Sangalle, Fure, LLahuar, and BACK

The Colca Canyon once held a place of strategic importance to the Spanish Conquistadors when they arrived in Peru, but the region was forgotten and left to itself. When is was ´rediscovered´ it had remained so isolated that the clothing styles and ways of life hadn´t changed. The women continue to wear the long skirts and embroidered hats introduced by hte Spanish hundreds of years ago.
It took 3 hours to reach the town of Sangalle at the base of the Colca Canyon It is just a peice of land that juts out at the into the Cocla river and criss crossed with fresh springs bubbling from earth. Down here are several camps, none with electricity or hot water. The thatched roof and bamboo huts were built for the tourists, and consist of a flimsy door, dirt floors, and a bed. Because of hte logistics for getting supplies down there, the main meal at every camp is spaghetti. The town in uninhabitable in the summer wet season when it starts to rain and the boulders come loose and fall like pebbles down the canyonside.
Sangalle was hte fist town as we hiked a triangle up and around the Cocla. The next stop, Fure, was deeper into the Colca, in an offshoot called the Huarare. As we headed out of Sangalle at 6am, to cross the Colca River we found an unexpected guide, the little dog from El Paraiso who began to follow us as we trudged up the mountain trail. We stopped at the top to look at the spectacular view of the Canyon and figure out the trail, and ´Perrito´ never left our side for the remainder of the trip.
At a shortcut we ended up lost in one of the terraced fields and found fruit trees, herbs, vegetables, and cacti all flourishing there. Back on hte main trail, the canyon opened up into quiet towns of little mud brick houses, terraced fields, and tiny trails leading to them.
At the top of one mountain the trail began to lead us into the Hurare River canyon. The water here is fresh and clear, and filled with trout, fed by huge waterfall from the snow melt on top of the Andes. After hiking 5 hours uphill I was getting exhausted, and Perrito was too! Finally I couldn´t take it anymore..we´d been hiking for hours, I was tired, the road never ended, who knew where Fure was...Perrito kept lying down..we all dropped down in the shade, when an old Quechuan man and a woman dressed in the traditional layered skirts and holding her belongings in a colored wrap across her back, passed us and stopped...´Fure?´we said weakly...´Oh si...It´s about 10 minutes from here...How long have you been hiking?´ ´5 hours!´we claimed almost proudly...The woman smirked and hte man just looked at us in pity...It had taken them 3 hours...They were probably in their 50´s...
No matter, we turned hte corner, and there was Fure, sitting quietly in the shade of the mountain 600 meters above the Huarare river. The town has just one tiny dirt path running through, big enough for horses to pass. There are 18 families, 1 schoolhouse, no electricity, sewage or trash. At night the women light fire in brick ovens for dinner and the smell of sour herbs and smoke drifts through the cool air. Our room was in one of the typical mud huts. It had dirt floors, and a mattress lifted onto four wood stumps. Though dark, it was incredibly cozy and warm inside. For dinner we walked next door to the owners kitchen which opened into a small garden with herbs and flowers and Corinna made us typical regional fare for lunch, potatoes with pumpkin puree and rice,and I would throw down bits of food for Perrito under the table. The next day We hiked out to the end of hte canyon to see the waterfall and got ready for another 6 hours of hiking with Perrito loyally running at our heels.
Our final stop, Llahuar is at the base of the 3rd trail back up to Cabanconde, and owned by an older couple Claudio and Yola who have bulit one of hte nicest little camps we went to. There were flowers everywhere, hots springs at the base, Claudio went out to the Huarare and fished for trout for dinner every night. Yola, was an amazing cook and fried up the fish for dinner...it was heaven. We met a group of people who were just starting their journey and shared stories with them and htey madefriendswithPerrito who refused to stay outside of the dinner room. (´Perrito, OUT!,, ROOF ROOF, ´Perrritttoo!! not the cats!¨
The next day we woke up to Perrito barking at 5:30 as usual, but when we got up he had left with the other group of people! We were kind of relieved since we didn´t really know how he would get back home ot Sangalle....
Of course with every hike down, thereisa hike up...andourfinal hike was not just up..it was UP! I´ll put it in one word...HELL!
6 hours of rocks, sand, hot sun...and endless swtichbacks up up and up without a break.
We made it to Cabanconde dirty, hungry,and completely exhausted. Took showers andsatdownfora beer, whenwe suddenly heard music comingform the back of the hotel restaurant. I ran out to see a festival of women dressed in traditional dresses,all with bags of flowers and herbs dancing in circles to a brass band. A woman in an alpaca facemask cameto Brad andpulled him out, took a liking to his dancingskills and wouldn´t let him go! Ileft for 5 minutesto the bathroomand he disappeared. 10minutes later he comes back,his hair sticking out anda look ofshock onhisface. Í just shot gunned a glass of chicha!´ (The traditional corn spirit of Peru) He´d walked outsideto watch the dancing and a bunch of drunk farmers passed a glass of chica rightinto his hands and told him to chug it! We´d walked into the Baila de Machu--a festival to celebrate the planting of hte corn. The band played hte samemusic over and over again as thewomen danced around the town square and the men drankchcia until they could barelywalk anymore.
A great ending to an amazing experience