Breathtaking Views on the Lares Trek

Endurance
Poncho
Ill
Cusco

Earlier on in the trip I decided to opt to do the Lares trek rather than the classic Inca trail. Mixture of reasons for my decision, cost of Inca trail, feedback from people saying how overcrowded and littered the Inca trail had become and positive feedback on taking lesser known routes.

So we arrived into Cusco and packed for our three day hike in Lares. Headed off to Paddy's, highest Irish-owned pub in the world, for our last meal before for trek. We all tried a different dish and no one was disappointed. Already the non trekkers in the group are planning on dining out here nearly every night.

Day 1: Cusco (3,350m) – Lares (3,100m) – Quishuarani (3,700m)
Our guides, Odon and William, picked us up from the hotel bright and early and we drove through the Sacred Valley turning off at the town of Calca. Here we stopped to pick up supplies for the trip and treats (bread, fruit, paper and pencils) for kids we might meet along the way. Once we finished shopping we headed up to Lares and popped into the hot springs where we relaxed and enjoyed these soothing outdoor baths. Lunch was provided here by our chefs for the trek. It was a fab way to start the trek, but probably the complete wrong way of doing things. I'm fairly sure we should be soaking weary muscles after the trek, not before! Totally chilled we continued our bus journey for around 20mins to the start of the trail known as Pascana.

From here we started our hike to Quishaurani. We met up with our horsemen and they packed the horses with our sleeping gear and tents. The afternoon trek took us around 2.5hrs. We stayed with a lovely Quechuan family, the youngest boy Wilfredo was a little heartbreaker. We spent the night playing and tickling him to death just to hear his unabashed childish laughter, the kind that melts adults hearts. Seriously we would have kidnapped him if we could. Jeanne did 'Round and round the garden' with him; the first time he didn't know what was happening, the second time he was squirming and giggling helplessly before she even got to tickle him. Francois kept lifting Wilfredo into the air like an airplane, with demands for more and more. Unfortunately the family didn't speak any Spanish, just Quechuan, so we could only communicate via gestures and also through the guides if we really wanted to get our point across. As a treat before dinner, our chefs made some popcorn for the group. This went down particularly well with Wilfredo, he grabbed a tiny fistful and solemnly offered me every second one of his stash. Despite the fact it was freezing outside Wilfredo radiated heat, I was only delighted to snatch him up onto my lap as my own personal hot water bottle. Plus thankfully he seemed quite content to remain there, only disappearing to grab fistfuls of popcorn or to sneakily steal a few hot potatoes that were meant for our dinner - not that any of us begrudged him a single one. Here in the mountains the people live off potatoes, it's their only supplement. We also discovered that they grow over 3,000 types of potato. Yes, that was not a typo, I meant 3,000 different potatoes - welcome to every Irish person's dream!

Jeanne bought a Poncho from one of the neighbouring ladies who had spread out her wares. She gave the lady US Dollars and we were greeted with a very perplexed Quechuan lady. The guide told us that she had never seen this kind of money before and so did not believe it to be real currency, she was only aware of Peruvian Sols. Ten minutes later the guides, horsemen and her neighbours were still trying to convince her that she had in her hand legal tender. Calculators were produced and exchange rates displayed. The look of complete bewilderment on her face was incredible. Jeanne offered to return the poncho and ease her concerns by withdrawing the offending US dollars. Funnily enough that prompted the lady to grab the dollars and begin to look a bit okay, although she was still quite wary that she had been had. It was surreal to think that people exist who have no understanding of US dollars. We take so much for granted these days.

William regaled us with lovely tunes on his homemade pipe; think an instrument similar to a tin whistle but you blow across the opening rather than down through it. I had a few pitiful attempts and could barely get a note out of it - thoroughly disgusted after all my time spent playing the tin whistle! We camped in a concrete shed that belonged to the family, mercifully our tents were already set up for us when we arrived. We are all loving this pampering bit. So day one finished and we retired early to bed as day two is a long one.

Day 2: Quishuarani - Cancha Cancha (3,800m)
We departed early as day two is going to be our longest day on the trail. We watched the sun rise over a snowy peak, all trying to get 'the money shot' - sadly I don't think I managed to get the best photo. We hiked approx 7 hours, starting our ascent to the highest point of the trek, Pachacutec Pass (4,450m). Before reaching the pass I was absolutely flaed and found it very difficult to breathe. William, god bless, was a chatty little soul and didn't realise that I simply did not have the energy to walk, talk and breathe all at the same time. Instead when he wanted to converse I would stop and we'd chat before continuing on. However, not far from the top I had to concede that I was not handling the altitude well, so I cheated and requested a lift on one of the pack horses. I was finally able to enjoy the ride and take in my surroundings. I've no guilt whatsoever in taking the assistance, as I do not think I could have managed to reach the top in my own steam. Perhaps I would but it would have nearly killed me. Instead I really enjoyed my ride up to the top and was all smiles at the peak. From the pass we were rewarded with superb views of Pachacutec Lake and the snowy peaks of Pitusiray, Sawasiray and Chicon. The path then continued downhill for about 2.5hrs to the village of Cancha Cancha where we camped in a local school.

On reaching the school I pretty much immediately fell apart. My stomach was churning and I felt like crap, wandered up to the hole in the ground toilet and puked my guts out. Then it was off to bed for me, shivering with the cold but physically boiling - perfect I now have a fever to boot! For a special dinner treat we had chipped in to buy a sheep from a local farmer, the chefs would kill and prep the animal for dinner. Obviously with my stomach cramping and in turmoil I did not partake in dinner. Instead I moped and slept in my tent. Jeanne brought me some soup later on, despite my protests, she insisted that she had specific instruction from Odon that I must drink it regardless of how I was feeling. Being the dutiful sod that I am I drank up even though it tasted really funny. Sadly ten minutes later I was off to the toilet to puke up my meagre meal. Odon hinted that altitude was probably the culprit, that was of no consolation to me I can tell you.

Day 3: Cancha Cancha – Huaran (2,800m) – Ollantaytambo (2,700m) – Aguas Calientes
After a tantalising breakfast of hot chocolate and pancakes, neither of which I could enjoy with my dodgy tum, we started our easy hike. Before leaving the school we met eight schoolchildren who were shyly loitering around the premises but keeping out of sight. We looted our bags and produced bread, mandarins, pencils and papers for them. Odon told us that the food would be a real treat for them as they only usually eat potatoes. He said that they would savour the bread and only nibble a little bit at a time so as to make it last the whole day. Francois had also bought some toy cars for the kids. Odon told us that there was no Quechuan word for car and the kids would have never seen one before. Again we were all blown away by this. He also mentioned the same occurred with airplanes. There's no word for it in their language and they get very excited when they see this strange sight in the sky. Was a bit floored by that comment, again we presume and take so much for granted. It was slightly humbling. We said goodbye to the kids and began our downhill hike for approx. 5 hours to the village of Huaran. Along the way Neil and Tony tried to carry my rucksack for me since I was ill, but being the stubborn lass that I am, I merely thanked them for their concern and trundled on. Just before we reached Huaran we came across a building that was selling the infamous corn-based beer, Chicha, recognisable by the red flag (or bag) hanging on a pole outside. Odon told us that the locals use saliva to activate the fermentation process, making partial chewing and spitting out of corn kernels the first step in the Chicha brewing process. Unfortunately with my already dodgy tum I had to pass on the opportunity to taste this beer, which has an apparently earthy taste. Instead Jeanne and Francois were the only two brave (or foolish) enough to sample it. Both only managed a wee mouthful before quitting, while our two guides heartily skulled a frothy, cloudy glass each.

From Huaran we got a minibus to the town of Ollantaytambo – a beautiful Andean town. When we arrived there were huge celebratins afoot as it was Mother's Day that weekend. The main plaza was thronged with people, and food and drink was flowing. Sadly we didn't have time to explore here as our train to Aguas Calientes was leaving shortly. We met up with the rest of the group on the train and looked forward to staying overnight in a hostel (with hopefully very comfy beds to rest tired and weary bones) before hitting Machu Picchu. I'm really looking forward to seeing this wonder, bring it on!