Traveling is exhausting. Adventure and cultural traveling is even more exhausting than your usual beach or camping vacation. Traveling in a language you don't even have a basic grasp of is headache-inducing. Traveling at altitude is exhausting. Traveling while sick is inherantly exhausting, and completely emotionally draining. Throwing all of yourself into a magical day at a place you never imagined you'd visit is thrilling, if not entirely exhausting.
I got up this morning, bright and early to go to the Isla Traquille. I asked for directions to the port from the hostel owner, and while he had been so helpful the night before, he lit into me about how crazy I was for trying to go without a tour, expecially since my spanish is SO horrible. Even after yesterday spent entirely on a bus driving from Cusco to Puno resting up from the dramatic efforts I made at Machu Picchu, I clearly had not recovered from my sickness and exhaustion. So someone calling me crazy, telling me how stupid I was, how much of an awful American who speaks no spanish I was... hitting at all of the things I feel like could be very, very true... I finally lost it. I ended up sleeping most of the day to stop from sobbing, reading a bit, and finally dragged my butt out of bed and made my way to a VERY gringo restaurant where I had an amazing eggplant parmasana style sandwich and chocolate caliente.
Luckily, it didn't start raining until I got back. It's hailing and dumping rain right now, thunder and lightning echoing in the distance. It¡s the first rain I've seen since I got to Peru, and damn it feels like home. The smell of it hitting the warm pavement, the sound of it on the plastic roof over the courtyard, the sparkling underneath the streetlamps. It feels like a little piece of Seattle.
So tomorrow I won't ask for directions. I know how to get to the port. I know how to ask for a ticket to the Isla Uros. I know how to manage my time, how to get food, how to get to the bus station, how to get through the last 4 days I have in Peru. I know that I can do this, as I have been doing it, even completely debilitated by 4 kinds of sickness. The well had simply run dry today, but maybe through a little food, a little chocolate, a little more sleep, and a little rain reminding me of home, there will be something there for me to pull from tomorrow.
Showing posts with label altitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label altitude. Show all posts
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Great Machu Picchu Orange Juice Disaster of 2011
So somehow I managed to not only get my ticket only three days in advance to Machu Picchu, but I was able to buy the pass up the smaller mountain, Wayna Picchu at the same time. This is the mountain you see at the end of the ruins in all the postcard photographs, and they only let 400 people up a day. My pass was for 7am, which made for an early morning.
Up at 4:30am after not being able to fall asleep for hours the night before, groggily stuffing my limbs into my decided outfit (after all, these photos will live forever...), I stumbled my way out of the hostel and down the block to queue for the 5:30 bus. I toted along some breakfast: yogurt, cookies, and a big tetrapack of orange juice. I drank the yogurt (it's all drinkable down here) and cracked my way into the OJ on the ride up, in the hopes of some easy sugars to jumpstart my body.
Once at Machu Picchu, I had an hour to take photos before the Wayanapicchu hike time started. Walking up a flight of stairs felt good and yet put me completely out of breath. I had acclimated finally to the altitude, but there is still very little oxygen up here. But the ruins are breathtaking too... It's more the setting than the actual structures, although they are extremely impressive. The Inca were clearly incredibly talented engineers.
After a few photos, I became nervous about finding my way to the hike starting point, and wandered over in the general direction. I got there early, but my entire mantra for the few days prior was to take it easy and not exhaust myself so that I could have energy for this day, and so I hung out at the gate for a bit, only a group of Japanese tourists ahead of me in line. When they started letting people in, I was number 7 through the gate.
God hiking felt good, and I quickly passed the group ahead of me. I could feel how much weaker my legs were than before this trip, but I pushed them to keep going. Wayna Picchu is basically a crazy staircase up the face of a cliff, and dammit it felt amazing as the view behind me developed and as I got closer to the lingering clouds clinging to the mountaintops.
Then I realized that I was alone. I couldn't hear anyone... Not a single footstep behind me. I reveled in that, at a wonder of the world, I was alone. Then it hit me that I could be the first to the top. Competitive Adrian hasn't been doing so well with this feebleness, and so that side of me took over.
It was about a switchback after this decision to power up the mountain, that I felt an odd drip on the back of my leg. I opened my little day pack to find a disaster--the orange juice container was slowly leaking from somewhere. My Spanish phrasebook was drenched as was my notepad that I'd been using as a journal. The liquid was sticky and sweet, covering the bottom of my bag, and seeping through to infiltrate my vest and shirt, not to mention my pants. I readjusted everything, but didn't ditch the OJ... Considering the mess already, it couldn't get that much worse. I tied a plastic bag around it and kept going, cursing the lost time and wondering how the heck no one had caught up to me yet.
Now I had to make time. The exhilaration of exercise combined with the ever-more staggering beauty unfolding around me, and possibly the lack of oxygen in my brain, was thrilling. A rest--no footsteps. A sign--25 minutes to the top, and so I would check my watch... 10 minutes, no one. 15, still alone but slowing down a lot. The cold that I had been trying to ignore threw me a coughing fit, so I had to stop and pull a cough drop from my bag, more time wasted!
As I was coming to the first real overlook, and becoming concerned that I had gone the wrong way, I heard voices. I pushed through the tiredness, took pictures on the sly and on the run, and scrambled through caves and tight places (you can't be fat, or wear a moderately sized backpack and fit through some of these nooks and crannies). I put some more distance between me and the voices. Then I could see the top. Breathing deep, I just put one foot ahead of the other. One more cave, and different voices behind me. Up the ladder, hand-breathe-foot-breathe, and I emerged into the sky.
The reason Machu Picchu is so worth it is simply the setting. You couldn't get more beautiful. I sat at the summit of Wayna Picchu as a young perfectly in shape couple came up the ladder, clearly disappointed that I, half sick, covered in sweat, orange juice, and about 12 layers of dirt, yet completely glowing from the exertion, had beaten them. I didn't give up my post as more people came up, I watched as the sun and wind blew the wisps of clouds around the thumb-like mountains, as the rivers churned and babbled so far below, as the ruins lay out before me like a promise.
Pictures were taken, and as the summit became crowded, I slipped back down the ladder, and found a place to just sit and watch the world. I sat there, drinking the entire remaining contents of my orange juice, pulling the entire contents of my bag out and literally pouring the leaked juice from my bag. Luckily, I had toilet paper to mop up the mess. Everything about me was filthy. I had scrambled up this cliff with everything I had, and it wasn't even 8am. I have never been so completely content, so completely at peace, so completely happy. At least not anytime in the last two weeks.
More to come later.
Up at 4:30am after not being able to fall asleep for hours the night before, groggily stuffing my limbs into my decided outfit (after all, these photos will live forever...), I stumbled my way out of the hostel and down the block to queue for the 5:30 bus. I toted along some breakfast: yogurt, cookies, and a big tetrapack of orange juice. I drank the yogurt (it's all drinkable down here) and cracked my way into the OJ on the ride up, in the hopes of some easy sugars to jumpstart my body.
Once at Machu Picchu, I had an hour to take photos before the Wayanapicchu hike time started. Walking up a flight of stairs felt good and yet put me completely out of breath. I had acclimated finally to the altitude, but there is still very little oxygen up here. But the ruins are breathtaking too... It's more the setting than the actual structures, although they are extremely impressive. The Inca were clearly incredibly talented engineers.
After a few photos, I became nervous about finding my way to the hike starting point, and wandered over in the general direction. I got there early, but my entire mantra for the few days prior was to take it easy and not exhaust myself so that I could have energy for this day, and so I hung out at the gate for a bit, only a group of Japanese tourists ahead of me in line. When they started letting people in, I was number 7 through the gate.
God hiking felt good, and I quickly passed the group ahead of me. I could feel how much weaker my legs were than before this trip, but I pushed them to keep going. Wayna Picchu is basically a crazy staircase up the face of a cliff, and dammit it felt amazing as the view behind me developed and as I got closer to the lingering clouds clinging to the mountaintops.
Then I realized that I was alone. I couldn't hear anyone... Not a single footstep behind me. I reveled in that, at a wonder of the world, I was alone. Then it hit me that I could be the first to the top. Competitive Adrian hasn't been doing so well with this feebleness, and so that side of me took over.
It was about a switchback after this decision to power up the mountain, that I felt an odd drip on the back of my leg. I opened my little day pack to find a disaster--the orange juice container was slowly leaking from somewhere. My Spanish phrasebook was drenched as was my notepad that I'd been using as a journal. The liquid was sticky and sweet, covering the bottom of my bag, and seeping through to infiltrate my vest and shirt, not to mention my pants. I readjusted everything, but didn't ditch the OJ... Considering the mess already, it couldn't get that much worse. I tied a plastic bag around it and kept going, cursing the lost time and wondering how the heck no one had caught up to me yet.
Now I had to make time. The exhilaration of exercise combined with the ever-more staggering beauty unfolding around me, and possibly the lack of oxygen in my brain, was thrilling. A rest--no footsteps. A sign--25 minutes to the top, and so I would check my watch... 10 minutes, no one. 15, still alone but slowing down a lot. The cold that I had been trying to ignore threw me a coughing fit, so I had to stop and pull a cough drop from my bag, more time wasted!
As I was coming to the first real overlook, and becoming concerned that I had gone the wrong way, I heard voices. I pushed through the tiredness, took pictures on the sly and on the run, and scrambled through caves and tight places (you can't be fat, or wear a moderately sized backpack and fit through some of these nooks and crannies). I put some more distance between me and the voices. Then I could see the top. Breathing deep, I just put one foot ahead of the other. One more cave, and different voices behind me. Up the ladder, hand-breathe-foot-breathe, and I emerged into the sky.
The reason Machu Picchu is so worth it is simply the setting. You couldn't get more beautiful. I sat at the summit of Wayna Picchu as a young perfectly in shape couple came up the ladder, clearly disappointed that I, half sick, covered in sweat, orange juice, and about 12 layers of dirt, yet completely glowing from the exertion, had beaten them. I didn't give up my post as more people came up, I watched as the sun and wind blew the wisps of clouds around the thumb-like mountains, as the rivers churned and babbled so far below, as the ruins lay out before me like a promise.
Pictures were taken, and as the summit became crowded, I slipped back down the ladder, and found a place to just sit and watch the world. I sat there, drinking the entire remaining contents of my orange juice, pulling the entire contents of my bag out and literally pouring the leaked juice from my bag. Luckily, I had toilet paper to mop up the mess. Everything about me was filthy. I had scrambled up this cliff with everything I had, and it wasn't even 8am. I have never been so completely content, so completely at peace, so completely happy. At least not anytime in the last two weeks.
More to come later.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Determination
If there's one thing I have, it's a stubborn streak. Deciding things can be tricky for me, but once I've made up my mind, there's not much going back. So, sometimes to my own detriment, I make up my mind to do something and just wait to see what will happen. Like right now, I feel worn out from a cold, but I'm determined to figure out how to get to Machu Pichu, so I walked to the tour office of a company a friend I met here is using to hike the Salkantay route. Unfortunately they had moved far enough that I didn't want to walk while still trying to recover energy, so I went back to the hostel where there are computers, pulled out my spanish dictionary and managed to communicate two VERY broken sentances over the company's online chat program to see if there was an opening. I think they are sending me information...
I am determined that I am going to trek this. No matter what my body may be thinking, I want to do what I intended to do when I left--which is hike. Luckily Cuzco is a pretty nice town, and hanging out here for a bit longer while I figure this out. If this falls through, there are a lot of other tour companies including one in my hostel. So here we go... I'm determined and my cold is just going to have to respond to my will. Or I may just be being a fool... who's GOING to Machu Pichu, come hell or high altitude.
I am determined that I am going to trek this. No matter what my body may be thinking, I want to do what I intended to do when I left--which is hike. Luckily Cuzco is a pretty nice town, and hanging out here for a bit longer while I figure this out. If this falls through, there are a lot of other tour companies including one in my hostel. So here we go... I'm determined and my cold is just going to have to respond to my will. Or I may just be being a fool... who's GOING to Machu Pichu, come hell or high altitude.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Overnight Adventure
My trip to colca canyon was definitely interesting... The bus driver was ranked one of the top 5 drivers tourstico, or at least so they said. The tour guide was great, speaking both English and Spanish. Within the first hour we had seen vicuñas in the reserve outside Arequipa (a wild south American cameloid, related to llama and alpaca). We climbed to 4900m (with a stop for matte de coca), and on the way, the guide gave us a lesson in how to chew coca leaves. I tried it (how scandalous!!) but mostly it just makes your mouth numb. Supposedly it helps with the altitude as well.
The scenery was amazing--deserts covered in grass and rocky outcroppings, not too unlike Eastern Washington, although ringed by snow-capped volcanoes.
And then we actually started climbing. Holy god. El elevatión no es mi amigo. I was huddled in the bus, light-headed and ready to puke my guts out by the time we traveled all the windy roads to the 4900m/16,000ft point. Coca helps, eh? Pffft, my sick ass it helps. At most of the stops past the pass i stayed in the bus. I think the driver and guide were minutes from giving me oxygen, but my fingernails weren't too blue. When we got into town for lunch, I stretched out in the minibus and napped, ate some crackers, and thanked my lucky stars that I brought my Nuun along.
I was feeling better, and managed to go to the hot pools (probably not the best idea, but oh such an "experience" and the warmness was lovely) and managed to eat some soup and share some stuff with another American girl on the same tour for dinner. Then I took advil for my caffeine headache since I didn't have coffee and went to bed at 8pm. I'm such a party animal.
Waking up at 4am to body pains, an awful headache and the realization that I had definitely eaten something wrong over the previous few days is not the way to enjoy a vacation. At this point, I realized there is probably not going to be a "treck" in me anytime soon, thus meaning that I don't get to go to Mach Pichu the fun ways. However, the inclusion of chewable pepto-bismal was easily the best packing decision I made.
However, I managed to rally. I got myself moderately capable of walking downstairs, grabbed one of the hollow rolls they have here for breakfast, and avoided the jam. The long, bumpy, unpaved ride up to the canyon was not perfect, but breaks along the way made it bearable. We got to the condor point, and almost immediately two adult condors buzzed us. That was as good as it got though, and taking photos of animals that blend in rather well is hard. The guide offered a short hike along the rim of the canyon and I bucked up, went slow, took deep breaths, and went for the hike without incident.
Lunch after the rickety bus ride back to Chivay seemed impossible, but soup here is usually really good, and they had chicken noodle on the menu. This time it did seem to make me feel better. I slept over the high elevation pass thanks to some of our tour-mates taking a different onward route. They had the bulk of the luggage, and without it I claimed the back of the bus bench seat, to no complaints. I think everyone understood.
Now I am back in Arequipa with my tour friend for one more day and take the night bus to Cuzco tomorrow. Hopefully I don't get another round of altitude (or food) related fun.
The scenery was amazing--deserts covered in grass and rocky outcroppings, not too unlike Eastern Washington, although ringed by snow-capped volcanoes.
And then we actually started climbing. Holy god. El elevatión no es mi amigo. I was huddled in the bus, light-headed and ready to puke my guts out by the time we traveled all the windy roads to the 4900m/16,000ft point. Coca helps, eh? Pffft, my sick ass it helps. At most of the stops past the pass i stayed in the bus. I think the driver and guide were minutes from giving me oxygen, but my fingernails weren't too blue. When we got into town for lunch, I stretched out in the minibus and napped, ate some crackers, and thanked my lucky stars that I brought my Nuun along.
I was feeling better, and managed to go to the hot pools (probably not the best idea, but oh such an "experience" and the warmness was lovely) and managed to eat some soup and share some stuff with another American girl on the same tour for dinner. Then I took advil for my caffeine headache since I didn't have coffee and went to bed at 8pm. I'm such a party animal.
Waking up at 4am to body pains, an awful headache and the realization that I had definitely eaten something wrong over the previous few days is not the way to enjoy a vacation. At this point, I realized there is probably not going to be a "treck" in me anytime soon, thus meaning that I don't get to go to Mach Pichu the fun ways. However, the inclusion of chewable pepto-bismal was easily the best packing decision I made.
However, I managed to rally. I got myself moderately capable of walking downstairs, grabbed one of the hollow rolls they have here for breakfast, and avoided the jam. The long, bumpy, unpaved ride up to the canyon was not perfect, but breaks along the way made it bearable. We got to the condor point, and almost immediately two adult condors buzzed us. That was as good as it got though, and taking photos of animals that blend in rather well is hard. The guide offered a short hike along the rim of the canyon and I bucked up, went slow, took deep breaths, and went for the hike without incident.
Lunch after the rickety bus ride back to Chivay seemed impossible, but soup here is usually really good, and they had chicken noodle on the menu. This time it did seem to make me feel better. I slept over the high elevation pass thanks to some of our tour-mates taking a different onward route. They had the bulk of the luggage, and without it I claimed the back of the bus bench seat, to no complaints. I think everyone understood.
Now I am back in Arequipa with my tour friend for one more day and take the night bus to Cuzco tomorrow. Hopefully I don't get another round of altitude (or food) related fun.
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