One of my goals is to stand at the head of Lake Louise in Banff in Canada like a million other tourists and enjoy the view of the turquoise glacial lake. I may have done one better at last.
Thanks to Eric, the owner of Apu Eco Lodge where we are staying we got up early and were among the first to arrive at the lake 19 rough miles 6,000 feet above Caraz. By the time we left around noon on a Tuesday the place was filling up.
This is an area owned by the local Quechua community who demanded the government give them back their heritage to benefit their people. Dogs are not banned here which was good for Rusty who wore himself out exploring the high mountain smells. Most of the National Park doesn’t allow dogs do for us that was a plus.
The Cordillera Blanca (“white Mountain Range”) is known for its year round snowy peaks and its series of glacial lagoons none of which we will see except this one, at two and a half miles long and 200 feet deep the largest of them. And by all accounts the most spectacular.
When we left Florida in a converted delivery van to explore South America we had one idea on our minds, aside from all the other issues we would face. And that was to protect our home by employing tour guides to see things located in remote areas. We have no illusions that GANNET2 designed to deliver parcels and transport work tools is an off road vehicle. It is a very comfortable home for us two old farts. Even though we saw lots of low slung Toyota Hiace mini buses transporting visitors on the track we had no regrets that we hired Eric and his Toyota Hilux pick up to take us to the lagoon. It was $100 well spent.
We did spot a 24 foot Mercedes Sprinter parked near the top. It is permitted to park here and use your van as a base for hikes in the area but for us it was enough to spend a morning at the lake. I think this van is owned by a Canadian family we have heard of on the road traveling in a giant van. I was sorry to miss them this time.
On the ninety minute drive up Eric told us a little about himself and his family. He has two daughters whom he sent to private French run schools when he was living in the capital, Lima. One got a scholarship to the Sorbonne and is now an executive working in France. His youngest loves the States and is going to school to become a hotelier after she graduates in a couple of years. When she does that Eric plans to get in his BMW and motorcycle the world.
He moved to Caraz for the mountain lifestyle in a laid back community, learned to speak Quechua, the language of the Incas, and has the self confidence and pride of a self made man. I expressed my irritation at how Peru lived under the Incas and how people live now in a rather rundown country full of potential.
There is no doubt the government is corrupt and self serving but he also sees the damage done in a self inflicted sort of way. Covid was disastrous in these communities as schools shut down with no possibility of Internet learning and a whole generation lost the will to seek an education. Youngsters would prefer to work and buy a motorcycle than learn and buy a future.
Peru has a burgeoning agricultural sector too and leads the world in, of all things, snow pea production. Eat a snow pea and taste Peru. There are no seasons here and the glacial lakes provide irrigations so blackberries, peaches, mangoes and avocados grow really well. Peru is trying to surpass Mexico as the number one producer of avocados. Who knew?
We passed the time bouncing up a road that is not technically challenging but is full of rocks and holes and no maintenance and in discussing it later we both felt very happy with our choice to leave our home back at the campground.
The scenery on the drive up was impressive though it was only a hint of what was to come.
The road up to the lagoon has collapsed in a flood of water similar to all the slides we’d seen on the ghastly road to to Caraz.
Instead of driving all the way to the lagoon, 200 yards shy cars have to stop and try to make 18 point turns to face the way they came. If you didn’t know the road runs out abruptly you’d be in a pickle in a van as long as ours. Local knowledge helps.
This isn’t the National Park Service grasshopper. No signs, no explanations and no alternatives. The locals have lined up some flat rocks which I found quite slippery with ice at ten in the morning. In rainy season I guess it’s impassable. The idea of building a wooden footbridge is nowhere in sight in a culture not used to maintenance as a way of life.
It is also possible that this yawning chasm may not be the end of the collapse and next rainy season may bring who knows how much more water.
Below you can see what was the road and the soil supporting it fanned out across the valley floor.
We walked up the road which was quite pleasant after we crossed the stream and Rusty found more things to fascinate his nose than I would have guessed possible. He ran around like a prisoner just released.
Later in the day it hit him. He was so stiff and tired we gave him a muscle relaxer and he spent the afternoon in a coma sleeping in the grass in the shade. Today he is back to himself.
We met some hikers who spent several days walking the mountains but for most the lake is a selfie opportunity.
There is a rustic cafe and toilets for 25 cents a go with toilet paper but no seats. A lick of paint, some tables and chairs on the terrace, some smiles and warm welcomes would make the place more normal by my gringo standards.
Did someone say selfie?
We took each other’s pictures and then got out on the lake.
Rusty looks like he took a swim but he was actually quite dry. He hates boats and swimming and only drinks from bodies of water. He would have howled had we left him onshore but he was very subdued in the boat.
Eric:
Who took this photo of us:
The head of the lake seen from the boat.
It is an amazingly unruffled place and offers a gringo visitor a feel for what our own national parks must have looked like before asphalt and lodges and concessions and popularity. Because I am who I am I see missed opportunities for work and growth and development but I and I take a slightly guilty pleasure in being here among several dozen people who only had to pay $1:25 for the privilege. We few, we lucky few.
I can’t remember the name but this tree looks like a cross between a marine and a gumbo limbo grows in Peru and Bolivia above 10,000 feet.
And after a could have hours the wild bouncing drive back down. We neither of us felt any altitude problems except a very slight shortness of breath and no vomiting or headaches so that was actually encouraging. Eric commented on the late hour of the day and the number of cars coming at us, city people he noted scornfully as they struggled to get out of the way, “They have no idea how to drive these tracks.”
I got to be the asshole Peruvian listening to Eric sounding the horn and pushing past terrified out of towners on the hairpins. We rolled down hill with the engine off. I wore no seatbelt to wriggle around to take better pictures out of the Hilux’s narrow windows. We quickly revert to savagery but my pictures as we bounced around weren’t that great anyway.
And then we were back in agricultural country with people and fields and normal things. The awe inspired by the peaks faded and Eric stopped for no apparent reason outside a house.
Quechua flat bread tasting of wood fired oven. Delicious, and I felt like I was finally getting the idea about Peru for which I thanked Eric.
As soon as we had the barest room Eric put wheels in the ditch and we shot by. I trust I shall never grow that impatient but I was pretty impatient when I lived lived and worked in the Keys. The stress of modern life falls away when you are retired and lazy and I like this life.
Lunch isn’t just soup at the restaurant our guide took us to.
Chicken…
…or beef with apple juice and jello. Less than three bucks each and we were stuffed.
A short right of way struggle with tuk tuks and we were home.
I am a hero and later I took a tuk tuk to town (75 cents) and got money from the ATM and picked up our laundry. After four calls to Key West my card now works in Peru so thank you First State Bank of the Florida Keys, at last. In Peru you can only withdraw $100 a day per card but Layne found out Banco de La Nacion charges no fees. The others charge six bucks. Such are the minutiae of overland travel.
We got home and finally I got a nap while a bunch of motorcyclists from
Lima showed up to enjoy Eric the motorcyclist’s hostel. Tomorrow we leave. Through the mountains on what I believe is a half way decent road to the coast, through Lima (yuck) to the famous and mysterious Nazca Lines. Then Cusco and the Sacred Valley. Then Lake Titicaca. Then Chile. Phew!
