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