The Hasties in South America: Hike to Lamay

A couple of weekends ago, Katie and I went on a very cool hike with my friend Sandy (who I’m volunteering for), his daughter Tarn (who goes to school with Katie) and Sandy’s brother Bill (visiting from Canada). Katie and I got off to an early start, catching a bus out of Pisac at 5:30 a.m. to the town of Lamay where Sandy lives and where we needed to catch a ride to the start of the hike. After grabbing some bread at the local community “horno” (oven/bakery) which was just opening its doors, we met Sandy, Tarn and Bill at their house, then all headed down to the town square to catch our ride. We had expected to be riding in a large truck that travels up to a number of small villages in the mountains above Lamay each Saturday morning at 6:30 a.m. Typically, quite a few people are packed into the back of these large open air trucks. However, we were fortunate to ride instead in a warmer “combi” – a large van that generally holds about 12-15 passengers. I ended up in one of the fold out seats in the back of the “aisle.” The aisle seats have seat backs that are only about 12 inches high. I also ended up with an extra passenger in the back row sitting about halfway on my lap. She was an older woman who insisted on taking an “empty” seat in the back even though it was being reserved for a friend of the guy sitting next to me. Once the friend showed up, we were pretty cramped back there. All of this, combined with a very bumpy hour-long ride on a fairly rough dirt road, and the fact that I had neglected to go to the bathroom just before leaving, made for a less than ideal ride. Lesson #1: Never pass up a chance to go to the bathroom before a trip.

We hopped out of the combi at approximately the high point on the road (about 14,000 feet elevation) sort of in the middle of nowhere between two small villages and about a mile from the nearest home. Sandy’s plan was to hike over an adjacent mountain pass or saddle, then down into the next valley which he had not previously explored. There we expected to find a large trail that would eventually take us to another trail, then to a road in the valley we started from, and eventually leading back to Sandy’s house in Lamay. Depending on our energy level and time, we would either walk or hitch a ride the rest of the way back to Sandy’s place.

So off we went towards our intended pass. We reached it without much problem as we were well above the tree line and it was easy to see. We did get our feet soaked a bit, treading through some unavoidable marshy areas. We stopped at the pass to quickly climb a higher point on the ridge (at about 15,000 feet elevation) and have a snack. We had views down into both the valley we’d come from and the one we would drop into, amid swirling mist from clouds blowing over the ridge-top and temporarily enveloping us. We then headed down towards the next valley and also in search of a lake shown on our map. The footing was a bit rough as we hiked down a steep slope through tall “bunch grass” intermixed with mossy rocks and the occasional hole.

At the highest place I've ever been (so far) - 15,000 feet

After a while we spotted a narrow trail (probably used mostly by shepherds and their flocks of sheep and alpaca) that traversed the hillside. This ultimately led us to the lake we had been seeking. As we headed down towards the lake, we surprised a flock of sheep which was climbing the hillside towards us. Unfortunately for their shepherd (a boy of about 10 or 11), the sheep quickly turned around and headed back the other way. Although we were pretty sure he wasn’t too happy with us, the shepherd didn’t show it and helped point us towards a safe path down the somewhat “cliffy” slope (as Sandy put it) towards the lake. We had joked about taking a swim there but the weather was definitely not cooperating and we couldn’t convince Katie to do some cliff diving from the 20-foot tall rocks on the far side of the lake.

Katie at a mountain lake (with llama grazing on the other side)

As we quickly descended a particularly slippery section of slope, my feet slide out from under me and I took a nice, muddy fall onto my backside. Lesson #2: Take it easy on the steep slippery sections. After dropping the rest of the way into the base of the valley, we stopped for another food break and to take refuge from a steadily falling rain. We hunkered down in small shelter under a large rock, probably dug out by a local shepherd to also avoid bad weather. We then connected with the trail we had been looking for which took us down valley past large potato fields and scattered homes, passing only one or two people walking up the valley towards other homes or villages. After awhile we were overtaken by a young guy who was also headed towards Lamay and had been hiking since dawn. He suggested we continue on our path (a very nice wide dirt road or track) into the town of Huama where he assured us there would be taxis able to take us to Lamay. While a bit out of the way, this sounded like a good plan. By this time, the sun had started to emerge as well and it promised to be a lovely, warm afternoon.

Just before reaching Lamay we passed a pre-Incan site with ancient stone walls and building foundations and on an adjacent hillside, burial tombs. We didn’t have time to check out the tombs but did stop at the old foundations to look for pottery shards and were rewarded with finding several small pieces, some with geometric designs and all probably several hundred or even thousands of years old. We also passed some women tending livestock who pointed us in the direction of the best path down to Huama (and we hoped a waiting taxi). As we started to walk in the wrong direction, one of the women called out to Sandy in Quechua (the local indigenous language) something to the effect of “hey old man, you’re going the wrong way.” We all got a good laugh out of this once Tarn translated for us.

Heading down into Huama

After one of two more wrong turns, we finally found the most direct path towards the center of town. As we wound down this path between potato and wheat fields, we spotted a group of about 20 or 30 farmworkers sitting in the field for their communal lunch break. We gave them a wave and they in turn waved us over to join them. Since it is bad form to turn down local hospitality in Peru, we ambled over to join them, being careful not to trod on any potato plants along the way.

A few of the workers spoke Spanish and did most of the talking for the group as many of the others spoke primarily Quechua, with maybe just a few words of Spanish. They urged us to sit down and share their meal with them, expecting nothing in return. The food included piles of cooked potatoes and corn on a cloth and a plate of rice and potato stew which they gave to us to share. Of course it also included the local corn beer, chicha (see my earlier post about “communing with the stone workers” for more info about this very interesting beverage). Again, not wanting to offend their hospitality and somewhat making up for Bill’s apparent aversion to chicha (he only had one cup), I felt compelled to drink about three glasses before we left. Though we could have lingered for quite some time (or at least until the lunch break was over), we eventually explained that we were late for a lunch being prepared by my wife Cathy (who was actually expecting us at any minute) and we bade the group farewell and much thanks. The warmth and hospitality of the group is typical of what I have experienced from the people of this country and probably what stuck with me most after the hike.

Our next job was to find a taxi, which we did after a bit more walking. Unfortunately, the owner was nowhere to be seen and a passing boy told us he was probably out working his field (maybe we had just shared lunch with him). Lesson #3: Don’t count your Peruvian taxis before you’re in them. So we continued through town and down the road towards the valley of Lamay. Eventually we spied a taxi heading up towards Huama and eventually that same taxi came back down the road to pick us up. We finally arrived back at Sandy’s place in Lamay at about 3:45 (only an hour or so later than planned) where my wife Cathy had prepared a wonderful lunch for us. She, Georgia and Sandy’s son Nial had held off eating until just before we walked in the door (probably wondering if we would ever show up). The lunch was a great way to finish a very fun and eventful little adventure.