Santa Cruz, Huaraz
Peru
Three days, two nights. No tour, no guide, no donkeys.
Day 1
Distance: 15 km
Ascent: 850 m
Descent: 300 m
The night before we started our trek, we stayed in the noisy highway town of Yungay. As we drove from here to the tiny hamlet of Vaqueria the next morning, 3 hours away, we passed by some of the most dramatic scenery we had witnessed so far (I was disappointed there were no photo stops). In Vaqueria, despite being surrounded by gigantic mountains, there wasn't a drop of snow in sight. We loaded our bulging bags on our back and by 10.20 a.m. we were off.
Beginning at 3,700 m, we spent the first few kilometres sloping down then up along an unpaved road through quiet villages. The locals often said hello to us, and pointed us in the right direction if we looked uncertain. A couple of white peaks came into view but were quickly swallowed up again behind the bare, pale mountains in the foreground.
Almost 6 km in we arrived at the first official campsite, where we stopped for lunch. Three Peruvian kids came and sat in front of us, watching us while we prepared our sandwiches and wraps. They tried conversing with us in Spanish, but once they realised we had only a limited understanding of their language they sat silently and stared. It was highly unnerving.
The next section was mostly flat, around the outside of a boggy plateau. The icy summit of Taulliraju (5,830 m) in the distance, as well as an occasional donkey train at ground level, led the way. At the end of the plateau was Paria campsite, where those doing the trek over 4 days camp on the first night. It was empty. We took a short break here before continuing on.
The last 4 km were the most difficult of the day, steadily climbing up to 4,270 m. Taulliraju appeared closer and closer, while other snow-capped peaks appeared behind us. We passed a large group of trekkers and their guides coming the other way, the only non-locals we saw all day. The horseflies were out and about, but it wasn’t like the swarms I had encountered at Laguna 69.
Around 4 p.m., thanks to Mapsme, we found a tiny flat patch of land in among a rocky, marsh-like terrain, just big enough to fit our 2-person tent. There was a makeshift fire pit to one side, but with no matches or wood it was useless to us. A trickling creek ran nearby underneath the long grass, and a short walk revealed a minuscule cascade where we could fill up our water bladders. Once the tent was set up, we rapidly changed into all of our warm clothes. We ate an unexciting meal of muesli for dinner at 5 p.m., which was ridiculously early but we were keen to be ready for bed before dark. Just as we finished eating, the sun disappeared behind the mountains, causing the temperature to plummet. We dived into our sleeping bags and stared at the canvas ceiling, hearing nothing but the occasional breeze go by. I was loving it.
Day 2
Distance: 18.5 km
Ascent: 600 m
Descent: 1,000 m
In the morning we woke to find frost both on the ground and on the tent. The idea of removing ourselves from our warm sleeping bags was unbearable. Despite the deadly silence during the night, neither of us achieved much sleep. It didn't help that my inflatable pillow had developed a hole and was completely flat by morning.
At 8.20 a.m. we set off, by which time the sun had reached us and we could take off our jackets, beanies and gloves. The trail continued on its uphill trajectory, not giving our stiff legs a chance to warm up. From camp it was about 4 km to reach the main pass, Punta Union, and from below it appeared as though we needed to go directly up a rock wall. The last kilometre was torture, with a crazy incline that was mostly just walking up a bare rockface. If we didn’t have a map and the frequent piles of donkey poo guiding us, I don't think we would have found the way.
Punta Union, at 4,750 m, was more spectacular than I had imagined. Snowy peaks towered to the left and right, a milky blue lagoon sat at the base of a broad glacier, a dry valley extended out ahead of us and the sky was cloudless. I quickly forgot about the 2 hours of agony it took to reach here and slowly absorbed the wonder surrounding us. This view was why everyone recommended this hike.
Going down wasn't so fun. The switchbacks were full of ankle-breaking rocks that shifted with every footstep. It was slow going, with multiple trains of donkeys pushing us to the sides. The further we descended, the more the snow-capped mountains disappeared, leaving a sea of pale brown around us. Once we reached the valley floor, we found several tents set up at a campsite on the river. Here we ate lunch and watched as hikers completing the trek in the opposite direction to us came up from the valley and made their way into camp. The horseflies also appeared at this stage, aggressively attacking us non-stop for the rest of the day.
It was only a gentle climb up to the Alpamayo viewpoint, where there was a decent (but not fantastic) view of the white Alpamayo mountain range. From there we crisscrossed along a thousand or so switchbacks beside a waterfall to return to the river at the bottom of the valley. At this point the rocks were replaced with sand, which wasn’t any easier to walk on. Combined with the burning sun and dry climate, we could be forgiven for believing we were hiking through the desert.
Eventually we came to Laguna Jatuncocha, which we had first seen from Punta Union. The water changed colour depending on our point of view: sometimes it was a vibrant turquoise, at other times it was sea green. Only a kilometre or so after the lake we arrived at our animal dung-filled campsite, where another couple had already set up. Later we would be joined by 2 locals and their herd of animals, adding to the paddies. We arrived just before 4 p.m., and within minutes the sun had sunk out of sight, taking the warmth with it. At 3,860 m, the elevation was lower than last night, so we hoped it wouldn't be quite so cold. We fell asleep to the sound of the river and the occasional cow wandering past.
Day 3
Distance: 14 km
Ascent: 60 m
Descent: 900 m
Sunlight streamed down the valley and hit our tent at 7 a.m. There was not a speck of frost in sight, making it much easier to emerge from our sleeping bags today. The warmth from the early sun was negated by a chilling breeze, but at least it was a tail wind. We left just after 8 a.m., continuing our walk along the river through the valley.
The terrain was an ever-changing mix of dusty soil, gravel, larger rocks, mud, grass, streams and animal poo, none of it particularly difficult. Four kilometres later we arrived at the main campsite for tour groups, where we found a shack selling snack food, sugary drinks and beer. Probably a good thing we didn't stay here, as we definitely would have raided it.
After we passed the halfway point, the wind died off, the sun intensified and the decline gradually increased. We spent several kilometres skirting along the edge of a mountain, with the river cascading forcefully in the valley below. The path was littered with unstable rockfall, causing us to wonder how safe this trail actually was. Even though the white peaks had all but vanished, the sheer size of the mountains overhead was astounding.
Trees and bushes reappeared as we lowered in altitude, adding another colour to the landscape besides brown. Before we knew it we had reached the end of the trail in Cashapampa, a village about the same size as Vaqueria. Luckily for us, a colectivo was sitting there waiting for hikers, and within 5 minutes we were being shuttled down to the town of Caraz, where we spent the night in relative luxury (i.e. an actual bed, a shower and solid walls).
Looking back over the 3 days, I am amazed at the scenery we hiked through. When I studied the map beforehand, I presumed we would be surrounded by snowy mountains almost the entire time. They were there, but usually blocked by bare mountains in the foreground. Although I wished there had been more white peaks to admire, especially on days 1 and 3, I felt lucky to have explored this region of the Cordillera Blanca mountain range.
