bags to serve myself... haha! Love these people!

I´ll get into their clothing as soon as I talk about the living part of the market... yes, the part where they sell pets for food. Well, not pets to most, but having sung 'Ben' by The Jackson Five to my beloved Guinnea Pig Ben at the age of 11 or so, I consider the little guys nothing short of pets! Perfect little squeaking companions that enjoy chilling in the backyard, eating grass... dying of dehydration when you accidentally leave them out for too long... oops. Anyway, the Guinnea Pig out here is like the Chicken in most places. They sell them alive on the streets. They just cram dozens of them into bags. The kinder sellers spread them out so they can chill side by side while others just let them hang on top of each other, undoubtedly hoping they´ll meet the knife soon cause it has to be a better fate than this. I saw one that looked painfully like my other Guinnea Pig, Henry. Oh, good ole Henry. Ben and Henry... wow, my creativity with pet names has sure come a long way! The other living sales include chickens, turkeys .... that´s about it. Everything else is dead and gone and on the way to the mesa.

So, the more indigenous population (the women in particular) have a remarkable outfit which seems sorely impractical around here, it being winter in Peru and all.... This is how it looks if you´ve never seen it. I´ll start at the head... Bowler hats. Browns usually with a flower or feather on them... Some have bigger brims than others, but all are worn high on the head and seem pretty stylish but not so effective or necessary... Definitely a detail that isn´t overlooked by any of the Quechua women. From there we move onto a blouse, often white with a very colorful vest or piece of random material thrown over it. Many of them are wearing these tapestry type things on their backs, tied in the front, in which they carry children up to four years of age, herbs, clothing, etc... Those are always very colorful also... Next we have the most unusual aspect of the outfit.. A knee length, very colorful skirt with a massive petty coat underneath, a pair of thick stocking tights and soft dress shoes with no heal, more like moccasyns. Anyway - After some reflection, I decided this idea must come from the fashion of the Euros on the late 1800´s... ya know, the skirts, the hats, the works... They just held on to the notion that it´s the way to go.. I'm probably way wrong on that call, but it´s a fun hypothesis. It seems to me like the longer skirts and warmer tops like those found throughout Bolivia would be better... but they look great and they seem to take a lot of pride in their ensembles, so yeehaw!

Shit - that was just the market part! Just Sunday! No epic yet! Oh, better move on... so much to talk about though, really... so much. Do come this way soon. Stay with our friend Zarela in Huaraz (in her Hostel) and she´ll take such good care of you! She´s been keeping us satiated with the most scrumptious breakfast burritos and mate de coca...(which are the leaves that cocaine is made from and which supposedly help to combat the negative effects of higher altitudes and replenishes evergy supplies.. we will find out soon.

Monday morning, 6am.. alarm goes off. We are all packed and ready with one fairly heavy load each and one much heavier load each for our three porters. The porters come recommended by Zarela as does the driver who will get us safely to the trailhead for La Esfinge, the rock feature we´ll be climbing. The driver also shows up on time and after breakfast we load up and head out. We nod off from time to time on the 4 hour drive... at least the first, paved half of the trip. The last part is a winding rocky road through one of the most scenic and rural areas followed by one of the most impressive, overbearing canyons with massive walls on either side... easier to appreciate from an open pick up, but just as awesome from our mini-bus-van thingy. The porters rap in the front seat in Quechua, the local language ( most folks here are bilingual with Castellano and Quechua, and most have poorly developed Castellano which makes me second guess mine, until I convince myself that I have surely received more grammar lessons than most). We three gringos sit in the back taking in the sights... the clay homes with bright indigo doors and windows, corn drying from a hook by the front door, sleepy contented dogs watching the farmers walk behind two bulls who pull his plow through a newly de-rocked field.

As we gain altitude in the canyon, the river gushes and rushes by faster and faster, bluer and more pure... Glacial run off.. And then we´re surround by peaks. Most of which have a name ending in ´raju´which I found out means snowy peak in Quechua. Finally, we pull off to the side of the road next to some wandering cattle and hop out of the bus to take in our first view of La Esfinge... awe inspiring and captivating! We take some shots and punch it to the end of the road where we are greeted by the most impressive vista of some grand snowy peaks and La Laguna Paron... the most blue lake I´ve seen in ages! We chat with some folks that hang around there at the refugio. They are interested in what we came to do, from where we come and how much weight we are carrying... Meanwhile, we´re just trying to stay psyched for the hike ahead. Once loaded up, the three porters Cojoy, Turruju, and Juan ¨the Quechua¨(that went on an adventure with our friends last summer down here - yes, guys the same Juan!) and the three gringos take off on the windy trail up to the Sphynx.

We arrive at base camp in about 2 and a half hours, quite kicked but instantly rejuvenated by the sight of the chunk of rock we´re about to climb. We´re all psyched, including the porters.. Juan did a little jig for us at the top when we talked about how nice it would be if they had walk mans... they say they charge 80- 100 US $ for them here... if anyone has a walkman they don´t want, I was going to send them some.. I know I have a beater I could unload.. still works, just outdated... Playing tapes would be a necessity... Anyhoo...

We pay the porters, set up our meeting time for the following week and send them on their way. We promptly set up our camp, pitching tents, making a kitchen, filtering water, etc.... The camp for this climbing area is like an oasis in a desert. In the middle of this rocky, desert environment, with hills and undulations everywhere, there is this large expanse of devegetated, sandy, flat and partly sheltered land... I´m sure the Sphynx must have made a deal with someone to have this made so she would have more visitors! So, once we´re set up, we talk shop... what should be our plan for this climb. We´re thinking, day one- climb to the top of the first aid pitch, fix down as much as possible day two - get back up there, climb to the ledge and free and fix the next aid pitches off the ledge day three, just those pitches and climb to the top... If those pitches are super hard, we´ll spend two nights on the ledge (three in two sleeping bags zipped together - cozy, warm and lighter than three bags.. Tommy would be a lucky man.) Of course, we didin´t know what to expect really especially with one pitch of A3 nailing, etc... So, we eat dinner and hit the sack early since it´s dark by 6pm and cold as hell with no sun.

Thus begins our epic. Mandy and Rai sleep like total shit flying through the air! I was up all night long, peeing every hour (which is a good thing) but with the additional burden of a gnarly headache. I take some excederine in the night which helps me sleep from 4am to 6am... Finally, I bail from my small shelter and swing by Mandy and Tommy. Not doing so well... Mandy has the funk. She´s already had diarrhea and threw up too! I have the gnarls in my stomach but no activity yet. Tommy has the head aches... we have a rough day, Mandy can´t eat a bite... She lays in the tent most of the day dreaming of gingerale, I lay hunched over on rocks, trying to stay positive, trying to ignore the sledgehammer that´s beating in my skull and Tommy just drags about, wishing we all felt better. At about 7pm that night, my head is finally feeling better but oh, the stomach, then as suddenly as a hawk dives into the bush, I dive into a bush with some previous meals bidding me farewell... Poor Tommy got to witness that one! I flet instantly better. We all hit the hay again, hoping for more sleep, but at this point, Tommy is sure that we´ll be going down in the morning cause Mandy is really hating it!

The next day, we feel better with some residual signs of the pain but we´re willing to use this day to recover and make a decision later. That afternoon we´re thinking, well we don´t feel great and we´re all weak as hell but we better do something proactive or we´ll be hosed, so we motivate, and load up the hall bags with all the gear we´ll need for the route. We humped the gear to base (an hour hike with a load on) and stash it at the base for our day one attempt the following day. We have a plan, we have the gear worked out, we´re ready and we feel okay after our day of laying around, drinking mate de coca.... All´s well, all are sleeping, at 5am I wake to go out and pee and all is well.... And at 6am, there is a pitter patter on my tent... I lay there and fall back asleep until the constant pounding of this moisture wakes me and I take a peek... Are you kidding me? Snow! So much snow, falling sideways, a total white out with no view of the spectacular peaks that watched over us for the days prior, no view of La Esfinge... Nothing to do but go back to sleep and deal with the new pounding in my head. Finally at about 10 am, a very restless Mandy comes to my tent and while drawing pictures in the snow, she explains her frustrations, I toss in mine and Tommy gives his two cents... Basically - Mandy is ancy and can´t sit in the tent any longer without doing anything, wants to go down and come back later... Tommy is sorry to miss out on another go up the Sphynx but did summit last year, so he can deal and I'd hate to spend my whole Peruvian trip in the hills (if we return) but I definitely want to get to the top, so if it means going down and coming back up, so be it... So, we make a decision.. a very tough one... To GO DOWN!!!

We head back to the base of the climb with an empty hall bag and fill it with all the aid stuff that we won´t be needing in the future with our new plan, we take all of Tommy´s stuff out, including a rope and then we re-stash the gear... in what we hope to be a safe spot... buried by rocks. The new plan - Mandy and Rai come back next week and do the Original route. We left everything up there including one tent, sleeping bags, climbing gear, water, stove, food (in a barrell) and some clothing. Our next hump up to base camp will be us alone with virtually nothing on our backs - sweet!