Week 6: Altiplano or Puno y La Boda (White Wedding)

What an incredible week. One packed with beautiful customs, places, and people. Definitely my favorite week thus far. I also surpass 100 species in Perú. Read on.

Monday

The trek continues. At least something good has come out of this election; no school, and I'm still in the cloud forest.

We rise early to catch a car. We're dropped off a ways down the road. As we begin the climb, Edson gestures towards a distant peak, "we're going up there." In the meantime, numerous exquisite Tanager/Daçnis species fill my binocular views. Among species that are distinct enough to decipher are Blue-and-Black Tanagers and one incredible Saffron-crowned Tanager that recalled a shallow Caribbean bay dipped in pure gold. What a sight to watch this beauty cling from a lichen-encrusted branch.

The New World We've Entered

As we approach a rest area, I am gifted a surprise from Pachamama: a well-named and patterned birdie.

Inca Wren: Perú #100!

At the rest area, we purchase snacks, cradle chickens, and take our turns at invigoration. 

Laurel and Meg heading for the clouds

Not long after, we enter the realm of Machu Picchu. Stopping at a small and isolated ruin, we take in the sunshine and bask in the grass. After receiving our fare share of mosquito bites, Edson gifts us our hard-earned shirts and summarizes our accomplishments in this unparalleled experience. As we gaze out across the valley at the distant ruins of Machu Picchu, Edson delivers an inspiring and heartfelt speech not soon to be forgotten.

The Champions (Foto por Edson)

Machu Picchu from afar

Land of Clouds

Endless Life

From there, we descended like madmen. Hours of ascent, and an hour of descent. En route, a familiar species appeared. One that I had seen in Arizona the year before. But that bird had a different color pattern and was a pretty sought after rarity.

Slate-throated Redstart

Nearing the valley floor and the Urubamba River, we stop for lunch and ice-cream. Then we cross the river, a few at a time, for the bridge is old.

Sophia in the mix

Tropical Parulas serenaded us as we bid the Salkantay Trek adieu. Paralleling the valley, numerous Swifts and Swallows heralded our impressive finish. Then we contracted a ride out. I slept during the 6 hour return voyage.

The bug bites were worth it. 

7 lifers on the day.

Tuesday

Back to normalcy. But is Cusco really ever normalcy??

The Ashes along the river by the house are showing signs of recovery. New shoots of life burst from what had appeared to be lifeless masses of cork just days before.

In the bus, I notice that the man in front of me has a small pair of nail clippers on his keychain. Never can be too prepared...

Later that night, I head to el Centro Histórico with my class to check out a museum. Although I had heard that the Incans used small scale models to plan out their constructions, my first looks at these strikingly accurate and detailed figurines occurred at the Inca Museum. They sure beat Legos.

The historian that accompanied us presented some rousing points that have stuck with me. It is incorrect to think of the Incan empire as a thing of the past. There are numerous descendants of these people, especially in Cusco. They can be seen everyday! And their music, traditions, and customs continue to exist, i.e. Coca.

Here is a brief excerpt from El Mundo es Ancho y Ajeno by Ciro Alegría:

"La coca es buena para el hambre, para la sed, para la fatiga, para el calor, para el frío, para el dolor, para la alegría, para todo es buena. Es buena para la vida."

Wednesday and Thursday

Nothing important really transpired.

Friday 

Day 1 of excursion to Puno and Lake Titicaca.

Like usual, we arrive early to ISA to depart in a large bus. 

In and out of sleep. Passing beautiful farm fields recalling quilts and tapestries. Among this living, woven patchwork winds a handsome river in which Yellow-billed Pintail, Yellow-billed Teal, and Common Gallinules make a happy living.

Not long thereafter, a grinding metal sound calls us to pull over. It's never a good sign when your bus driver is scouring the countryside and scrounging pieces of this and that to repair the bus. But whatever it was, he was satisfied enough with his patch job to continue on. 

Awake as we cross the department line into Puno: Andean Geese, Teal, Flickers, Kestrels, and Ibis extend their welcome.

I later wake up to Marissa posing a question: "Did you see the Flamingos?" Horrified by the chance of missing a major target, I fail to summon words to respond. But my face could be read like a book.

Finally we arrive in Julieta to lunch at the mall. What is Julieta like? Imagine the rushed construction of a subdivision at the Merry Brothers Brickyard Ponds. Roads incomplete and all. You know you're in a different world when signs are in Quechua and kids come running at the opportunity to touch your hair or take a selfie with you.

A real-life Quechua lesson

The crowds in Capachica

Away from this metro area, I glimpse my first Flamingo in a river. Fortunately I didn't have to suffer too long. Inching closer towards the highest navigable lake in the world, the altiplano transitions to open water. And I mean a lot of it. So much that it's hard to wrap your mind around.

This is Paramis: Paradise.

Titicaca

Shore-bound (for now)

Okay I have to salute ISA on this one. It doesn't get much cooler than living in an indigenous community, fishing with locals, and making Quinoa crackers. That evening, we embarked in small boats to set nets.

Later we ate and then slept happily to the sound of steady rain on the roof.

1 lifer today.

Saturday

Up real early, we had to meet at the harbor at 6 to retrieve our catch. 

Sunrise

No Landlubbers

Habor

As we pulled in our nets, numerous Titicaca Grebes acted as witnesses. In this moment, the irony of the situation was not lost on me. One of the main causes of decline for this narrowly-distributed species is entanglement in fishing nets.

Our Haul

Making our way back to shore, Andean Swallows provided a breath of fresh air. I often wish I was a swallow.

One Last Take

We ate a nice breakfast before heading back to our rooms to pack up. Then back to the harbor to catch a ferry for our island-hopping voyage.

Perú is so many things

We chartered our way across the high lake, parting rafts of Titicaca Grebes and Andean Ducks and passing fisherman, never too certain of our proximity to Bolivia. Before long, patches of reeds began to appear, and before us spanned a sea of these floating grasses.

Thus was our arrival at Uros, a conglomerate of floating villages. We stepped off of the boat onto the mass of totola, reciprocating the Aimara greeting with ¡Waliki! Then our tour guide Loot combined forces with the island's president to give a breakdown of their way of life. 

Uros

Shortly thereafter, we were taken on a brief totola harvesting mission. From this boat, I experienced  absolute natural euphoria. This episode characterized my visit to Titicaca and this week in general. 

A solitary Chilean Flamingo gracefully flew overhead, commanding everyone's attention and amazement. Scores of ducks, coots, and grebes hovered on the water's surface in all directions. Wren-like Rushbirds, Many-colored Rush-Tyrants, and Yellow-winged Blackbirds mingled in the reeds. A lone Lesser Yellowlegs flew and vocalized overhead, bringing fresh tidings from America. 

At this interface between human habitation and wildness was the lake. Clean and cool, its productivity gave me life.

Chilean Flamingo

Puna Teal Pair

Titicaca Grebe

A word on the Titicaca Grebe: this bird is flightless and only occurs at Lake Titicaca. Because this Lake is shared by two nations, this species can also be found in two countries.

We left with a collective feeling of reverence for these people and their lifestyle (until we returned to Cusco where our professors cast doubt on the legitimacy of these peoples).

Onward to la Isla Amantaní. Despite never having been to the Mediterranean, the approach to Amantaní couldn't have felt more like this distant sea. Andean Gulls basked and flew over the sunny, pebbled shore as we made our way to the dock.

We made landfall and established ourselves in our new home, where our hosts graciously extended their welcome with necklaces of strung Kantuta flowers. We then jumped right into the preparation of Pachamaca: a sacred subterranean dish of chicken and potatoes.

Pachamaca

We lunched and then rested in preparation for a hike to the peak of the island to observe the sunset.

A small group of us broke off to head for the second highest peak before meeting up at the highest. White-winged Cinclodes and Sierra-Finches inhabited the parceled fields. An agitated Andean Lapwing mobbed a local lady. My first Miner sp. made a brief appearance, but decided not to stick around.

We met up with the others at the main peak, where we fanned out and explored this foreign territory. We scaled the rockfield of strewn boulders and peered over the precipitous drop-off. Rocky cliff face transitioned to fields and later to the immense lake. But the shore was so distant; Andean Gulls looked like specks of salt on the tranquil evening waters.

I caught a brief glimpse of the handsome Andean Hillstar: a jewel in this abiotic domain.

Andean Flickers went about their evening preparations as I joined Spencer in the creation of rockslides.

Finally we all regrouped, held hands, and made our offering to Pachamama. We left the holy space thinking about changes we wanted to make in ourselves.

Back down to shore, we passed through Amantaní's Plaza de Armas, a small space with a welcoming island feel.

Back at our home, we dined. Here, Loot leaned in and asked a favor: "Can you help me tomorrow?" My response was something along the lines of "Sure, why not?" I really didn't know what I had gotten myself into.

That night we dressed in traditional clothing, sang songs, and danced around a fogada with the encouragement of live music.

2 lifers on the day.

Sunday

I rise early to get a little birding in. My mind is on an elusive Falco that had been hanging in the area. As I make my way down to the shore, I am transported to a British Isles feel. People cordially greet me as I wind along the shoreline. Andean Gulls provide a port feel. Mourning Sierra-Finches wail from their distant territories, and an Andean Flicker welcomes the new morning.

I continue on familiar paths, but also extend my knowledge of the island, flirting with a morning rain shower. As I travel over well-trodden paths, I recall my day of birding with Nestor. Walking is different here; community trails are woven into peoples yards and gardens. I never feel like I'm trespassing like I do in the States.

Andean Flicker

Black-throated Flowerpiercer w/ Peruvian Sierra-Finch

Black-throated Flowerpiercer

Yellow-billed Pintail

Mourning Sierra-Finch

As the islanders placed their faith in their siembra, Perú planted a seed in me.

Happy Horses: No dogs, no Rock Pigeons, no Police

Back at breakfast, Loot announced a change in plans for the day: I was the one to be getting married. Who wants to marry him? Meg stepped up to the plate.

We rounded up our things and headed down to hop on the ferry to our next stop. This wedding stuff is actually starting to feel real.

Despite my concerns for my Peruvian legal status, it was difficult not to absorb the serenity of the Lake. As I brushed my teeth at the back of the boat, a profound feeling of peace and freedom overcame me.

Before long we were at la Isla Taquile, where we promptly made our way to the top. Again, no dogs. Here we began the wedding preparations, which really consisted of layering on a bunch of clothes. The elder that dressed me had a mouth full of coca, and I could have been getting a second-hand high from him.

The Happy Couple

After getting married, we ate a nice trout lunch and headed down to the opposite shore. We all elected to hop into the frigid waters of Titicaca, maybe even two times.

But our ideal vacation on this mystical lake was drawing to a close, so we boated on back to Puno.

At Puno, we found our fair-weather bus and hopped on.

Unfortunately I had the worst gas for this 7 hour bus ride. I also have the worse sense of smell. So I just let them fly, one after the other, thinking that I was fine. Later in the ride, Liam begged the farter to stop, describing the smell as "low tide."

No lifers on the day, but I was afforded one more look at Chilean Flamingo in passing.

Thus concludes a wonderful week of friends and natural beauty.

End of week lifer total: 10

Week 5: Trekking Across Perú

Monday:

Standing on the bridge, I notice a nice sombrero in the river. The arrival of the bus interrupts my contemplation of fetching it.

All this election crap is still going on. In Cusco, the ultimate political statement seems to be drawing an "X" on something related to your opponent.

Oh yeah, she went there

You tell 'em

Monday night. So I’m sitting with Mama Empe at the table eating dinner. She’s mentioning something about fireworks and going to see them. I’m kind of getting the gist of the conversation, but I imagine we’ll have to walk to the Avenida to see the action. Shortly thereafter, we hear two loud explosions. Running out of the house and exiting the patio, I’m surprised to see a large frame spewing sparks all over the road, sidewalk, grass, trees, and buildings. It looks like a two-story bamboo frame, and it’s hard to believe that it is so jam-packed with pyrotechnics. Three guys are in charge, lighting different wheels that produce stunning light and images. Meanwhile they’re getting showered in sparks without seeming to care much. I’m amazed at how informally this frame is placed in the street. It seems like a lot can go wrong. But everyone is relaxed. Actually, there are a bunch of people sitting around in chairs in the street. They’re very quiet, hardly acknowledging the scene that is causing me great pleasure. Some are chatting, some are pouring out a sip of their cerveza for pachamama. A live marching-style band is getting carried away. After all fuses have been lit on the explosive structure, one of the dudes carries some big ass mortars to a launch site that is supported by a hefty bucket. Three shots later, and Mama Empe announces that it’s over. But it looks like they are about to light a shrine to a loved Saint. Who’ll ever know?

Just another day in the neighborhood

Finale

Tuesday:

Tuesday morning: like it never happened. No trash, no burns, no evidence, no nuthin.

On the bus to school, kids bounced around like pingpong balls. When they have to stand, they are really at the mercy of the bus movements cause all the handholds are too high for them.

In the afternoon, I went on a field trip to el Museo Qolqampata. It was a nice place. Normally we are four in this class, but two were sick. More info on natural history, Incans, archeology. I really enjoyed it; most of it was outdoors. 

Bridging the Cultural Gap

That night, I began a dialogue with a local birder who I found on eBird. I inquired about his guide services, and we discussed a full day to the Huacarpay area. Channelling my inner Kenn Kaufman, I proposed Wednesday (I only have one class). We discussed the plan and the rates and went about our preparations.

After walking Sophia home, I ran by the ATM to withdraw money for the following day. Insufficient funds? That's a worry. I ended up going to bed really late after getting everything (except my money) together.

Wednesday

Four a.m. and time to rise. Sometimes I just don't understand how my mind convinces my body to do these sorts of things. But I had to get up early to head back into town to withdraw money. With all my gear on me (albeit hidden in my backpack), I hailed a cab to the nearest ATM. 

Funds in hand, I was quite early for my 5:20 rendezvous at el cuarto paradero. So I just decided to walk to it from town. I hoped for a flyover Nighthawk as I ambled down the sidewalk. But no luck. Just a few curious couples strolling in the in-between hours.

At the bus stop I waited. Finally a bus paused, and a man leaned out and called my name. Nestor, a local with a good hold on Peruvian avifauna and nature. As we spoke about my experiences in Cusco so far and the whereabouts of certain species of interest, I was reminded of how nice it was to relate with a person with a similar worldview.

And I needed some guidance from an expert. Books are only so interactive.

Eventually we arrived at our stop. Nestor grabbed a quick roadside breakfast and off we went. Crossing farm fields and following railroad tracks, he sized up my experience and knowledge. Boy am I glad that I solicited his services; I had contemplated doing this myself.

My first lifer came quick when we encountered a calling Streak-fronted Thornbird in the scrub surrounding a hacienda. It's nondescript looks mirrored the dry vegetation that surrounded us. As we pressed on, we wound through pre-Incan ruins that weren't anybody's priority to explore. 

A striking Variable Hawk took off from its ground level perch as Mourning Sierra-Finches produced a curious racket. Onwards, we scaled a colina to get overhead views of a small laguna. Several more lifers rapidly ensued. 

Making our way down to water level, we were afforded better looks at our subjects, including this sharp specialty.

Band-tailed Sierra-Finch

Walking along the dike supporting the marsh, wetland life abounded. Plumbeous Rails and Wren-like Rushbirds tried their best to draw my attention from the flashy Many-colored Rush Tyrant.

Back to the railroad: our own birding highway. We made our way across the busy road to check out the frequented Laguna de Huacarpay. Familiar North American migrants mingled with species new to me.

Nestor Presiding

If I were to steal a sign in Perú

Winding our way around the expansive wetland flat, we listened intently for new species or a carro.

Eventually our ride did come, and we hopped on to head to Lucre. At a certain point, the bus would go no further, and we made our way up the valley on foot. 

Country life in Perú is very distinct. The folks that we interacted with were Quechua speakers, and their attitudes were positive. Cusco's urban nature has a big effect on hospitality and friendliness. It was refreshing to re-enter this small community feel where amiability abounded and suspicion/concern was harder to detect.

Boy we walked all over the place. Following the river, we added species left and right. Black-backed Grosbeaks and Golden-billed Saltators complimented the cool flowing waters and riparian vegetation. 

Follow the leader [expert]

At one point, we were treated to prolonged looks at an impressive endemic: the Bearded Mountaineer.

Still we climbed the valley. We scoured the swift waters for the White-capped Dipper and attempted our best imitations at Peruvian Pygmy-Owl at every Eucalyptus grove.

Entering one grove, I slammed my hand into a cactus. But there was no time to extract the spines; Nestor has spotted something good.

Great Horned Owl

A familiar species to me, but very cool to see in a different situation.

Good spot Nestor. Alright, continuing on. All the while we're winding through people's yards, gardens, pens, etc.

Bird-driven

As we re-intersect with the road, something grabs my attention. Nestor!!! What is this thing!?

Chestnut-breasted Mountain-Finch

He excitedly responds with great news: another endemic!

We continue on alongside numerous trout farms/restaurants. All the while, Andean Swifts chatter eagerly above, their small yet agile bodies evading most binocular looks.

After a bit, we cross the river and head back to the start. A stop for lunch at a trout restaurant provides a lot of food and an opportunity for review.

We cover a lot of ground on foot heading back to Lucre. Eventually, we hail a cab to speed up the process.

We get dropped off and meander through more fields as White-collared Swifts zoom by like Blue Angels.

At another vantage of Huacarpay, we add a few species, including the Yellow-shouldered Blackbird and some North American Swallows.

Evening matures as we skirt past the ruins of Piquillacta and wind our way around the Laguna. At one overlook, we are spoiled by a number of Many-colored Rush Tyrants. 

True Beauty

Such Fortune

Nearby, an agitated Andean Lapwing let a grounded Mountain Caracara have it. 

Now the evening is really setting in, and we're headed for civilization. Scores of Eared Doves circle overhead. We pass wild Guinea Pigs at the water's edge.

Cui

A group of long distance bikers asks some questions and a long parade of vehicles tries to gain our support as potential voters. Nestor is a funny guy. He keeps asking which one is the candidate: we want a photo with him!

Entering Huacarpay, the string of incessantly beeping cars and trucks pass, and we arrive at the highway once more. A little patience and we catch a bus back to Cusco. I'm so drained, and I lightly doze on the ride. Thanks and goodbyes, Nestor. I hope to bird again with you soon.

Back home, I somehow muster energy to take a shower, but I don't last long after that.

Lifer total on the day: 21!!

Thursday:

Mystery solved! While walking past a group of middle schoolers, I heard that familiar song playing from a convenience store. A rare occasion where the wisdom of teenagers showed. Here is the song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-mloCL49vs

It's a shitty song. It's horribly inappropriate. But it's damn catchy.


Friday:

A day of preparation. The Salkantay Trek is tomorrow, so our group has to go to an orientation and rent some gear. None of us is willing to go out because we need to rise verrrry early. So afterwards I come home for dinner, and my host family loads me down with snacks and suggestions.

I finish my preparations by 12ish and sleep for an hour or so.

Saturday:

Flashback to Humantay. No wait, this is something different. A full day of walking on Wednesday was good preparation.

The van arrives at my place at 2:15. Music from a discotheque of sorts down the street fills the early morning air.

All of my buddies are already in the bus. Off we go. Despite our nervous excitement for what we are up against, we force our bodies into subconsciousness; we know we'll need it. 

Eventually we are forced back into reality. At Soraypampa now. It's much cooler than last time. Although the early morning scene is familiar, we're noticing new things. As we should, it's a new experience. 

Corralled into a shelter, we enjoy our first Salkantay meal: a light but fulfilling breakfast.

What else can we do but go for the throat? With a gift of coca from our capable guide Edson, we release a synchronized yelp and hit the trail.

Off to the Races

There are lots of people around at the start. A few lifers trickle in early on: Andean Goose, White-winged Diuca-Finch, and Black Siskin. Severity and incline increase.

"Gringo Killer"

Approaching Salkantay pass, the snowline appears. The landscape is barren, uninviting. Hail begins to fall as we take a sandwich and coca tea respite at la abra. The weather is looking iffy, but we decide to visit a little known alpine lake.

Abra

Gonna Make It

Conditions quickly intensify and worsen. Each step is critical. The frigid air burns my face, and precipitation (in various forms) begins to soak my clothing. 

Visibility

Peruvian Art: Author Unknown

Eventually we make it to the overlook without issue. We briefly glimpse the cobalt colored lake before visibility drops off. 

After a short stay, we make our way back to the Pass to find nobody in attendance. Approaching miserable condition, we begin our descent.

The descent was characterized by incessant rain, muddy steps, and low morale. The trail was transformed into a small river. Only my torso had been spared by my poncho. Feet and legs were soaked.

After what seemed like forever, we spotted our lunch location. We were entering a different clime.

At lunch, we crammed into a tent. All of us were in near-hypothermic condition, but you wouldn't have believed everyone's positive attitudes. Soup warmed us up good. Afterwards, some elected to change clothes, but this seemed like a vain undertaking to me.

Silver Cascades

Not long after, we hit the trail again, descending into bona fide cloud forest. Elfin trees hosted new species of warblers and hummingbirds. Unfortunately, daylight was drawing to a close.

We reached our campsite at night, ate a nice dinner, and hit the hay. We were exhausted and glad to be retiring in dryness and warmth.

Home

End of day lifer total: a respectable 10

Sunday:

Waking early, Edson visits each door to gift a scalding cup of coca tea. Today should be a more relaxed day.

The morning chorus is a promise of opportunity. An unfamiliar compilation of songs is punctuated by familiar phases from thrushes and sparrows. After breakfast we're out. 

Day 2 of Salkantay is paradise. Finally we're in the jungle, crossing swift rivers on foot bridges and navigating narrow trails under mature canopy. Here and there we cross a section of trail scarred by landslide where steep drop-offs mean certain death.

El Camino

Paraíso

Bird life is more interesting. The jewel of North American songbirds may be warblers, but the jewel of South American songbirds is the tanager group. Along the trail, I picked up three new tanager species. Despite constantly scanning the rapids for Torrent Duck, none seemed to be present.

Following the Urubamaba River, we came upon a cute little rest area where we refueled and took a break. I was thus granted much needed time to search and photograph.

Cinnamon Flycatcher: 1

Cinnamon Flycatcher: 2

Spunky Tufted Tit-Tyrant

House Wren fulfilling its namesake

It was then time to cross the River. But this wasn't just any river crossing.

La Canasta

Surviving independent shuttles across the river, we continued on as rain began to fall. Eventually we left the mature jungle and arrived at a road. A car was waiting to shuttle us to Lucmabamba, where we were to have a coffee experience.

Here, we walked through the process of making coffee, sampling at each stage. A female Silvery Tanager moved through the low coffee canopy as a striking Tropical Parula foraged nearby.

Across the street we found our home for the evening. Lunch was served, we donned our swimsuits, and hopped on a van to Santa Teresa.

What's worth seeing in Santa Teresa? Cocalmayo: a series of warm springs with a European feel.

En route we jammed to early 2000's pop favorites: the driver had clearly met his fair share of young American tourists. Santa Teresa was packed due to election excitement.

We had two hours to relax and heal at the hot springs. The natural mineral waters certainly rejuvenated our tired out bodies. While lounging in the water, we encountered two other ISA students from Lima and shared stories.

The best kind of clinic

Feeling much better, we made our way back to camp in the dark. All of us wished the drive would continue forever because the hits kept coming, and we wished to sing all night.

But eventually we made it to our home where we dined and jammed to Perpetual Groove, Chicago, Greta Van Fleet, and the Grateful Dead. Later we sat around the fire and shared tricks and watched Laurel as she attempted to detonate a beer.

The day having caught up with us, we got ready for bed. But not before we gawked at the luminous Andean night sky. Shooting stars abounded, and we made sure that there were enough for all. 

End of day lifer tally: 9

End of Week Lifer Tally: 40!!!!!