Condors Take Flight

Gave up a shower this morning in the name of sleep. Heat is a luxury here, saved only for water and not for hotel rooms. Getting my body wet in the name of cleanliness sounded like one of the worst ideas possible at 5:30 a.m., 10,000 ft, winter approaching. Besides, “clean” is entirely relative.

After the usual bread and coffee breakfast, we took off for the land of condors. Millie asked me to sit next to her in the front seat so she wouldn’t have to endure the wrath of Marcus two days in a row. I readily agreed. Soon we were ten miles closer to the canyon’s greatest depths and the condors. Along the way we came upon a woman hauling a bundle of reeds the size of the front end of my car on her back and shoulders. How she managed to carry it was a miracle in itself. I can’t even fathom how she got it up there.

We made several obligatory stops in the villages that dotted the mountain road as a preface to the canyon. It was really sad. Tourism at its worst for sure. In one place, a little boy in native garb with his baby alpaca in tow was immediately at the door of the van. “Take a picture! Take a picture!” A man with a domesticated eagle on a rope(wings not clipped) stood offering the same opportunity. The villagers were lined up on display. The tourists exploiting the villagers for pure entertainment and photos to show back home and the villagers exploiting tourists for money to buy CD’s and things they see the tourists bring with them. Sad.

Before we reached the best condor viewing point, we passed through a 400 m (1320 ft.) tunnel that made me feel like I was on the Magic School Bus. Of course the tunnel wasn’t lit at all, so we plunged into the cave with our mediocre headlights. Seeing the exit brought a new meaning to “light at the end of the tunnel.”

The terraces that we saw during our canyon approach made the sightings of the day previous seem like child’s play. Hundreds and thousands of feet up on steep canyon walls were small fields of corn, potatoes and beans, crops that had found a home continuously in this exact place for more than a thousand years. Amazing. I felt so honored to be able to walk among and feel such a part of all this history.

Our arrival to the condor viewing platforms was anti-climatic, to say the least. Hundreds of tourists swarmed the cliff ledges covered in cement and rock walls. The first condor I spotted was far enough away that I didn’t get the impression of a bird with a 10 ft. wingspan weighing 30 pounds. I was however, amazed by the depth of the canyon which seemed to plummet eternally down. I wish I remembered the Grand Canyon better. When I saw it as a young girl, all I remember is thinking, “After all the warnings to stay away from the edge, it must be that a kid could probably fall in just for looking.”

I got my first breath-taking glance at the monstrosity that is the Andean condor when a swoosh above my head tore my gaze 9,842 feet from the floor of the canyon to the sky directly above my head. I felt like I had been zapped back in time to the Jurassic period when mosquitoes were the size of birds, and dragonflies were two feet long. Color me impressed. Satisfied with my fifteen minutes of condor watching, and hungrily eyeing the apparently deserted trail that skirted the cliff side off into the distance, I noted the 45 minutes left before scheduled departure and rocketed away from the masses. I am still befuddled at the complete lack of people not even 1/4 of a mile away from the hub. Seven minutes down the trail and I had the whole place to myself, and then some. As I trekked onward, I thought about how sad it is that so many people fail to appreciate and therefore fail to relish in their good fortune. It seemed like most the people on the viewing platforms were just there to check off item #63 on their “things to see” lists before moving on. Scurry to the viewpoint nearest the van door, snap a photo to show back home, and head back to town. Never mind the gorgeous purple lupine growing everywhere. Never mind the unique orange alpine flowers or the neon green birds. Never mind the robin-sized hummingbirds flitting about. How can you be in a place like that and not be completely in awe of the incredible and fortunate advantages you have in life? Just then I crested a hill on the trail and came face to face with a bull who looked like he wasn’t even going to think twice about knocking me off my soap box with his horns. I stopped dead in the trail, fight or flight adrenaline doing the rapid fire thing in my brain. I thought about Millie all warning us to be careful around the bulls in these parts as we hiked the trail yesterday afternoon. No more than seven feet between me and the unwelcoming, ground-pawing guy with the spikes. I figured I could probably disappear right back over that hill crest within five seconds if I was lucky. Two steps backward and I turned to quicken my pace and slow my heartbeat. Probably not a close call, but I wasn’t about to stick around to find out for sure.

I arrived at the van just as the group collecting had commenced; perfect timing. We stopped during our return to Arequipa to hike. I busted ahead of the group and got to spend time hanging out with our driver all by myself. He was awesome and introduced me to cactus fruit. One was like a kiwi and really sour, and the other (off a prickly pear, or “tuna”) was really sweet and bright red. Our driver was such a cool guy. He also told me all about the politics of the region and alerted me to the fact that the canyon had been closed up until two days ago because of protests. First the volcano, now this! I hope my luck doesn’t run out any time soon!

As the group loaded up in the van for the last leg of our journey back to town, Brett commented on the high quality tires. First I noted the Goodyear brand before I realized he was throwing around a little sarcasm regarding the tread. Actually, there was no tread. I chuckled to myself as I climbed in the seat right above the tire.

When we got back to town, we were once again herded as a group into a pre-arranged restaurant. Personally, I was getting sick of the “okay, now it’s time to spend your money at this venue/in this town.” I said so to Brett, and he and I ditched the group to share a much cheaper meal that we could eat in the plaza in the center of town. We met up with the group to return to Arequipa. The drive back was really rough. We drove on the shoulder of the road almost the whole way, because the asphalt was toast. We also passed a frozen waterfall, which was gorgeous. I had a great time because I got to talk to Millie the whole way back. We talked about the differences between our countries and how hard it is to get a visa to the U.S., no matter who you are. It was so rewarding to be able to interact with someone who wasn’t a tourist!

Am looking forward to my next few days when I won’t have to be immersed in other tourists!