Uncharted Thoughts.

Travelling through South America has been one of the highlights of my life thus far. A happy accident that was never planned more than a couple weeks in advance. Although it has been on my lists to do, South America wasn’t high on my travel rankings. It was when I was nearing the end of my University degree that one of my closest friends called me and asked if I would like to accompany him across the Atlantic. Prior to this my plans were to head East, starting a trip in Moscow and taking the trans Siberian railway through Kazakhstan, Mongolia and into China. But due to the current war in Ukraine, these dreams never became reality and stayed dreams.

Instead, Joe (my travel friend) and I decided our destination would be South America. He had travelled Peru before, telling me tales of the landscape, its people and some of the wild adventures he had taken part in some three years prior. Within a twenty or so minuet phone call, my flights were booked and my fait sealed. I was going to South America, for how long, who knows? But I have enough money to stay out there for some time and this excited me greatly.

Santa Cruz – a day that will live in infamy.

I would have to say this was one of the scariest travel stories I have to date. Although I have gotten myself in some close shaves before and following this trip, nothing quite sends shivers down my spine like the Santa Cruz incident that took place in the late summer of 2022.

This story starts like any other, I met a American guy in my hostel, he seemed sound enough. Ex military type, dark beard, sun glasses resting on his backwards baseball cap and a flannel shirt. I know with stories like these I should remember every aspect of it, but honestly, I can’t for the life of me remember his name. Which is strange, considering he could have been the very reason my body may still be littering the Santa Cruz path. So for the sake of this tale, I will call him Ben.

On the first night I met Ben, he showed some considerable red flags, he was trying to fight three Israeli men in our dorm room. They had come in drunk at around 11pm and woke him up. I suppose some things never change, I will until further notice, go on to ignore all red flags put before me. Although the altercation was short and there was little blood shed, I did find myself warming up to this stranger. I found his moral compass strangely familiar to my own, yet his tenacity to stand up for himself was far more prominent. So, the next morning, we got talking. He was going on about doing the Huayhuash 10 day trek, but wanted to get some of the smaller trails done first. I, having done some altitude hikes before offered to join him on the Santa Cruz trek.

Now, Santa Cruz may not get to the same elevation as Huayhuash, neither is the trek as long and gruelling. But it is recommended by guides to take at least four days. The climb is long and gradual to begin with, ending in a sharp one thousand meter incline to the Punta Union. There are two ways this hike can go, from the North East, or from the South West. Coming from the South West you will ascend Santa Cruz, reach the top and walk back on yourself and return to the village Cashapampa. If you walk from the North East, you will have to traverse over the mountains by mini bus and walk from Vaqueria to Cashapampa.

As a duo we decided to take the North Eastern route, from Vaqueria to Cashapampa. This was possibly the only thing we decided on as a pair. After this Ben, the man who had never done any altitude hiking in his life was the captain of our rapidly sinking ship. The trip over the mountains in that small crowded minibus was an adventure in its own right. Although I have been lucky enough to see some incredible scenery in my time. The Andes was beyond anything I expected. There is a beauty and uniqueness in the rugged mountains, something I had never quite seen before, or since. The sharpness of the stones look like the spikes off a bikers leather gloves, a god biker, punching his way through the earths crust. The snow clings to the sharp spears perfectly, as if posing for the thousands of photographs taken of it by hikers each year. The minibus clung to the mountains edge at its mercy. Gravelly, roughly cut out roads dusted up any transparent surfaces within seconds. Our small mini bus squeezed close to the cliff faces, but when it came time to pass other cars and buses, we would be pushed to the end of the seer drops that cascade into crystal lakes below.

After three or so hours climbing up the mountain pass, taking in the land moulded by millions of years of ice and earth working in harmony to create one of the wonders of this earth we arrived at Vaqueria. It was later than we anticipated, so we decided to camp early, just outside of the village. We pitched our tents, watched the night sky that glistened with a thousand stars and fell asleep.

Our decision to arrive from the North East was by far the smartest decision of our trip into the snow caped mountains. I would highly recommend ascending this direction as you are, within three or so miles from the village Vaqueria, confronted by the giants dark fist bursting through the earths crust.

We left, early. Hiking the first four hours at a considerable pace. Climbing gradually, but consistently. We watched the ice cold river flow from the snow capped mountains, marched through brush and scattered woodland. Taking in the beauty of the clear sky above. It wasn’t till we hit a small plateau, where the trees and bushes have dissipated where I began to feel the altitude. Ben, seemed unaffected. He was quickening his pace and leaving me some ten or so meter behind.

By a lake, I recommended stopping, having some food and water and a rest. Ben was reluctant, stating that he wanted this hike completed by tonight. “tonight?” I questioned “this is a four day hike”. Ben was reluctant to listen to me, even though I was the only one with altitude hiking experience. So, after I insisted on a break, we continued up, past the 3500 meter threshold and then onto the 3800m mark. Then it hit me like a tone of bricks. My head began to throb, my vision became blurred and my muscles heavy. I stopped every mile or so, took pictures and rested. While Ben became impatient, angry almost. He tried to take some of my luggage, even though I persisted that weight was not the issue and that we should stop for the night while we still could. He hated this idea, it clashed with his egotistical idea of completing this hike in a single day.

Prior to this hike I had made sure to acclimatise the best I could, taking small day hikes into the Andes as well as staying at Huaraz (3000m above sea level). This trek was, in my mind, supposed to be another altitude tester, reaching 4.750m at its highest. Before heading on to complete the big Huayhuash.

It was at 4.650 meters that my body started to reject the altitude. First, I passed out. My eyes began to flog over completely until I had little more than a pin prick of visibility. I decided enough was enough, sat down and blacked out. I am still not sure how long I was out for, 30 seconds? 2 minuets? longer? All I remember following this was Ben picking me up and shacking me. My muscles were heavy, my legs felt like two lead tree trunks. “Shit” he said “This isn’t good”. I projectile vomited.

This blacking out, vomiting and muscle fatigue continued for what seemed like an eternity.

The next two hours were gruelling. Every ten or so steps I would have to stop, rest and hydrate then move. I would have to keep on my feet, if I sat I would not get back up. To Bens credit, he was helpful. Motivating me and keeping me above water. Yet, it was his fault we ended up in the situation. I remember suggesting to him, all those miles ago, by the lake. To stop, rest and camp the night. He threatened to go on without me if I decided that was my choice. I know from experience that it was better to stay together in these situations. So much for military training ey.

I made it to the top. But there was no time for celebration, I needed to move down, and fast. We stumbled as fast as we could down the other side of the mountain, into a green lush valley. I was becoming increasingly dehydrated as I was unable to keep fluids down for long.

Ben scouted on ahead. Determined to finish this side of today. I however had had enough. I wasn’t going to be pushed around by this ‘military’ American fool any longer. So I stopped by the river. Drank. Ate. And relaxed. It took about an hour before I started to feel composed, and an additional hour to feel ready to keep moving. But, with the view I had, and the damage done, I was in no rush.

Mr Army man shared my tent that night, because he didn’t bring his own. Nor a sleeping bag. To be honest, either the US army is the least prepared military force on the world or this man was a ‘Walter Mitty’, playing army. We both had an uneasy sleep. We listened to the glacier water flow down from the mountains, felt the rising of the cold rush through the valley from the West as we drifted in an out of consciousness.

The next day we marched on down the valley. A brightly coloured poncho man stopped us briefly, asked for our permits. We passed them over, he gazed at us with astonishment. “Amigo, you walk yesterday’s from Vaqueria?”… “Si señor” I replied with the best of my ability. He laughed. Hysterically. “Loco Gringo, you are so crazy”. I laughed, not really feeling the joke at this time, with my altitude sickness still in full swing. A sickness I wouldn’t be able to shake for almost a week following this adventure.

I would stare into the back of Bens empty skull for the next 5 hours… until arriving at Cashapampa.

What to take away from this experience?

Firstly, follow your instincts. Although I do not claim to be a altitude climber or mountaineer. I was from the start fully away of where the stop should have been taken. The first time I considered stopping was at roughly 3700 mark, this would have been a perfect place to rest our bodies and become accustom to the altitude. Rather than agreeing with Ben to continue, I should have told him the dangers, slammed my equipment down like a eight year old having a tantrum and stuck to my word. Ben was, and continued to be persistent in the fact that he would take off without me if I did and, knowing what I know now I think he would have. In my mind at the time, two is better than one and I was well aware of what could have happened if we split up.

Secondly, Don’t trust random people that claim to be US military. They either are some of the worst trained military in the world or the person who claims to be a ‘Army Ranger’ is lying. In fact, don’t trek dangerous altitudes with anyone you don’t consider a friend. These places can be nasty and loyalty is key to survival.

Finally, Altitude sickness can kill. Although I made it down, I will honestly say that this hike was by far the closest I ever came to serious peril while hiking. Yes I have taken some foolish short cuts, fallen down cliffs and fell into deep water with a 20kg backpack on. But this was the first time I felt like I was actually going to die. DO NOT DO MOUNTAINS WITHOUT A GOOD ESCAPE AND BACKUP PLAN!