3 hours from Arequipa, through the harsh Peruvian altiplano where only vicuñas dare to tread, you reach Chivay, the gateway to the Colca Canyon. For the next 3 hours on the bus, the dirt road deteriorates, donkey traffic increases, and the canyon gets continually deeper until you reach Cabanaconde. Technically, buses can continue, but we never saw one do so.
The highlight of a visit to Cabanaconde is supposed to be leaving Cabanaconde to hike down 4,000 feet to Sangalle on the floor of the canyon. In March, the only hint of the forthcoming dry season is the giant cacti littering the landscape. Sangalle’s nickname, “The Oasis”, is not an inspiration as you climb down through the verdant landscape of thousands of blooming wildflowers overtaking the steep trail and cliff-side. After a brief break to swim in a natural pool at the base of the canyon, the only inspiration for climbing back to the top is not having to climb anymore (and a pisco sour.)
As it turned out, aside from the relief of finally summiting the canyon, the highlights of our weekend getaway were found in Cabanaconde, a village of 1300 people. The donkeys, cows, pigs, and dogs threaten to outnumber the inhabitants. After sunset when the stray dogs get riled up, folks drinking emoliente (medicinal tea) around the plaza sacrifice some liquid to launch at the dogs. Meanwhile boys play soccer on the other side of the plaza. Girls play volleyball down an alley. One lone boy drinks rum out of a bottle in the center of the commotion. Whether we’re joining the crowd drinking hot tea in the brisk night or taking an easy stroll to a nearby viewpoint – not that any stroll is easy at 11,000 feet – everyone greets us and helps us along our way.
There are 6 buses per day between Chivay and Cabanaconde, the border “cities” of the canyon, and not many more back to Arequipa. In addition, minivans ply the route in droves, dropping off gobs of tourists to admire the views and spy for giant Andean condors at viewpoints along the way.
From 11AM to 2PM on Sunday, a marathon high-jacked the only road into and out of the canyon, delaying 2 buses and countless minivans of day-trippers. We arrived at the bus terminal as the marathon was ending, giving us the fortuitous choice of boarding either delayed bus. The compatriots that we joined were not so happy, regularly starting choruses of “VAMOS!” (Let’s Go!) and stomping on the floor. We just relaxed with our sore legs and waited, happy to be off our feet and ready to get back to city life.
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