In the Andes, There’s a Deadly Chase for Luxury

Their faces are among the sweetest of the camelids and their fiber is by far the most precious. But the once critically endangered vicuña is at the forefront of a violent battle in Peru.

Story and Photos by Linda N. Cortright

If you happen to find yourself traveling along the road to Colca Canyon in Peru, which is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon and where tourists migrate to see the great Andean condor, you don’t want to miss stopping at Tambo Cañahuas. Most people pause there just long enough to get gas, buy a souvenir, and wolf down a cup of coca tea to ward off the effects of the high altitude, which dances above 15,000 feet with ease. But if you’re interested in the local fiber scoop, look no further than the kid in the dark blue baseball cap riding a 10-speed bicycle – he’ s a “ cop.” He may not look like one of the men in blue you see at Dunkin’ Donuts, but he carries a gun and he will use it.

A variety of vicuña in the reserve.

Without a car, a motorcycle, or so much as an imported yak to carry him over the Andean pampas, the bronzed kid with the crooked smile is charged with patrolling nearly 1 million acres of the Salinas Aguada Blanca Reserve with only a set of sturdy lungs and youthful determination. He is one of a half dozen men in the area who, for the sake of argument, represent the vicuña vice squad.

A member of the vicuña vice squad outside the rest stop in Tambo Cañahuas.

There has never been a law created by man that hasn’t been broken by man, however, and not surprisingly, there is a healthy trade in black market vicuña. It’s not known how many kilos surreptitiously cross the border with no papers, no passport, and no hint of authentication. But according to the kid with the two-wheeler, the most recent episode in the reserve involved two poachers on motorcycles.

A curious vicuña by the side of the road in the reserve.