Screw the poppies! I wonder what the altitude of Oz was...My Hell Hike to Paradise/Laguna 69

Feb 25: At 2215, Jackie and I boarded our overnight bus to Huaraz.  I was exhausted from travel and lack of sleep leading up to my travels, so passed out pretty quickly.  The bus has two stops in Lima, the first where we boarded, and the second where our little friend, whose name currently escapes me, boarded.  She was super friendly and talkative and gave us her card- she runs a tourist agency in Huaraz. We took the card and I closed my eyes.  Bedtime.  The seats on the bus recline nearly all of the way, which is great, if you have nobody in front of you or if you're a tiny Peruvian...no go for me!  My legs were squished!! But, somehow I maneuvered myself into some pretty wild pretzel-like positions that were surprising comfortable and I found myself sleeping off and on the entire ride. 

Feb 26: We were woken up around 6am for our arrival to Huaraz.  Holy Soroche.

First, Jackie and I stopped at a dirty café with unfriendly people for what happened to be a delicious cup of coffee- only noticing the cockroaches crawling on the walls AFTER we started drinking...After, we tried to find a cleaner restaurant to eat and figure out where we would be sleeping that night.  The first two we tried were closed, and then we stumbled upon (okay,we found it after reading about it in Jackie's Lonely Planet book)- the California Café.  Jackie and I had met 4.5 years ago in Cali, where we both shared an office at the same heath clinic, so we found comfort in dining here.  I enjoyed granola, fruit, honey and algarrobina, a chocolate-like syrup common in Peru.  After breakfast, Jackie and I went on the hunt for a hostel to stay in.  We struck out at the first two- no answer!- then found Hotel Brits- which offered us 2 beds, private bathroom with hot water and a balcony for all of 70 sol /night, which is about $25...um amazing??!   After check-in Jackie and I ended up taking a much needed nap, for about 2 hours. 

After waking up, we met up with our night bus friend and made plans to hike to Laguna 69 the next day- we had a bus picking us up at 6am.  By 630pm were both showered and in bed, and by 730pm I was sleeping.  Around 9:30pm we had a phone call telling us that there was going to be a protest tomorrow that would prohibit us from getting to the hike, so we had to meet at 5:20am instead. woof. 

Feb 27: After our early wake up, we stored our clothes in an office in the hotel and found a man in our hotel looking for Jenny- we assumed he meant Jackie and jumped in his car.  He took us all of a block away to a random restaurant?/office?/hotel?/no idea- where we were told a bus would come for us.  After snapping a selfie or two, a bus showed up and we climbed on.  Our bus was full of gringos sprinkled with a few latinos.  There was lots of napping and little chatter on our 3 hour ride to the start of the trek.  Along the way we did stop for breakfast, and though I had only wanted mate de coca, the kid brought me an egg sandwhich as well- Jackie, being the good friend that she is! ate my egg and I the bread.  In hindsight, I probably could have used the protein.

The bus stopped a little before 9am.  We climbed off the bus and was greeted by a friendly cow.  After a bunch of us took pictures, the driver said, in Spanish, "you go down this way (pointing down the steep path in front of us) and then stay right at the bridge.  It should take 3 hours. Be back by 3:30."  And that was that.

As we climbed down, I was already dreading having to climb up this part at the end of the hike.  It was steep and rocky.  When we came across the bridge, legit in the very beginning of the hike!, we snapped some pics, then continued on towards the right.  Jackie and I befriended a girl from Holland, Ellen, who ended up hiking with us for the rest of the day.

As we hiked on, we all recognized an abnormal lack of endurance.  Even during the flat paths we were often out of breath and tired.  The altitude was NOT sparing us.  Along the way, the path seemed to disappear.  There was a rushing river to our left and fields of brush to our right.  Not wanting to believe that we had to cross the river, we attempted cutting through the brush first, only find a dead end.  We turned back towards the river, where we ran into some other trekkers.  Together, we found the most "crossable" portion of the river and took turns hopping across, those that crossed first reaching back to offer a hand/assistance to those behind.  Throughout the rest of the hike, there was an unspoken agreement that we took turns crossing first, always turning back to offer an arm for balance.    

Eventually, as the hike turned more vertical, Jackie fell behind.  In addition to the altitude, Jackie was also battling some GI issues.  She insisted we push on as we could tolerate and she would either catch up or go as far as she could and turn around.  I left her with a water bottle, leaving me with what was left of my 1L, and carried on with Ellen.

Ellen and I came to an open field, where we found two other (different!) trekkers pondering over a sign.  The letters had worn away, yet we could barely make out the word: Laguna 69, with an arrow to the left. (This was literally the first sign that told us we were heading in the right direction!)  We were unable to determine the distance remaining.  It was at this point that Ellen asked if we were going to die, and as I said no, my evil eye bracelet snapped off my wrist and burst into pieces! (surely an omen of sorts, yes?)  BUT, we hiked on, across this open, flat field that led to another, bigger river.  Crossing rivers became a game I started to love: we had to determine the best possible path across- taking into consideration the depth of the water, the apparent sturdiness of the rocks that poked out from the water, the distance of the rocks from one another and the access to land on the other side.  Once you dedicated yourself to a path there was little room to change- you had to go quick and steady, otherwise, SPLASH.  At this particular river Ellen and I were at a loss, so we took off our shoes and socks, pulled up our pants and waded across.  The water was cold and numbing- it did NOT feel good!

On the other side of the river we dried our feet, put our socks and shoes back on and continued on.  Ellen was just telling me a story about her hike in Ecuador where what she thought was solid ground was marsh and she fell up to her thighs in mud, when I found myself falling through what I thought was solid ground, thankfully only to my ankles.

After a lovely stretch of flat land, the path seemed to continue up an incredibly steep and what looked like at the time impossible trail to conquer.  I didn't want to believe that that was the way we had to go, and to be honest I was actually convinced it wasn't.  Ellen and I decided to wait for Jackie, and we were soon joined by our two river-crosser friends and the two sign ponderers.  While the 5 of them took up camp on the big rocks, I decided to walk back a bit to see if I could spot Jackie.  I climbed up the biggest rock I could find and looked out at all the land we covered, and grew a bit nervous when I didn't see her anywhere.  I hung out by the river for 15 minutes, then got nervous that Ellen and the others would have carried on without me, so headed back to them.  They were still resting, and Ellen suggested we wait a bit more for Jackie, so I went back to hunt for her.  (At this point, a little nauseous from the trek, I stuffed a protein bar down my throat.) Again, after 15 more minutes, nothing.  No one.  Just the rivers we forged, the marsh we survived and the path we somehow navigated. I grew even more nervous, returning to the group at a loss as to what to do- do I head back alone? or continue to the Laguna with them, not knowing what had become of Jackie? 

Suddenly, a lady appeared, I SWEAR what seemed out of NOWHERE.  I walked up to her, asking first if she spoke English and then if she happened to pass my friend.  "Yes, a lady in blue?  She said she wasn't feeling well and headed back to the bus."  What an angel!  With that new information, the 6 of us decided to march on (and up) to the Laguna.  That last part of the trek was the absolute worst.  It consisted of steep switchbacks for what felt like forever.  Ellen and I would take a break every few moments, just long enough to catch our breath and then we'd continue up. 

I was thirsty, but had only a few sips of water left.  My head hurt, but there was nothing to be done about that.  I was nauseas, slightly delirious and lightheaded.  I kept repeating Ellen's mantra, "one foot in front of the other," as well as my own, "...how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong... but to feel strong.”(A Chris McClandless quote from Into the Wild!)  I felt that any second I could just close my eyes and sleep, forever, and it would all be okay.  I thought of Dorothy walking through the poppy field in the Wizard of Oz- I totally understood that irrational need to sleep.  Thankfully, my trekking friends pushed on, as did I. 

FINALLY, we reached the Laguna and I was overcome by its beauty.  I sat on a rock admiring the view, pushing my headache, dehydration and nausea aside.  After a model session with Ellen, we decided to head back to the bus.

When we got to the bottom of the switchbacks, just as it began to rain and thunder, we found ourselves in more marsh and passing a charming stone wall that we hadn't passed before:  we had gone the wrong way.  Thankfully we were quickly able to find our way back to the correct path to the river without having to backtrack too much.  Once reaching the river our exhaustion had gotten the better of us and we decided to find a rock path to jump across, instead of taking off our shoes and socks again.  We scoped out our options and took a few leaps of faith, landing dry on the other side.  On we marched, past the marsh where I had sunk before and down the stream I had forgotten we climbed up.  This stream went on forever, and I felt like there was more water than before, but again, in our exhaustion, staying dry was not a priority.  Instead of walking up to the grassy ledge on the side or finding rocks to step on, I walked straight on through the water.  Finally we reached a field where we could see what I started calling the Magic Bus.  It close enough to see, but far enough that it looked like a toy bus from where we stood.  At that point, the nurse in me realized that I had gone almost 12 hours without having to pee.  Never good.  I needed water.  I needed that bus!  

Ellen and I finally came to that steep path we had to climb down to begin our trek, but to our surprise there was one path to the left and one to the right.  Neither of us remembered which we had come down, and so we started up the right.  WRONG. After a few minutes (felt like forever but it was probably all of 2 minutes!) we turned around and went back to the path on the left.  As hail began to fall, we trudged up the hill, finally making it to the bus around 4:30pm.  I fell down next to Jackie, chugged some water, then covered my face with my hat and closed my eyes.  We had to wait for the last few trekkers to return to the bus and then we were off.  At some point on the bus home I started to feel better, ate a few almonds and rested. 

We returned to our hotel, got our belongings, changed, and headed out to find some food.  The headache disappeared and appetite returned as we ate shitty pizza and delicious chocolate...then Jackie and I made our way to the bus station for our overnight bus back to Lima.