Cathy and I headed off to the town of Lares this past weekend for a little rest and relaxation. Lares is well known locally for its hot springs (which are still hot, unlike many other advertised “hot” springs nearby). It also has a nice hostal on the grounds of the hot springs for quick and easy access to the soaking tubs. We left the girls behind at the home of our friends Sandy and Sandra and their kids Niall and Tarn and looked forward to some good long soaks, some alone time, a leisurely hike or two, and the chance to see another part of Peru.
However, things got off to a rocky start from the get-go. Even before our alarm went off (set for 4 a.m.), we were awakened to the sound of fireworks at about 3:45 in the morning, followed by the nearby church bells clanging away just before 4. We also walked out of our room to find a steady rain falling (an unusual event for the dry season). Why such an early alarm, you might ask? Well, the road to Lares is under construction and only open between 6 p.m. and 7 a.m. Like many other roads in this area, the road winds up a steep valley, climbing several thousand feet before topping a mountain pass and then descending several more thousand feet to Lares. To ensure that buses are on the road before it closes for the day, boarding time is 5:30 a.m. in Calca, about a 30 minute drive from our current hometown of Pisac.
So after a quick breakfast of cold leftovers and warm coffee, we walked to the Pisac bus stop, arriving at about 4:30 a.m. Several high schoolers were already waiting for a bus. While I haven’t had much luck catching a bus out of Pisac before 5:30, the kids at the bus stop assured us that the first buses arrive before 5. About 10 minutes after getting to the bus stop, all the lights in town suddenly went out, leaving all of us in the pitch black, rainy morning where we waited until almost 5 before finally seeing a bus approach. We stuck out our arms to flag the bus, the standard Peruvian custom, especially since we were a block or so away from the official bus stop (which has no shelter). However, for reasons we couldn’t fathom, the bus barely slowed and didn’t stop for us. Maybe it didn’t see us in the near-pitch black of the lightless road. We chased it for a block or so to no avail. Now we started to worry that we would miss our bus from Calca to Lares and after all the ominous signs, almost headed back home to bed. But I had paid for the bus tickets the day before and not wanting to lose our precious 14 soles (about $5), we waited for another vehicle to shuttle us to Calca.
Our patience was rewarded when a collective taxi showed up about 10 minutes later on its way to Calca. We gratefully hopped in, happy to pay the extra two soles for a faster ride. As we headed down the road, we discovered that power was out all through the Sacred Valley and each town we passed was surreally dark. We arrived at the darkened bus terminal at 5:30 where we climbed aboard waited on our bus for about 30 minutes before it departed. Our first stop was the Calca market where the bus typically takes on more passengers before heading to Lares. Women selling food also board the bus at this point, giving us a chance to buy some much needed warm tamales.
Finally, the main part of the journey began. Although the construction project on the road to Lares is a massive one, we saw relatively few workers along the road. In fact, our taxi driver had told us that the rain had caused most of them to have the day off. As we ascended I started to see a sprinkling of snow on the upper slopes of the mountains we would need to cross, an unusual sight for this part of Peru in the dry season. As we passed the town of Totora at about 3,600 meters (12,000 feet) we could see snow falling through the air and a sprinkling of it on the ground. As we continued to climb, the snow became heavier and we saw more and more accumulating on the road. Knowing we had close to 2,000 more feet to climb before the pass, we started to worry a bit about our ability to get to Lares. By the time we passed above the town of Chaipa just above 4,000 meters (over 13,000 feet), we could see at least 6-8 inches of snow on the ground and the pace of the vehicles began to slow, not a bad thing itself on a snow-covered gravel road with precipitous drop-offs everywhere you looked.
View from the bus window
However, we soon actually stopped, discovering that one of the cars ahead was stuck. We waited for several minutes while the driver and passengers dug the vehicle out enough to continue, but we found this was just the first of several such stops. Eventually we got to a point where multiple vehicles ahead of us were stuck. Several people from our bus got out to help, while others stepped off the bus to collect snowball souvenirs. One woman put a snowball on her head (under her hat), maybe as some kind of good luck charm. At this point things looked fairly bleak. At least two vans and one bus ahead of us were stuck. Collectively, they had only one shovel among them to dig with. We were boxed in both in front and behind by other vehicles. The road was so narrow that there was no place for us or anyone else to turn around. We still had several hundred feet to climb to reach the pass and plenty of miles of snowy road on the other side to negotiate even if we made it that far. Visibility was near zero and the snow seemed to falling even harder, with 8-10 inches already on the road. And we were in a place where people rarely have to deal with snow and generally aren’t equipped to handle that much of it.
As the wait dragged on, Cathy and I started talking about leaving the bus and hiking back to Calca. Although we weren't all that excited about a long trek in the snow, we also didn’t relish more waiting in the bus and we strongly suspected that the bus would never make it over the pass. And even if we did make it to Lares, we worried that we could be stranded there (with our kids back in Pisac) for several days if the weather and road conditions didn’t improve. We knew that heading back on foot was a bit risky and would be a long walk. However, we also knew there were houses and villages along the way and plenty of places to take refuge if needed. And we knew the area since it’s one of the places I’ve been working to install water filters. Finally, after about 1 ½ hours of waiting in the bus, we decided to head out and take our chances. We gave a couple of people on the bus our names and contact info just in case someone needed to look for us or call our friends or kids at some point if we didn’t arrive back on schedule.
Heading down the road on foot
We walked and jogged about 1 ½ miles down the snow covered road to the last road junction. There we were greeted with our first bit of good luck of the day – a truckload of highway workers getting ready to head back down towards Calca. There was also a van that serves as a local taxi or mini-bus there. But since the workers were offering us a free ride, we hopped in the back of their pickup. They also graciously offered us long raincoats to keep as dry as we could as we bumped down the road. The snow covered hills and valleys we passed were quite beautiful and probably a once-in-a-lifetime sight for us in this part of Peru.
Herding llamas and alpacas in the snow
As the truck descended, the workers stopped frequently to take pictures of snow-covered machinery something they might never see again in their lives. One of the workers told us they don’t see a snowstorm like this more than once a year, if that. We also had to stop occasionally to go around shepherds and their herds of llama and/or sheep. The shepherds were typically wearing hard hats, plastic ponchos and sandals (the only kind of footwear I’ve ever seen people who live in these remote villages wearing). As we arrived at one more snow-covered equipment spot, one of the workers said something about a “muñeca” (or doll) and the workers began to build a snow-man. They were like little kids in the first snowfall of the year in the US and I happily joined in the construction project while Cathy took pictures. Soon another truckload of workers approached, saw what we were doing and stopped to join in the fun. Ultimately, the workers created one of the best snow-men I’ve seen. Actually they turned this one into a snow woman, complete with hard hat, walkie-talkie, whistle and scarf. Cameras emerged from several pockets and everyone went into picture-taking mode, punctuated by the occasional snowball skirmish. Each time we thought they were done taking pictures, someone shouted “un otra posa” (another pose) and a whole other series began.
Building the "muñeca"
The proud creators with their finished snow-woman
Eventually we all climbed back into our respective trucks and continued the descent. By the time we reached Calca, we were pretty wet and cold (one and a half hours driving through the snow and rain in the back of a pickup will do that). However, we were also incredibly grateful to the workers and quite happy to be back in the valley. Had we not run into them, we could have been faced with a 10-15 mile walk, much of it in the snow. We thanked the driver and other workers profusely, returned the raincoats and walked the rest of the way into town. Once there we splurged for a nicer lunch than we would normally get, including hot soup, chicharones (fried pork) and extra mate (tea). While not the most comfortable of events, this was quite an unforgettable experience for us and we felt like it easily made up for our aborted trip to the hot springs.
Matt
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