Before landing in Lima I'd been able to watch from the plane every second of the approach to South America's east coast - beaches then rivers, rainforests, blue and red Sim city rooftops. Not long before the coastline there was a strange, cyclone-shaped standalone cloud with its own rainbow. Arrived at The Point hostel in Barranco, Lima and was immediately welcomed into this massive fraternity-type house. Pool, pingpong, bar, music, garden, cafe, free breakfast. A great bunch of people - climbers, surfers, teachers. Barranco's soundtrack was constant car alarms, birds, aeroplanes, barking dogs. On my first day a few of us walked to the end of Barranco's beach full of literally thousands of people to a giant, Wickerman style cross which is lit up at night along with other religious statues and monuments and churches. Every other day, thick fog rolled in completely obscuring the sea and the rest of the city from view. This was interspersed with strong sun. Burnt my legs on the beach when it was overcast!
So a very fun, happy week spent in Barranco before I boarded a bus to Huaraz, in the mountainous Cordillera Blanca region. My first bus ride in Peru, I nearly fell out of my seat when a uniformed bus hostess incongruously came around handing out newspapers, aviation-style hot dinner trays and hot drinks as we drove past miles and miles of slums built into every crevice of the sandy mountains surrounding Lima, the driest capital after Cairo. Once out of the massive city, the land rose abruptly from the sea like one massive glorified sand dune with some optimistic vertical planks planning on keeping it all in its place, as we teetered on the edge, crawling along at a snail's pace with the other buses and trucks heading north. Once inland we inched through smoking valleys with a tumbling river running through. Winding higher we became engulfed in fog so thick you could just about see the two feint lights of oncoming vehicles and nothing more. The windows were dripping with condensation having travelled from 27*c to 7*c in a few short hours.
When the bus arrived in Huaraz it was 4am, and finding a place to stay I had my first taste of high altitude as I puffed my way around town with my new commission-earning pal I'd managed to pick up, or rather he'd picked me up, the usual business. My original hostel choice had closed for the low season and after viewing a couple, I happily ended up with my own basic room for a few pounds, complete with en-suite, at the top of the town. Not that I slept much, altitude interferes with sleep, makes your jaw crunch and knees seize up, at least I hope it was the cause.
Low season in Huaraz limited my choices more than I thought. So many of the trekking companies had closed. I did find one, which took me to the beautiful, turquoise Laguna Llangunuco in a glacial valley below the snow line, where I was able to touch Huascaran, Peru's highest mountain at 6,768m, after our visits to Yungay and Caraz en route, in a vehicle with not much on foot. So much Andean colour on the way; labouring women wearing tall, wide-brimmed hats decorated on one side, bright tops with multi-coloured cardigans, puffy, frilled skirts, bright leggings and leather shoes, complete with equally fluorescent papooses containing bricks, branches or babies. Men lounged in jeans and t-shirts. There were hardly any other vehicles winding through the endless agriculture completely dominating the steep slopes, so green and fresh and clean, field afer field of corn, alfalfa, flowers. Clay brick abodes, ducklings following dogs, tethered sheep fighting, pigs, horses, donkeys, children in wheelbarrows. Made friends with Peruvian music teacher and some Mexicans.
Low season in Huaraz limited my choices more than I thought. So many of the trekking companies had closed. I did find one, which took me to the beautiful, turquoise Laguna Llangunuco in a glacial valley below the snow line, where I was able to touch Huascaran, Peru's highest mountain at 6,768m, after our visits to Yungay and Caraz en route, in a vehicle with not much on foot. So much Andean colour on the way; labouring women wearing tall, wide-brimmed hats decorated on one side, bright tops with multi-coloured cardigans, puffy, frilled skirts, bright leggings and leather shoes, complete with equally fluorescent papooses containing bricks, branches or babies. Men lounged in jeans and t-shirts. There were hardly any other vehicles winding through the endless agriculture completely dominating the steep slopes, so green and fresh and clean, field afer field of corn, alfalfa, flowers. Clay brick abodes, ducklings following dogs, tethered sheep fighting, pigs, horses, donkeys, children in wheelbarrows. Made friends with Peruvian music teacher and some Mexicans.
I'd organised my journey to surf town Huanchaco near Trujillo to coincide with the return to Huaraz, and after a nine hour bus ride surrounded by an amazing pig snore cacophony, I pitched my tent near the beach at dawn. Lay in hammock for two days and read book. There were two groups of musicians who also shared the campground. Guitar, muted trumpet and 4am bongo later ('there's always some **** with a bongo'), I didn't sleep much more until I returned to the beloved Point in Barranco two days later for a two-day stopover en route to Cusco.
