Mon 15.09.25

I woke up at 4:30 and could still hear the dogs barking. I resisted the urge to lie in the warmth of my sleeping bag: I needed to cross the lake again.

By 5:15 I was almost at the other side of the lake, grateful that the dogs had calmed down a bit… perhaps they’d gotten used to my smell walking back and forth the night before?

What stopped me in my tracks was the view. The frosted tips of the mountains were piercing through the mist.

I made my way to the blue house again.

As I entered through the gate, the owner’s dog eyed me closely, but made neither a move nor sound. I was safe.

I knocked on the house.

No response.

But as there was no lock on the door I knew that the owner was nearby. I looked around and found a hut, and noticed that there’s a fire inside. I knocked…

And promptly came out a lovely short woman named Elise. The mysterious owner had been found!

I explained my situation and she understood. She told me to wait a moment as she got something out of the blue house. A phone.

She played with the screen a bit and told me that I could connect.

A great sense of relief washed over me.

I sent messages to family and friends, making sure to specify that there was no guarantee I’d have internet until the end of the trip. Did not want to get stressed again.

I made my way back to camp. The sun was still waking up, and the towering mountains were like giants protecting the campsite. I sipped my coca-infused hot chocolate early.

High Spirits for the Big Day

For breakfast we had a rather runny oat porridge with what seemed to be puréed apple, and an omelette.

I chowed both down. I was very chirpy that morning, with a massive load lifted off my shoulders… and by that I mean more weight removed from my daypack. It was a good day for it too: we were going to climb 660 meters to 4800, the highest in the trek up to that point.

As the rest of the team was getting ready, I thought of each person and mentally noted why I was grateful for them. I found it very fortunate that I was able to sort out wifi issue on the 15th! My day of gratefulness.

Soon after, we were on the move. We crossed the lake, and not a single member of the team failed to mention that it would be my seventh time doing so.

By the time we had almost passed it, we’d already seen some spectacular views. Between two of towering mountains we saw a ball of ice… which I was told was formed by avalanches from the day before. It was a fascinating sight, as the sun rays shone on it like a spotlight. Moments later, we saw an avalanche.

We also saw the lake from a new angle as we passed along its side. It was so still, and the image of the mountains reflected onto it perfectly.

And a few more bold rocks asked us for an audience.

The sky was also clearing up. It seemed like the views thus far were only increasing our appetite.

The Three Lagunas View

The hike to the three lagunas was not easy, but Robin’s slow and steady pace got us there (and I prophylactically downed my daily dark chocolate stash).

We passed by each of the lakes, and stopped to admire the views. We spotted many more avalanches, and I wondered if this trek would exist in a couple of decades. Surely the melting of the caps would trigger a drying up of the lakes… which would inevitably mean no running water into the campsites.

No water = no camping = no hiking.

But hey, why the pessimism? Our lords and saviours the entrepreneurs will find a way to rescue the trek with technological innovation.

At that moment there was no reason to contemplate what would be. I focused on what there was.

We stopped for a rest around 100 meters before the three lakes viewpoint. I was feeling strong and well acclimatised, so asked Robin if I could go ahead and wait for the team there.

The viewpoint blessed us with stunning views of the three lakes, though it was not peaceful – many a hiking group had decided to occupy it.

I sat on a rock nearby and wrote… and wrote and wrote. I spoke to Jirishanca Chica, standing tall behind the three lakes, as if it were my uncle. I asked the pale stone for those less fortunate than me to feel a fraction of the peace I was feeling in that moment.

All I could hear in response was the wind, and the occasional crunch of crisp packets.

Was the wind there to deliver my wishes, or to wash them away? I will never know.

We climbed a bit further on and had lunch on the trail: Arroz Chaufa, a staple of Chifa cuisine.

Love and Gratitude

I don’t remember much of the descent, though the photos I took suggest it was amazing.

The team was very anti-social that day, so it was just Sarí and I in the mess tent after tea. We played a card game (whose name has completely slipped my mind) that required the reaction time of an F1 driver. It took me a few rounds of losing to get the hang of it… at which point I was on fire.

Sami, one of the donkey drivers, took note of us playing as he was clearing up the cups from tea. He joined us and taught us Sumando, a Peruvian card game where the players try to take as many cards from the pile by matching the sum to a card that they have in their hand.

It took Sarí and I some time to get the hang of it, both due to our barely functioning Spanish and Sami’s unwillingness to explain the rules.

By the time we thought we had gotten the hang of it, Sami played his last card and took all the cards in the pile. We protested. He said that whoever ends their hand last takes all the cards in the pile… a convenient rule we thought, silently!

Dinner came, and we had a warming soup as usual, and a pork dish. I got a phat chunk and was very pleased, though despite it being very tender, in that moment I didn’t enjoy it too much (it was only days later that I found myself reflecting on how tasty of a meal it was…). Dessert was rather disappointing: canned fruit in syrup.

I left the dining table as soon as Robin was done with his overview of the coming day. I wanted to write down why I was grateful for each person in the team.

Tue 16.09.25

This day was going to be a big one: we were going to our highest point on the trip, at 5100 meters. I wasn’t nervous: I’d climbed to 4980 before, surely another 100 meters weren’t going to make a difference?

We started the day with an excellent breakfast: eggs with vegetables, a quinoa porridge and the usual bread and jam.

I was feeling strong.

Crossing 5k

The wind gave us no respite. Rock cover would delude us into taking some layers off, but the wind would make us its victims at the next opening. It was incessant.

The climb was manageable, though underwhelming with cloudy skies limiting what we could see. Robin asked if we were interested in climbing higher, from around 5020 to 5100.

The group was split, not helped by Robin heavily implying that the climb is not worth it.

Fortunately much of the group was thirsty for more.

The view of the mountain up close was spectacular, but it also tempted me for more: I wanted to touch the ice.

I journaled staring directly in its face. I had survived a dance with the devil already, and wasn’t going to take any other chances. Instead of giving in to temptation, I wished the pale stone that those less fortunate than me feel a fraction of the peace I was feeling.

The wind drowned my voice, and it hurt my head.

Zombies on the Descent

The devil must have witnessed my valiant struggle against mountain sickness, for he infected me with altitude sickness on the long and rolling descent.

It was tough.

I could feel a squeeze around my temples and eyes with every step. I got into that altitude induced flow state: “down down down”. With every other step, rude thoughts would invade my mind. I thought that I have too many thoughts, and promised myself to change this after the hike. The only thought that interrupted my flow was: “what if I just jumped into the lake down there? I would feel good right?”

It’s a shame that I didn’t stop to take many photos, for the walk to camp was stunning. It was different to what we had seen thus far.

The only photo I have is of an apple midway through the descent. My mouth recalls the sugary juices rushing into my bloodstream, briefly giving me the sensation of being alive.

Temptation Amidst Recovery

We arrived at camp late, so had lunch at 2, where I survived another close call with fava beans (the empty spot on my plate is that of fava beans removed!).

No soup today, but I wasn’t fussed.

I ate my lunch as quickly as I could and went into my tent. I stared at the ceiling for a good 15 minutes, barely blinking and not thinking.

It took me around an hour to return to my normal state.

But as soon as I had, I was tempted to go for another hike, especially after spying Dom, Timothy and Bob walking with their guide Rama, towards the San Antonio pass. From where I was standing it looked like a vertical ascent. I was angry that Robin hadn’t offered it to our group, and was tempted to join the others.

But the sensible voice reminded me not to dance with the devil again.

The world’s fate wasn’t resting on me going on the hike. I reminded myself that life isn’t about chasing highs.

I spent the afternoon relaxing. I popped by the other group’s mess tent and wished Roy happy birthday. We played some cards and enjoyed popped corn, queso fresco and fried salami for tea.

For dinner we had another warm soup, lomo saltado (another staple of Chifa cuisine), and an apple pudding.

I was ready for a restful night’s sleep.

Wed 17.09.25

We woke up to a snowy campsite.

Breakfast was a lovey cheese omelette and oat porridge.

I felt very well rested and excited for the day ahead.

Feeling Frosty

It was the coldest day thus far, but since the wind had given up on its attempts to break our spirits the day before, I don’t think any of us felt it. The ascent up to 5080 was keeping us warm.

I felt excellent, except for my right knee and shoulders complaining. I didn’t know what else to do: I’d pretty much taken out all that could be taken out from my daypack. I hoped that all I needed was more rest.

Walking in the snow felt very peaceful, and while more taxing on the cardiovascular system, I loved it for softening the blows to my knee.

I felt so sharp that I could have cut myself. No issues with altitude.

By the time we got to camp my knees were beat up, but I was hungry for more hiking. A hunger which our paltry lunch only intensified.

Touching the Void

Robin offered us a day hike to the location where Simon Yates and Joe Simpson camped before summiting the west face of the Suila Grande.

This hike was my favourite of the trip. It was very technical, but not hard and therefore super enjoyable. I found myself in a strange flow where I wasn’t using my walking sticks, but instead using deft foot placement to get by, quickly.

Once we got to Sarapo lake, overlooking the Sarapo mountain, I found another rock to sit on. I stared at Sarapo and reflected.

Prior to this trip my father had mentioned that mountains make men go mad. They feed on man’s arrogance and desire for conquest.

Naturally, I had thought of myself immune to such desires. However, this desire exists in me as it does in all men, and it sprung up on me unawares the week before I embarked on the Huayhuash hike, almost killing me.

And twice more during it, tempting me to go on the ice at 5100, and tempting me to do the San Antonio pass.

As I stared at Sarapo I made peace with this part of me. As long as I respect it, it will never take control. But should I ignore its existence, and let it consume me whole, then I’d have decided my own self destructive destiny.

I stared at the pale stone again and wished, again, that those less fortunate than me feel but a fraction of the peace that I was feeling.

This time I heard no response. I just stared at the reflection of Sarapo, and myself, in the lake.

The walk back camp was pleasant. We were all surprised to see that the other group had not made it to our campsite. We assumed that they’d either stayed at the previous campsite for an extra night, or gone directly to the mountain village Huayllapa, which was our next campsite.

For dinner, I had another close call with fava beans: they had served me the incorrect soup!

Cream of fava bean was not going to be what kills me.

For the main, a beef stew served with rice and a potato mash. The mash was exceptional.

Dessert was uninspiring.

Thu 18.09.25

Day 8. The trip had felt really long but the moment I registered that we had hiked for 8 days, I noticed it was coming to an end very quickly.

This night we were staying at a hostel in Huayllapa village, and then two more nights in campsites. The trip was almost over.

The realisation was bittersweet. I was sad that the hike was ending. I was starting to feel at home with my team.

But I was also happy: happy to move on, and happy to catch up with my friends and family. I was excited to do that at the hostel.

However, we first had to descent 1200 meters. Luckily, my knees were feeling fresh.

Ghost Town

It really felt like an eternity before we got to Huayllapa.

Strangely: I took no photos, so let me describe the hike instead.

We walked down the valley on what was mostly a very flat route. There were mountains around us, and we followed a large stream. The flora and fauna became much more vibrant than what we’d seen thus far, as we’d gradually been descending to below the tree line.

As we gathered to pay our entrance fees to the village, I saw a message graffiti’d onto the walls:

The village made me sad in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time: A tonne of tourist graffiti, many dying dogs and little signs of life.

The independent hikers Cabo and Ella had also made it to the village. They were struggling to find food though, as the village doesn’t have any restaurants. I felt for their stomachs over our delicious lunch: Aji de Gallina >> packets of Inka chips sold with a tourist tax!

And I’m glad that they were at least able to arrange dinner with some locals.

I scoured the village for signs of the other group. None. They must have moved onto the next campsite. I hoped they were okay.

I’m Alive!

I connected to wifi and got a barrage of messages in response! But I wasn’t complaining: it was nice to catch up with family and friends. I had really missed them.

After a few hours online it was time to tend to myself with a hot shower! Well… hot-ish. The key was to find the optimal flow of warm water. Any more and the heater wouldn’t keep up, giving you icy water instead. I enjoyed the weak lukewarm stream for as long as I could.

For snacks we had fried corn kernels (rather strange!), queso fresco and fried salami.

The time from tea to dinner passed slowly and in a bit of a blur. I spent much of it on my phone, not knowing what else to do as everyone was in their rooms.

The access to internet, and a lack of a mess tent had brought out our most introverted tendencies.

Right before dinner though, I heard that familiar beat again. The Peruvian beat.

I looked over the courtyard and saw a bunch of kids dancing to the folk music. It made me happy to see them so joyful, especially given the emptiness of the village.

It started raining, and for a good few minutes they were dancing in spite of it, until it picked up really heavily.

Another weather phenomenon experienced, I thought to myself.

For dinner I was given a massive portion of bolognese, only massive because I impatiently snacked before dinner. For dessert we had purple corn pudding, which I did not enjoy at all.

I enjoyed the warmth of my bed as much as I could. We were going to camp at “the cold place” the day after.

I was not in the mood to hike again.