How high is too high?

WE DROVE THE WORLD’S TALLEST PAVED ROAD TO FIND OUT

It’s cold, and bright, and dusty, and Beige – so Beige. It’s also flat. Apart from two hills in the distance – one of them smoking, there’s almost nothing to break the endless monotony. I read the plaque with the little Spanish I can still master from my days in Cuba. It says the small smoking hill is actually a 5,976 meter-high mountain called Sabancaya. As it turns out, the modest hill also happens to be the most active volcano in Peru. The one near it is 6,300m, but dormant.

Welcome to the world’s highest highway, where the term “perspective” gets a whole new meaning. Its the tallest place on Earth accessible by a standard road car – that is, if your road car engine can breathe at a height of 4,910 meters above sea level, and of course, if you can as well.

We’re on the road to nowhere

Well, not exactly. It’s the road to Chivay – a tiny hamlet of fewer than 5,000 residents, on the southern tip of Peru. The place is famous (“famous” being somewhat of a euphemism in this specific case) for its hot springs, and for being the gateway to the massively deep Colca Canyon. Simply put, Chivay is as nowhere as nowhere gets in this world – a textbook definition of “Out there”. I hum a tune as I drive the small van up the vast, empty white clay uplands of northern Atacama desert. It takes me a while to realize it’s Talking Heads’ timeless hit;

We’re on the road to nowhere
Come on inside
Taking that ride to nowhere
We’ll take that ride
Maybe you wonder where you are
I don’t care
Here is where time is on our side
Take you there, take you there

Then, just after a long climbing straight, our guide points out to a small, gravel car park on the left side of the highway. Just a small area cleared of debris, complete with a small panel, and a few local peddlers selling ponchos. You can easily miss it, and drive-by. That is if you happen to have the right turbodiesel powered vehicle. Without it, the oxygen-thin air outside will make both you and the car struggle.

I step out into the bitter cold, squinting to protect my eyes from the dust, and the intense UV radiation. A lone Vicuña strides in the distance. They tell us they are quite rare these days, so I take a picture. The Plaque says 4,920m. I take a picture of it too.

For more stories on Peru:
* How low can you go

Earlier that morning in Arequipa, Peru

As a young kid, I was fascinated with heights. Maybe it’s something to do with our universal aspiration as humans, or perhaps it’s just my own short stature to blame – who knows. I still remember going as a small kid to the only moderately high mountain in my home country, Israel. I was so excited to step out of the car and into the winter chill at 1,600-meter elevation. When I was 10, I went on a family tour of Yosemite National Park in California and was incredibly excited to see my dad drive up Glacier Point at 2,200 meters above sea level.

I since drove some very high roads, including the top of the Cordillera Central – the highest road in the Philippines (2,400m). I zoomed a Jag F-Type up one of Europe’s highest roads – Austria’s Kaunertal glacier road, stopping only at its 2,750m top. I’ve taken a tiny off-road motorcycle up The Round Annapurna trek in Mustang, Nepal until both motorcycle and myself died near the Temple of Muktinath at close to 4,000 meters elevation.

Clearly, the path from Arequipa to Chivay was going to be a whole new record-smashing experience.

Arequipa is Peru’s 2^nd largest city that looks like a village nobody has heard of. An unassuming rundown small town at first glance but a beautifully enchanting, vibrant city once you get to know it a little. It’s one of the most beautiful South American colonial places I’ve ever visited and worthy of its own post (coming soon, I promise). Locked at 2,300m above the dry Pacific coast of Southern Peru and three massive 6,000m high volcanos, Arequipa is a place of grand vistas and pure magic. It is also the launch place to our end-target, Colca Canyon, the world’s deepest Canyon (you can read all about our visit there here).

So, at the dark wee hours before sunrise, we packed our things and headed out to a journey into the clouds…
…actually, no. This being a desert, there were no clouds to be found. The metaphor was nice, though…

Back to Earth

“Poncho Senior!” says the Local Indian merchant (I’m not sure what’s the PC term for “Native Americans” here, so I’ll leave it at that). “no gracias este costo muy dinero”, I say in broken Spanish. Luckily the locals are not picky about the usage of the local lingo. Luckily I also brought some warm clothes with me. It’s cold outside. Cold, and shortly lacking in Oxygen. Remembering the difficulties I had climbing the Kilimanjaro, and the headache I had driving up and down the dirt path of upper Nepal, I was genuinely surprised to discover, I was still relatively OK at almost 5km up and above my regular habitat. Perhaps it was the days spent in Arequipa, the Alpaca stew I had the night before, or maybe my genes got better with time. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t about to try my luck any further.

Besides, I had some warm volcanic baths to dive into on the other side of the path in Chivay. They say 3,600 meters are better for your health than 4,900. Better not risk it.