Surprisingly, we woke up in the rain. We were wet. The tent was wet. The ground was wet. Everything was wet.
When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. When you hike through the Peruvian Andes during the wet season, you make oatmeal and ramen in the rain, you splash into your shoes and you take a big gulp of that lemonade because it tastes damn good.
It was the last day of our trek and though it seemed like the rain would never end, we knew that the trail would so we marched on with our hoods synched tight and smiles on our faces. As we made our way down the vally, time and time again we encountered rivers washing out the trail. At this point, we had abandoned the hope of finding a dry alternative route on rocks. At each crossing we paused to admire the quantity of water cascading down the canyon walls, listen to the birds singing and once again, embrace the magnitude of our surroundings. We took a deep breath and walked across.
The landscape continued to change as we found ourselves in a lush, green forest which soon opened up to a sheep pasture, where a young girl tended to her sheep. There, we noticed the first signs of the small village below.
When you spend time amongst big mountains in the backcountry, the return to civilization can sometimes shock your system. Luckily, our choice to end in the town of Vaqueria softened our re-entry. For the next few hours, we meandered through a small, mountainside village, where farmers leisurely worked in their fields and children played freely- running up to greet us as we passed. As we crossed the creek one last time, we said goodbye to the small village and were assured by a kind woman that Vaqueria was "Just up the hill." As if willed by her warm smile, the rains stopped and the sun found its way through the clouds, instantaneously warming our soaked bodies.
Feeling our trek coming to an end, we slowed our pace as the trail steepened and we felt the gravity of the past four days. We shrugged our shoulders and laughed as the final ascent proved to be the most challenging. As we ascended higher and higher, the trail became a dirt road. We imagined that this place, Vaqueria, the one we had been walking towards for four day, would be a small Peruvian village. We began day dreaming of lunch in a quaint little cafe, in the Plaza de Armas. To our surprise, just as we felt we couldn´t walk any further or higher, the real Vaqueria appeared before our eyes. Little more than a road-side stop and a small, closed hostel, it still appeared a shangri-la to us.
We happily sat out in the sunny lawn and spread our things out to let the sun dry our bones. Despite the risk of being deserted at this closed, road-side attraction. We let the first colectivos roll by. For the moment, we savored the end of our trek.
Even though our journey was still to include wild mountain drives down hair-raising switch backs, hotsprings, beaches, fireworks, deserts, Incan ruins and even more mountains; for that moment, on that small patch of grass on the hillside in the sunshine, it was all enough.
It was the last day of our trek and though it seemed like the rain would never end, we knew that the trail would so we marched on with our hoods synched tight and smiles on our faces. As we made our way down the vally, time and time again we encountered rivers washing out the trail. At this point, we had abandoned the hope of finding a dry alternative route on rocks. At each crossing we paused to admire the quantity of water cascading down the canyon walls, listen to the birds singing and once again, embrace the magnitude of our surroundings. We took a deep breath and walked across.
The landscape continued to change as we found ourselves in a lush, green forest which soon opened up to a sheep pasture, where a young girl tended to her sheep. There, we noticed the first signs of the small village below.
When you spend time amongst big mountains in the backcountry, the return to civilization can sometimes shock your system. Luckily, our choice to end in the town of Vaqueria softened our re-entry. For the next few hours, we meandered through a small, mountainside village, where farmers leisurely worked in their fields and children played freely- running up to greet us as we passed. As we crossed the creek one last time, we said goodbye to the small village and were assured by a kind woman that Vaqueria was "Just up the hill." As if willed by her warm smile, the rains stopped and the sun found its way through the clouds, instantaneously warming our soaked bodies.
Feeling our trek coming to an end, we slowed our pace as the trail steepened and we felt the gravity of the past four days. We shrugged our shoulders and laughed as the final ascent proved to be the most challenging. As we ascended higher and higher, the trail became a dirt road. We imagined that this place, Vaqueria, the one we had been walking towards for four day, would be a small Peruvian village. We began day dreaming of lunch in a quaint little cafe, in the Plaza de Armas. To our surprise, just as we felt we couldn´t walk any further or higher, the real Vaqueria appeared before our eyes. Little more than a road-side stop and a small, closed hostel, it still appeared a shangri-la to us.
We happily sat out in the sunny lawn and spread our things out to let the sun dry our bones. Despite the risk of being deserted at this closed, road-side attraction. We let the first colectivos roll by. For the moment, we savored the end of our trek.
Even though our journey was still to include wild mountain drives down hair-raising switch backs, hotsprings, beaches, fireworks, deserts, Incan ruins and even more mountains; for that moment, on that small patch of grass on the hillside in the sunshine, it was all enough.
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