Colca Canyon Tour

Another story based on the experiences of my son Forrest and me during our three months in Chile and Peru. If you'd like to read from the beginning of our adventure, Letter A is where it begins.

 Arequipa, Peru is high in tourism and tour-related industry. For our final week in the city, I hoped that Forrest and I might take an excursion together. I collected pamphlets around the square and comparing them, we liked the Colca Canyon tour. It offered either a day's trip to Colca Canyon or a three-day hike into the canyon. They provided meals, a tour guide, and overnight lodgings with a local family. 

“That’s too planned for me,” said Forrest. “If I hike the canyon, I’ll go on my own or with friends. And we’ll camp.” 

I suggested the day trip. “That way you can see if it’s worth an overnight trip later.” 

Forrest agreed, set everything up with the tour company, and informed the front desk of our early pickup time. 

Since the main door was not open at four a.m. a hotel employee had to arrive and unlock a side door for us. The early hour was to get us to the viewing area when the condors are most likely to be there. Seeing these impressive birds in flight over the canyon was meant to be a highlight of the excursion. 

It was very cold that early. I dressed in layers and wore my long sweater coat over a sweatshirt. 

The van had space for fifteen or twenty. I chose seats halfway back, sitting next to the window and leaving the aisle seat for Forrest. This allowed him to talk to other passengers if he felt like it, which he usually did. 

Our fellow passengers were from all over. We heard German, Russian, Italian, and French as well as Spanish and English. Arequipa is a magnet for global tourists. It is a beautiful, historic city and makes a convenient stop for those going to Cusco and Macchu Picchu. The Colca Canyon, even deeper than the Grand Canyon, is a major attraction. 

After four hours of driving, we stopped in the mountains for breakfast, provided as part of the tour. On each plate was bread and a pat of butter. Coffee or tea was available at a side table. Once everyone had entered and seated, a server came around with a modest serving of scrambled eggs for each person. 

After breakfast, people dispersed and wandered through the small grounds outside the restaurant. Near one of the buildings, two kids in traditional dress performed a dance. They were both dressed in skirts, although one was much prettier and danced more gracefully than the other one.

Back in the van, the tour guide explained that the dance was one of courtship performed by a girl and a boy dressed as a girl. The dance celebrated past Incan history, when protective parents did not want young men coming to the house to see their daughters. To get around this obstacle, the young man would disguise himself as a girl to visit his sweetheart. The parents, thinking the visitor was a girl, welcomed him into the home. It was only after several visits, once the parents got to know him and like him, that he would reveal his true gender. By that time, they were fine with it and allowed the young couple to continue their courtship. 

Our tour guide shared other interesting information as we traveled through the mountains. An earthquake some years ago had damaged many of these hill communities and caused such economic hardship it took years to recover. He pointed out where landslides had destroyed valuable grazing and crop land. 

He explained about sheep, llamas, and alpacas, all of which are raised here, and the differences between them and the yarn woven from their wool. He told us about coca leaves, how everyone chews them for energy, health and to better adapt to the high altitude. 

I had seen the loose leaves in bowls served with hot beverages. When I took herb tea, I always added several to the hot water in my cup. The guide passed a small bag for us to try, especially since we were headed to higher altitudes.  They are dry like bay leaves, and I had no desire to chew on them.

When we reached the viewpoint of Colca Canyon, we did indeed see a few condors flying over the canyon. There was a short hike to a better viewing area if we chose to go. 

Hiking up to the viewing area

Forrest had paired up with an attractive Dutch girl from our van. I walked up on my own since Forrest tended to disassociate himself with me in public. Why would he want a girl knowing that he was traveling with his mom? Understandable and it didn’t hurt my feelings. 

After the condor viewing, we drove further to where the herds of llamas were kept at 14,000 feet elevation, well beyond Arequipa at 7000 feet. Llamas thrive at these higher elevations, the guide explained. 

Upon arrival at the llama pasture, our guide invited us to walk onto the field for a closer look. The animals were peaceful and calm, he said. We wouldn’t bother them or they us. This explained why the people loved their llamas and treated them like pets, carrying the babies around in their arms, and leading full-grown ones on a leash. Once in Arequipa, I walked past a couple maneuvering a llama into the back of a taxi with the rest of their family. 

Llama faces all have that adorable little smile. No wonder everyone loves them.

Llama herd at 17,000 feet altitude

At this elevation, I became dizzy and nauseous and couldn’t walk down to the herd. I wasn't the only one affected. People were bent over vomiting and a few lay on the ground. 

I sat on a rock until I felt well enough to head back to the van. Our guide handed us cotton balls dipped in rubbing alcohol as therapy against altitude sickness. He told me to sniff it, and then he rubbed it on my forehead. Instantly, I felt normal again. 

When Forrest arrived, he said he felt fine, maybe a bit dizzy. I rubbed the cotton ball on his forehead just the same. It surprised me that he had not been affected since he came from nearly sea-level Portland, and I was living in Utah at 7000 feet. But then there were those vomiting and collapsing, so I suppose it affected people differently. 

On the drive back, we stopped at a scenic area near a river, where people could swim in the hot springs or walk along the riverbank. You could go on a twenty-minute horse ride for a small fee. I waited in line and enjoyed a brief ride with a silent, cowboy-ish guide. We clomped along a quiet paved road with a beautiful view of the river below. I could see Forrest and the Dutch girl sitting on a couple of boulders next to the river, talking and throwing stones into the water. 

Finally, it was time to return to the van and continue on down these mountains. As we reached lower elevations and drove through hilly, green fields, it felt like traveling through farm country back home. The well-tended fields of crops, cows, horses and sheep grazing in pastures, with the occasional house with its fences and gardens looked like paradise. I imagined those living in such an environment must be the happiest people on earth. Farm country in Peru was not that different from farm country in the U.S. It had that same well-ordered, peaceful aura. 

Our final stop was in a small town where a buffet dinner was offered at a hotel. Forrest and I wandered in, looked at the price and decided against it. Instead, we walked to the center of town and chose a restaurant near the park. I wasn’t hungry and just ordered a soda. Forrest bought a sandwich and fries. 

After that, it was straight down to Arequipa. 

So, we had done the Colca Canyon tour. Forrest said, "As much as everyone raves about it, I wasn't that impressed." 

I think what most impressed him was the lovely blond Dutch girl. After we disembarked in Arequipa, I noticed the two of them exchanging phone numbers. I smiled at that and thought of the Incan courtship dance. Ah, the circle of life.