Peruvian Paso Horseback Fun

I have been fascinated with Peruvian Paso Horses since I first saw them in Trujillo two years ago. This is a horse that has been bred with a distinctive gait and is known for its smooth ride and amiable nature.

As one who has watched her share of cowboy movies, and even tried riding on occasion, seeing one of these horses being ridden is a rather otherworldly experience. The riders seem to almost float, with none of the up and down motion at play.

I wanted to know what it was like to ride one of these remarkable beasts.

Today I got the chance. Outside of town there is a man who raises these horses and I arranged to go by horseback to a ruin located in the hills outside of town.

Imagine if you can the romance of being met by a wizened old vaquiero (cowboy) and led through cobblestoned streets to awaiting horses. Metal stirrups are replaced by square leather footholds, the saddles intricately tooled and the tack included romal reins.

A quick boost up and I was following the leader through the cobblestoned roads and on the path out of town. We followed the river up the valley quite a ways while my host greeted and conversed with the locals as we passed. Once we cleared the trickle of small homes the road widened, and then the real fun began for me.

My host had until this point kept me at a walk, which was not what I had come for. When the road widened I passed him and encouraged my ride to speed up. My expectation that the gait would be exceptional was played out... wow, it was wonderful, so smooth and effortless. I would pull up and let my party catch up, and then gallop away again. What a blast. I think my smile must have been a mile wide.

Came the point when we left the road, crossed the river and headed up towards the ruins. As we rose above the valley we passed bulls and donkeys grazing at the side of the path, and to my delight we passed lovely, time grazed elderly women and men near their fields, all of whom were greeted respectfully in Quechua.

Throughout it all my mount showed independent spirit while consistently listening to my prompts. This is a prized characteristic of the Peruvian Paso horse, and knowing this it allowed me the confidence to ride more easily and boldly than ever before. What a blast.

Reaching the ruins required some steep riding, and while the ruins were extensive I will admit to not paying much attention to them... the ride down was calling.

Down is definitely harder on the butt. Days later and I am still feeling it.

Retracing our way back to Ollentaytambo allowed me more opportunities to gallop away, although I think this worried my host some. Clop, clop, clop over the cobblestones and through the alleyways and it was good bye to these great creatures.

What a fun fantasy of a day.

ollentaytambo

This lovely little town from which my adventure have been based also boasts its own official ruins. These are covered under what is known as the boleto turistico, or tourist ticket, which is the only way to get into a group of historical entities here in the Cusco area. Whether or not you are interested in most of the ruins etc. you must purchase this ticket.

Since I possess such a ticket I was welcomed into the ruins for a turn about. Part of the ruins are pre-Inca, although these are cordoned off from the masses. The rest of the ruins consist of the requisite terracing, some interesting housing and what looks like would have been some kind of temple. Hard to know because the town was overrun by the Spanish before it could be completed.

What is astounding is the sheer size of the stones used for the temple area, and that they were able to bring these mammoth blocks from the mountains across the river, over the valley and up the hillside to their positions on the mountain high above the town. The stones are faced with carved protrusions in no discernable pattern, although with so many left enroute and unfinished we will never know for sure.

There are a couple of ruins located high on the hills overlooking the temple, and they require a fair hike up to reach them. Off I went following a trail, which came to a fork with no signage. I chose left, which had me winding around and up for quite a distance. Once the track petered out (well past the scary spiders, geckos, butterflies, weird ants and donkey poop) it became apparent that right was the correct avenue, and this required a turnabout.

Of course by this time the sun had appeared, and I was well on my way to scorched. I found a white plastic bag in my backpack, wrapped it around my head (instant sunhat) and continued on. Once on the correct path it was not too long before I was again looking down upon most of the ruins in the area. Really cool, actually.

This portion of ruins was small, mostly what looked like an alter and caretakers area. There was a convenient bench provided for a rest, and after some rehydration it was a reverse trek back to explore the balance of the site.

All in all not a bad days schlepping, sunburn aside. I believe on facebook I have declared that soon my face will be like tanned leather. I will regret it one day, no doubt. But not today.

Spent a little time in and out of the various shops in town on my way back to the hostal, stopping to overeat at a nice place on the way. Whether it was sunstroke, or whether another reoccurrence of the tummy trouble bug I am not sure but I was down for the count.

Yet again another full, fun day.

Machu Picchu

Who knew a trip down memory lane would be so expensive? The cost of my admission and transportation was included the last time I made the journey as part of the Inca Trail trek, so I was less than prepared for the outlay.

But down memory lane I had decided to go, and the day started with a 5am rise from a dead sleep, a 5:20 quick bite to eat the breakfast left out by my host the night before, and a 5:30 dazed walk to the train station. Inside the gate there was a coffee bar, which I utilized in order to down the coffee I would need to wake up. I mean it was a very, very deep sleep.

The boarding of the train was organized and efficient, and we left more or less on time. I was very glad the decision had been made to pay the extra $3 for upgraded seats. This also included a beverage and snack, although the coffee and stale cookies were nothing to write home about.

The start to the day was nice and the view of the gorge through which the train route travelled was stunning. Most of my last journey here was done in darkness. There was lingering evidence of the rail closures of the past couple of years when the river rose high and washed out the tracks.

Upon arrival at the town of Aguas Calientes (the name meaning hot waters, for some thermal baths located in the area) there was a maze of mostly closed market stalls to navigate, and it was easy to get turned around looking for the exit and the way to the cultural centre where the tickets to the ruins themselves are sold. A passport is required to purchase the tickets, which I did for the hefty price of nearly $50. Then there was the short-lived search to buy the tickets for the bus to transport all of us tourists who chose not to walk up to the ruins. Another peek at my passport and I was allowed to spend the $31. to use their services.

A hop, skip and a jump later a seat was procured and the bus did depart. Up, up, up... a long, winding, switchback road that scared silly anyone unwise enough to actually look down, especially when busses had to pass on what is essentially a one lane road.

There was a surprisingly short line-up to get into the ruins. I expected a crowd, but then the option of staying over and trying to catch the sunrise by lining up at 4am for the first bus at 6am had been easily discarded, and I suppose the crowd had more or less already been through.

And so I once again found myself roaming the lost city of the Inca. I certainly never anticipated a return journey here, but there was much I was too tired to take in on my previous visit. Then I had legs of jelly after 4 days of trekking, and was on auto pilot. This time I arrived with legs, lungs and health more or less intact.

As most people took the path leading up to the heights of the ruins, I chose a path that countered and descended to the lower ruins. This was done mainly to avoid the crowds, and because I dislike feeling like a herded sheep. The sun shone down for the first hour of roaming before the expected clouds rolled in and rain ponchos sprouted.

Sauntering across the lower terracing to the temple of the sun area I looked for the alpaca that are set to graze to keep the grass controlled, but there were none about. From time to time I listened in on the guides speaking to the various tour groups, and realized that a lot of the information given was contradictory... I mean this is the lost city, with there is no one about who knows the inside story.

Walked the temple of the three windows, saw the sun dial and the temple of the condor, but I enjoyed most just wandering the nooks and crannies left out by the tours. Followed overgrown pathways, walked the extensive gardens, imagined living in the residential complexes and wondered how it must have felt to be a prisoner chained and tortured in the prison area.

Looking out at the masses of terracing I tried to envision the multitude it must have taken to tend the crops to maintain the population. There are new terraces being unearthed every year, and when a good look is taken at the jungle vegetation that surrounds the complex I suppose we will never find them all.

One thing I missed then was the path to the Inca Bridge. Long, narrow and built into the cliffs high above the gorge, those with a fear of heights should beware. Until recently you could actually walk across the bridge, but it was closed when a tourist took a tumble. The path was a back door that met up with the Inca Trail network, and is thought to have been an escape route. A collapse of the path about 50 meters past the bridge means it is no longer possible to walk this back door, even if the authorities found a way to keep tourists from falling to their deaths.

Sigh. Another opportunity lost. For a trek.

I walked back up the path to the Sun Gate. It is here that the trekkers of the Inca Trail hope to watch the sun rise over Machu Picchu. Two years ago I was one such individual, although the lost city was elusive and shrouded in clouds. This time was no different, but as then I did not mind because I was lost in thought, and in the beauty of the terracing in the mists. The air here in the cloud that rises from below is heavy and settles in your mouth and throat. It tastes elemental.

I sat for a while facing back along the trail and remembered bits of what was essentially the turning point of my life. How different a woman I am today. Then was a desperate and black time, now a time of strength and acceptance. Then I felt alone, and now I know I am loved.

Lightened by reflection, it is a relaxed and enjoyable walk back to the ruins, and with the skies having cleared there was time for a last long look at this destination of a lifetime for so many. Now smelly and exhausted after a full 8 hours wandering and exploring it was an easy decision to skip walking down the Incan Stairs to Aguas Calientes.

Somewhere along the line there was someone intelligent who decided that it was ok to allow visitors to carry a small pack into the ruins. This was much appreciated because I was able to carry in enough food and drink to keep the energy up for the full days fun. Most people do not abuse this privilege, but here and there was evidence of ignorance. When will idiots learn to respect that which is not theirs?

Down at the base of the mountain the river was roiling... the rapids massive and displaying a frightening power. It is not surprising that the rail lines and farms are washed away. Photos will not do it justice, although an effort was made.

Another ode to inhumanity was on display at a roadside gift shop, where a tiny monkey was tied up to a wooden beam. It was pacing back and forth, agitated, and obviously wanted to get away. Why wasn't it allowed to stay in the surrounding jungle and just be?

After ignoring the aggressive restaurant touts (found in every tourist area and city) I sat down for what turned out to be an expensive cup of really crappy coffee. Ick.

Back to the train station, where there was an earlier train getting set to depart. The door attendant was having no part in letting the empty seats be filled, and it was to a seat in the waiting area for me. The area filled with people, and I am sorry to say the loudest and most obnoxious of them were Israelis. At one point in the ladies room I got to listen in while two of them, young, badmouthed their friends and the tourists around them. Didn't have much nice to say about me, but it seemed rather pointless to let them know I understood what they were saying.

Once boarded and on our way it soon became evident that there was something quite wrong. The train barely made it out of crawl, and after an hour and a half of trying the engine filled the cars with smoke and gave up the ghost. Took some time to bring in a replacement, and I was glad I had provisions left from the day because once again we were served bad beverages and cookies.

My planned stop at Hearts Cafe for a hot bowl soup didn't happen because we arrived long past closing. Just a note about this Cafe. It was started as a project to employ locals and raise funds to support programs in the high mountain communities. Great place, great food and friendly people. They do good work.

After a full, full day exhaustion set in and after the short stroll (thankfully) back to the hostal, I enjoyed a welcome hot shower and a soft comfy bed.

Tomorrow... another great day was planned.

Great start to the week

There are some pretty impressive ruins on the mountainside above the Hostal. They are not part of the "official" Ollytentambo ruins and so can be climbed and investigated at leisure. (If you call scrambling up a mountainside leisurely)

After dropping my things in my room I followed my hosts' advice and walked down the alley until just passed the ceramic shop, turned left and went up the stone stairs... and just started climbing. Easy path to the first ruin, not so easy path to the next, and then pretty much off the path and upward from there. When the time came to look down and over, well didn't I just about swoon at how high I was. Way above the ruins accross the valley and well away from the original target. Took pictures, decided enough was enough for the day (sun was getting close to setting) and carefully picked my way down the shale covered incline.

Was treated to the sight of a curious and busy hummingbird, this one iridescent blue. Tried the photo thing... you all know how successful I am with it.

A walk down to purchase rail tickets for the train to Aguas Calientes, a town at the base of Machu Picchu Mountain. There was room for Monday which fit the schedule perfectly.

Excellent start to the week.

Dinner was pizza (how Peruvian), and after a full day of travel and hiking I made for an early nights sleep.

Also early was the start to the next days activity, a trip to Chinchero. After an early am breakfast I was introduced to the gent that was to take, wait and return. The trip involved an ascent of almost 1000 meters to this small town which is known for its authentic market, especially on Sundays when the locals descend from the hills in full native dress.

On our way we passed a couple of very swanky resorts in Urubumba (think $250 per night minimum), not someplace that I choose to waste money that can be spent trekking. I also noted the signs for Salinas and Moray, two places to visit on a beautiful day hike. This I did last time I was in the area, but I would like a return visit just to see if the incredible energy I felt was just my imagination at the time.

The market at Chinchero was smaller than I expected, but the ambience did not disappoint. There were rows of stalls selling all manner of local produce surrounded by vendors selling weaving and other tourist related items. Bartering was definitely the name of the game... all done respectfully and with smiles. I am now the proud owner of some hand made dolls, hand painted pottery and multicoloured woven wool blanket/cover. This last item I bought when the woman I had been bartering with followed me to the car and agreed to my price.

Now I will HAVE to decorate the guest room.

The market is not the sole attraction in Chinchero. There is also extensive terracing that surrounds the ruins of what was an Inca town. As per the custom of the day, the ruins were torn down and a catholic church built upon its foundations. I know it was something that was done 500 years ago, but I get aggravated each time I see it. Over and over and over. I took some photos of just how incredibly fit the original stonework is... the precision is amazing.

After wandering the terraces and ruins for an hour or so it was back to the cab and a descent back to town and the hostal. Should have remembered that most things would be closed Sunday, so I had a bit of a challenge finding food supplies for the day at Machu Picchu, which I wanted to do because I remembered how expensive it is once you are there. Water, Gatoraide, Sprite, Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, granola bars and fruit. All set.

Got my little alarm unit set for a 5am start and was asleep by 9. This being over 50 thing means adjustments to what "night life" represents.

I am stoked.

I have a list

Having made the decision to abandon Cusco for lower altitudes and less chaos, I sorted belongings so that only a minimal amount need be schlepped around for the next week. Left a bag at the hostal (under lock & key) and headed out for a morning coffee before catching a combi. Walked the short distance to the main plaza and was disconcerted to find it brimming over with thousands of people there to celebrate the “happiness of the baby” day. After spending some time trying to decode the multitude of waving signs it became apparent that it was in fact an anti-abortion rally.

With armies of school children still arriving in front of the Cathederal to join more nuns than I have ever seen, a quick exit was made and coffee procured. On to the combi station and a fairly uneventful 2 hour ride to the Incan town of Ollytaytambo.

This is one of the jewels of the area known as the Sacred Valley, and is one of the few remaining functional Incan cities. I have never visited this area, but had passed through briefly two years ago on the way to the starting point of the Inca Trail.

Walking through the old alleyways and up to the hostal was a delight. There were stone walls and stairways, stone streets and swiftly flowing water in ancient water channels. The hostal is located at the end of one such street, and through the low wooden doorway I found yet another gem. Family owned and operated, kids running around, laundry fluttering in the breeze… and a room that has a doorway opening on to a magnificent view of the ancient abandoned ruins and fabulous Incan terracing. Wow.

From here will be based all my wanderings. I have a list.

Chinchero

Local ruins

Moray and Salinas

Pisac

Urubamba

Local Caves

Peruvian Paso Horseback riding

Machu Picchu

I also have much Robaxicet. Will be needed. Good thing my hiking boots are broken in.

On to Cusco

There is a reason it is a good idea to keep up with blog posting, mainly that I have a memory like a sieve and so too much is lost, much too quickly.

The balance of the time I spent in Arequipa is just such an example. I walked, strolled and toured. I went to the casino. I took many photos of the volcanoes surrounding town. I missed my flight to Cusco.

Yep, you heard right. I, Linda, intrepid and experienced world traveller, got the dates mixed up in my head. Should have listened to that little voice that said “are you sure the flight is on the 1^st?”, but noooo I relied on my memory. See above note about my memory.

The result of this rookie mistake was a mad dash to the bus station and a 10 hour night time bus ride through pitch black, high Andean mountains over a dirt road. Nerves abounded because I had read warnings in numerous places about this route being subjected to hijackings and robberies. But after weighing the odds (many nightly busses by different companies and only a few incidents per year) I snuggled down in the sleeper seats, and pulled into Cusco at about 8am.

Went straight to the hostal, and after profuse apologies for missing their airport pickup and first nights’ accommodation all was well.

Well, except for the altitude thing. You wouldn’t think a few thousand feet would make a huge difference, what with most of my time in Peru sitting at more than 7000 of them, but alas my body thought differently. Add in this bug that has plagued me for the last couple of weeks (and kept me from my planned trekking in Arequipa) and my time in Cusco was kept to a minimum.

Saw some old sights, and a couple I missed last time… mainly small ruins. I found a place that makes excellent coffee, listened to some really obnoxious tourists and was reminded how friggin cold this high, damp city gets at night.

So I found myself once again apologising to the hostal as I packed up and vacated to spend a week in an alternate location in the Sacred Valley. Too bad really, because once again I had lucked out and found a hideaway gem hostal. Friendly, comfortable, and most importantly cheap. I made sure there was room booked for the night before my flight home… and yes, I checked the date carefully!