Around Ausangate

Mostly a story with a little advice. Here’s a bit about our time in Ausangate…

The idea to visit Peru had lingered for years. An on-again off-again musing, repeatedly beckoned back. The allure of off-beat landscapes, shepherd culture, and world-class trails acted like a gravity that would eventually pull too hard to ignore. One day, driving home from the Washington coast, the unavoidable conversation began, where do we go? Columbia, Bolivia, back to Europe? No, Peru! Within a day our tickets were purchased, and the planning began.

One of many small streets in Cusco, of which a disproportionate amount had vibrant colored VW bugs like this one! We initially chose to travel to Cusco rather than to Lima because we had heard about the vibrant culture here.

The vast majority of treks in Peru begin by flying to a major city, driving or flying to a smaller one, and following an ever more remote web of roads to an oft vague beginning. In our case, the journey began in Cusco. Several days celebrating the remarkable culture of this small mountain city served as the ideal acclimatization period. Day by day, we picked up missing pieces of gear. We had each packed as much as we could fit in a checked bag. In my case, camera gear, the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Southwest 3400, and an assortment of sleeping and water filtration goods. Much the same for Emily, who to this point could count her backpacking trips on one hand. The biggest challenge in Cusco proved to be the procurement of food for the trail.

All set, we caught a taxi, which took us to a bus, which took us to another taxi that would ultimately drop us somewhat randomly on the side of the road on the outskirts of Upis, a small Peruvian village. Snacking on bread we had bought on the bus ride in, we began our wander around Ausangate, ignorant to the challenges ahead. Skip ahead a few hours, most of which were spent accompanied by a local shepherd woman* heading to the same camp we were, and we hit our first road block. We had conjured a confidence that we’d be able to ascend the first major pass and make camp before dark. Instead, thunder broke through the sky*, and we had to say goodbye to our first pair of dry socks (one of my two pairs). Tails between our legs, we wandered back to the more moderate first camp we had passed earlier. Thanks to my Southwest, everything I wasn’t wearing was dry and safe (camera equipment included).

* We never learned this woman’s name, but she accompanied us for the entirety of day one. Ultimately, we would sleep outside her home after chewing coca leaves with her, her husband, and her husband’s brother. At the end of the day, the three of them walked at a brisk pace up the side of a nearby hill, disappearing around it’s edge to sleep in huts we couldn’t see.

* Naturally, around an hour after we had retreated back to camp one for the night, the sky cleared and revealed Ausangate. We would eat tuna sandwiches here before another storm would set in after dark, violently shaking our tent until midnight. These cycles are constant this time of year.

Day two started much like day one, with a fresh zeal and short memories. We wandered, wondered, and enjoyed the company of a pup named Snickers (a name we gave this pup after he had wandered from a local town and tried to steal our dinners). After saying goodbye to snickers - rather reluctantly I’ll add - we set off to conquer the first major pass, and fortunately, conquer we did! Reaching nearly 16,000 feet, headaches mostly under control, we savored our first success with the views it afforded us. We even enjoyed some spicy ramen to boost our tanks before beginning again.

No more than 15 minutes after setting out to descend to camp two, the sky and ground began to shake in synchronous. Thunder clapped, nothing… More thunder, a wait, and finally the hail began. Pelted, and increasingly soaked, we took off in a sore, sauntering run, taking only a single prolonged break in a cramped cave with rivulets of water slowly soaking us even as we hid from the storm. A memory never to be forgotten with the love of my life, yet as vulnerable as I’ve ever been. Hours later, heeding the directions of a distant shepherd fisherman*, we found our way to camp. Sun, relaxation, glory. We had seen the worst and still persisted past the point of no return.

* While this isn’t the same cabin the shepherd fisherman that helped us lives in, this accurately shows what most shepherd homes looked like. In fact, nearly every one of them has a view at least as good as this one. Makes you wonder why you live where you do…or at least it makes us wonder…

Day three was easily our most controlled and confident. That is, aside from a morning stomach issue that we both had to work through. We passed two of the highest passes on the trek, experiencing little in the way of surprise weather, and constantly reveling in our surroundings. This was the most purely beautiful day of our lives. Emily charged us up and over the 17,000 foot, highest pass, before we wandered into a suitable camp near the red lagoon*. It was here that we thought we’d get the trip’s best night of sleep. Instead a pack of local farm dogs decided to sit at the edge of our tent barking and threatening to seriously injure us, our gear, and our hopes of a trouble free trek. While they ultimately remained at bay, sleep was hard to come by that night. A pair of viscacha arms reaching under the tent door to try to steal my shoes didn’t help either. We ultimately slept draped in our gear, cramped, stressed, and increasingly exhausted. At least, though, day four was expected to be an easy hike out.

* Mariposa, pictured here and seen from camp, stood out under the best sunset of the trip. While you cannot see it, below the mountain is the red lagoon, but we unfortunately caught it in more of a grey-brown state. We believe the redness of the lagoon may be seasonal, or dependent on recent weather conditions. This evening, thunder threatened us until bed time, but never crept past the horizon. It was a bliss we thought would carry us to sleep… if only we’d avoided the attention of the three angry farm dogs…

This was not the case… Day four served us 14 miles, several thousand feet of elevation gain, rain storms, wind, an unexpected, traumatic river crossing, and so much more. Our gear held true (credit where credit’s due), and out of necessity our spirits did too. This truly was one of the great challenges we have faced, not just on this trip, but at any point in either of our lives*. Moments like these seem to crack open a reserve we don’t often get to utilize. I’m firmly of the mind that when these moments happen, they teach us who we really are, and what we’re capable of handling. By mile 14, we were skipping camps to make progress simply because our hidden reserves were pumping us full of an unexpected adrenaline. Camp was made in the dark, under the mountains we had just circumnavigated, while a soothing blanket of fog kissed the ground we were soon to collapse on.

* On a day we thought would be nearly flat, we were greeted with thousands of feet of ascent into the most dramatic mountain pass we had encountered this whole trek. All Emily wanted was to stop and make more ramen. Instead she persisted, motivated by the views in front of her like this one. How did we completely misjudge this day you ask? We honestly have no idea…

We awoke to a deep, piercing sense of bliss. For all intents and purposes, we had finished the bulk of our journey, and we had the time to savor the view of a lifetime in a camp we’d blindly found the night before*. I walked barefoot, feeling the ground as intimately as I could, knowing we would soon be back home, in a world we know all too well. The question we would soon begin to ask was, “will we ever stand here again?” In this moment, though, feeling the grass, breathing the mountain chilled air, listening to the cracking of avalanches in the distance, absorbing the morning sun, there was only bliss.

* Looking back the way we’d came, this was our view from camp. The cluster of mountains we’d spent five days walking around, looking straight down upon us. This view was a complete surprise, as we’d made camp here in a dark, fog-filled evening the night before.

This was a journey plotted rather impulsively months prior. A trek that was only chosen the day before we embarked. One which utilized knowledge and gear we had largely accumulated in a last-second flurry. I strongly believe the experience we had was defined by the amount we didn’t know, rather than the amount we did. We of course had to trust our gear to handle each inevitable surprise, but above all else, we had to trust each other. Emily, with so little experience, tackled the trip with grace and strength*. She battled sickness, altitude, unrelenting weather, and a literal mountain of type-2 fun, all ultimately so that she could see more of the world and feel life the way it should be felt.

* Emily cruising her way up the first of two major passes on day three, after we both started the day with some seriously unhappy immune systems. We simply hadn’t taken care of ourselves, and yet here she is, pushing up thousands of feet, forcing herself to feel better. I wouldn’t have shown such grace if not for her example…

The question has now shifted from will we ever be in that moment again, to where will we go next? There is no wrong choice when the journey is the motion, and the reward is the company of your love in the most special space of all, the unknown.

Gear we loved the most, in case you’re curious

• First and foremost, my Hyperlite Mountain Gear Southwest 3400. I would like to thank the HMG team for supporting me moving forward! This bag was responsible for making this trip comfortable rather than an absolute mess, and I can’t wait to rely on more of their gear moving forward! Visit them at https://www.hyperlitemountaingear.com

• Calorie rich food…of any kind

• Our reliable little off-brand stove we picked up in Cusco!

• Our sturdy rain jackets… Just make sure to have one!!!

• My On Running Cloudultras

• Our Zpacks Duplex (Maiden voyage, and it really didn’t disappoint!)

• NEMO Tensor Ultralight Insulated Sleeping Pad - I’ve never slept so well outside!

Camera Gear I Abused…and I mean it!

• Canon EOS R5

• Canon RF 70-200 F4 (I can, and will, write a whole blog about this lens…It is the reason I bought into Canon after shooting other brands for years).

• Tamron 17-35 F2.8-4 (Big mountains and big views deserve a wide angle lens here and there!)