ISOLATION & ICE

Peru’s Cordillera Huayhuash is a spectacular domain of tropical glaciers, turquoise lakes and soaring condors. Peter Elia leaves the crowds of the Inca Trail behind and embarks on one of the world’s highest hikes.

“Are you going to hike the Inca Trail?” asked my curious taxi driver outside Lima airport, as I heaved my pack into the boot. “Er, no,” I replied. “I’m travelling to Huaraz tomorrow to trek the Huayhuash Circuit.”

He shrugged. I wasn’t sure whether he hadn’t heard of the Huayhuash Circuit – a challenging 81 mile loop of high altitude peaks – or just thought I was mad for attempting it. When it comes to Peru, most international travellers are happier to limit their hiking aspirations to the famous Inca Trail. But while the ancient citadel of Machu Picchu draws ever larger crowds, countless other breathtaking mountains in this Andean nation remain almost untouched. In fact, the trekking possibilities are myriad.

Two days later, I joined a small group of UK based hikers and our enthusiastic young guides, Yummer and Renaldo. Lying ahead of us was a demanding twelve days on foot, encompassing 5,700 metres of ascent. We would need a couple of days to acclimatise before attempting the circuit, during which time we made a practice climb to Laguna 69 (‘Lake 69’) at 4,600 metres. The route up was steep, but tougher still was my first experience of altitude. Approaching the lake, my body felt increasingly heavy and my head was pounding like I had a bad hangover. It was a concern… would I be able to cope?

Mind Games

Huayhuash is pronounced ‘why-wash’ – which is perfectly apt, considering none of us would see a shower for the next twelve days. Our journey would traverse eight mountain passes, all between 4,600 and 5,000 metres in altitude, with most of the walking done at a dizzying 4,000 metres plus.

This was unknown territory for me, both physically and mentally. I had never hiked at these altitudes before, or even camped continuously for this length of time. At the tiny village of Pocpa where we prepared to set out, I wondered what version of me would appear on the other side. Zen-like and in tune with the natural world? Or broken and dishevelled, suffering from sleep deprivation and perhaps – worse still – the dreaded altitude sickness? I often doubt my fitness like this at the start of a new journey, and there are moments when imposter syndrome kicks in – only to realise later that no one else could care less.

The first few days eased me into the rhythms of mountain life. I would wake up around 6am, with Yummer or Renaldo pressing a cup of mate de coca (coca tea) into my grateful, chilled hands. The tea tasted pleasant enough – it reminded me of green tea – but there was something different about this brew; it seemed to give a welcoming boost of vitality. Yummer explained that it was made using local coca plant leaves, the same species from which cocaine is derived. “But it’s legal in many parts of South America,” he added, “and it’s an important natural plant to indigenous people. Drinking or chewing the coca leaves will increase your energy and help with altitude sickness.”

In The Shadow Of Giants

At dawn on day four, with coca tea already in hand and covered in more layers than a Russian doll, it was time to leave the relative warmth of my tent. I headed down to the Carhuacocha lake to drink in the nearby scenery and observe the magic of the Cordillera Huayhuash during sunrise. The glaciated tops of Jirishanca, Yerupajá, Yerupajá Chico and the region’s most infamous peak, Siula Grande, gradually illuminated and turned to shimmering gold. Many will recognise the name Siula Grande for its role in the book (and film) Touching the Void. For those unfamiliar with the story, two young British climbers, Joe Simpson and Simon Yates, set out in 1985 to be the first to use the West Face to reach this 6,300 metre summit. They succeed, and then embark on the treacherous descent down – only to meet with disaster when Simpson breaks his leg in a fall, leaving Yates to lower him the rest of the way with ropes. When a storm threatens both their lives, Yates

“Our journey would traverse eight mountain passes, all between 4,600 and 5,000 metres in altitude, with most of the walking done at a dizzying 4,000 metres” must decide whether to cut the rope and risk Simpson’s likely death.

I could see Suila Grande straight ahead. It looked terrifying even in glorious sunshine. This jagged snow-capped fortress is no place for a hiker like me – or most climbers for that matter. If I found myself complaining of challenging circumstances along the route, I vowed to think of the hardships endured in Touching the Void and count myself lucky.

Into Thin Air

The trek was about to get tougher. The middle section of the Huayhuash Circuit is the most challenging, involving back-toback passes (Cuyoc and San Antonio) at the 5,000-metre mark, accompanied by steep ascents. Sure enough, the last 300 metres to the top of San Antonio felt like walking the wrong way up an escalator. For all my effort, I wasn’t gaining much ground. The sharp incline, together with loose rocks of different shapes and sizes, hampered my progress.

As the air began to thin, my lungs tightened intensely. The rocks underfoot were becoming increasingly icy, and a thick layer of snow covered the final 50 metres of the climb. Up ahead, my fellow hikers resembled a herd of Bambis on ice; I wasn’t faring any better. With the finish line in sight and still gasping for oxygen, the pain in my lungs was joined by a sharp twinge in both knees, and when I finally reached the top of the saddle I was too exhausted even to offer up a celebratory fist bump to Renaldo. I paused with hands on hips, blinking the sweat from my eyes and looking up to the heavens.

High as we were, snowy grey peaks towered still further overhead in the blazing sunshine, and I was struck by the utter remoteness of this landscape. Unlike the Inca Trail, which these days is littered with hotels and restaurants, there were no signs of civilisation anywhere, just an incredible sense of isolation. It was like I’d passed through to a secret land that had somehow evaded the attention of most of the outside world.

El C Ndor Pasa

Towards the end of our journey, two blurry objects moved gracefully towards me. My first thought was that the coca tea that day must have been more potent than usual. Then they came into focus: two condors, swooping majestically right above. Their enormous wingspan and the dexterity with which they soared in the thermals was jaw dropping. Possibly they had chicks nesting close by and saw our group as a threat. We kept moving, and as the pair flew away, I gazed around at a 360-degree vista of every 6,000-metre mountain in Huayhuash.

I was now sure that I would finish the trail in one piece, but the experience had been humbling. The Huayhuash Circuit is a truly exceptional alpine trek that lies entirely above the tree line and will test any hiker’s fitness to the limit. Environmentally, however, there is far more at stake. Our guides explained that these magnificent glaciers are melting due to climate change; reversing their decline –and managing the effects of global warming more generally – will be the current century’s defining problem.

If these glaciers cease to exist, there will be no lakes – and without lakes, there will be no condors. I’ve been lucky enough to trek in some of the most beautiful and remote parts of the world, but as pristine as places like the Huayuash appear, I now realise that nowhere is untouched by the environmental crisis. And that without action, no trail will last forever.