Schlink Attack: Hiking Vinicunca (Rainbow Mountain)

In the wee hours of the morning, I paced the floor waiting for the van to pick me up. Already wearing four of my five layers of clothing I had horrendous thoughts of my body freezing to the core while hiking Rainbow Mountain. The cold, I reasoned, was more because I was anxious and sleepless. Surely the van ride would be toasty. They picked me up first and the van arrived to two other hotels in pitch black. I closed my eyes willing myself to sleep since this drive would be about 3.5 hours, and there would be nothing to see. Except that I couldn't. I was too cold and too jittery, drifting in and out of icky sleep haze. Around 4am the van crashed to a halt after a rear tire went flat. A moment of stillness was followed by a deep breath and the hasty application of a headlamp as the driver and guides climbed out to change out the tire. Hearing the struggle of the battery powered air pump, I hoped they worked their magic, and fifteen minutes later with a few false starts the van lumbered on.

The break of dawn meant I could visualize the dirt road as we clambered through the Andes. I almost wished I hadn't, with a plunging ravine on one side and towering claustrophobic mountain on the other. And with summer construction coming to an end, the multiple bridges that would carry us across creek beds consisted of lashed planks of wood. The driver had to aim very carefully and at other times had to detour up the mountain side to get across. No worse for wear, we arrived to the trailhead around 6:00am with demands to use the three free standing bathrooms and promises of hot breakfast at a house down the hill. No electricity, no heat, no running water- but no matter, the people living here are well suited to the environment. Most of the locals wear sandals for crying out loud! They prepared a tasty and simple meal to set us on the right foot: flatbread and jam, plantains, scrambled eggs and tea. By this time I had already re-applied every single item of clothing and even resorted to turning a pair of extra socks into leg warmers.

The sun has magical properties, this I am certain. I understood why people used to worship the sun the moment the sun peeked over the crest, highlighting the 21,000+ foot snowcapped mountain named Ausangate. Though still cold, I became a new woman, feeling pretty awesome among the hundreds of alpacas resting by the houses. A few courtesies were exchanged between the alpacas and myself and up we went. Almost immediately I was huffing and puffing, but happy to be hiking at 7:00am along the fresh water stream, past the first mess of rocks and steepness. The hike ought to take 3 hours to summit and 2 to get down. By this time I wondered what the kids, Mark and Josh were doing, but I didn't have time to dwell because I needed to focus. Our guide told us explicitly that falling down wasn't allowed. I thought for me that was a tall order, but I was determined to make it.

Hiking through the valley at our first respite of level ground, farmers, and horses passed us on their way down, cheerful in the morning sun. We saw herds of alpacas across the river and even on the ridges way above us. Our guide mentioned something about mountain lions being a problem up here which I found surprising. The many dogs along the trail were the solution to protecting the farmer's stocks. They also made great hiking company, more so than the token horse named Poncho Rojo who hiked with us (someone in our group rented the horse to ride when she got tired) He made a big crabby deal out of my taking his picture and probably would have flipped me off if he had fingers. So I steered clear of him altogether.

Every so often we would stop to regroup and rest. My resting heart rate sat at 100 and quickly jumped to 144 when I began hiking, so I was pleased that my heart wasn't going to explode. My lungs however were definitely working over time. Thank god for a long history of tortuously boring controlled breathing exercises I did as an aspiring musician a million years ago. I could recenter myself and keep going. My knees didn't like it, but I didn't care. Most of the way I had a children's Brazilian song about a girl named Mariana counting from 1-10 stuck in my head which drove me mad, and my singing caught the attention of one of the guides. His wife is Brazilian and they have a three year old daughter, a romantic tale that began in Lima a few years back.

The song was forgotten when I hiked up the final 100 yards where a stone enclave had been erected to direct hikers. Yes the view was great, but I still couldn't see the telltale idyllic bilateral slope of the mountain that all the tourist agencies displayed. This mountain was actually an extinct volcano and the rich elements within the earth give the vivid stripes of reds, blues, greens and yellows. (Only two other mountains are known to have this unique characteristic: Hornocal mountain range outside a town called Humahuaca, Argentina; and in the Zhangye Danxia Landform Geological Park in Gansu, China.) In order to get that view, I had a few hundred more feet to climb beyond the walls. To the left I climbed onto dusty, crumbling white trail where the pieces all fell into place at 16,490 feet. The 365 degree view of the area was perfect: Ausangate behind me, endless red and fierce mountains to my right, Vinicunca (Rainbow Mountain) in front, and the steep valley from which we came to the left. I enjoyed my moments of solitude and photo taking before the crowd of "late arrivals" swarmed up to bask in their own victory.

As all good things must come to an end, we regathered and hiked back down. I didn't enjoy this one bit with my knees screaming and toes red hot in my hiking boots. The good news was I saw things I hadn't noticed on the way up. Like the psoriasis-like plaques of vivid green lichen growing on volcanic rocks rising from within the mountain; the groups of farmers sunning themselves among their herds; the hundreds fuzzy black and orange caterpillars racing across the trails. The place had its own definite sweetness. And harshness.

At last I arrived to the house where we ate breakfast. Lunch was being prepared, so the group splayed themselves out in the dry grass for final relaxation, because we'd soon realize our meal was a whole other sort of exercise: soup, garlic bread, grilled chicken breast, noodles, vegetables, white rice, spaghetti pie and a last round of tea. All that food went in my belly, and then it was time to head back along the winding dirt roads leading to Cusco. Exhausted, I managed a shower before collapsing into bed, with a grin on my face knowing Mark and Josh would get to do this adventure the following day.