INTO THE DEPTHS OF THE COLCA CANYON
Have you ever been disoriented?
I was.
I took this picture in Southern Peru while hiking the down the Colca Canyon. We walked down a dirt trail snaking its way through this common-looking desert ravine, thinking there wasn’t anything special about it. Nothing worth the arduous five hours drive from Arequipa. After all, what’s so unique about another dry gorge, surrounded by average looking desert hills.
Only there was nothing average about the place.
The barren “hills” that surrounded me weren’t hills at all. They were 5,500m high peaks. The bottom was nowhere as near to what I imagined either. The distant “stream” running below was no stream. It was gushing river, the Rio Colca, and it was running more than 1.5 vertical Km bellow my aching feet. I was midway down one of the world’s deepest canyons, a chasm twice as deep as the US’ Grand Canyon. I didn’t realize how big this thing really was. Worse, I didn’t comprehend I’d have to climb it back all the way up.
What the hell was I thinking!
Way bigger than you think
Colca Canyon defies comprehension. It just way bigger then one can truly grasp. Standing on the southern edge of the canyon you are easily fooled to think the other side is but a Kilometer or two away. A quick glance at the map reveals it’s about ten times that figure. Doing the quick math your left-brain start to realize the magnitude of the peaks in front of you. Your right-brain, however, is still deep in denial mode.
Blame it on the cool, crisp high desert air with its total lack of haze and dust, or the absence of snow on the highest of peaks. Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen playing tricks on me… Whatever the cause, the place is gigantic beyond comprehension.
You only get to realize it the hard way, through your feet.
Me and Julio (and Manuel and Yoav) down at the bottom
Julio was our mule. Trusty, sturdy, attentive and always willing to help. Manuel, our guide was equally charming. It took us few hours to trek to the bottom. We washed the dust off on the banks of the river (Julio preferred the nearby Alfalfa bushes) and headed to one of the few simple guesthouses that dot the bottom of the massive creek. Relaxing beneath the shade of a fruit tree, I started to realize the whole scenery looked strangely familiar. I’m not sure it was the cold soda, nor the Coca leaves I was chewing. The place WAS familiar.
Thinking Sinai
Lying just west of Israel, this vast desert expanse, now threatened by a group of ISIS-inspired jihadists, was once a very hospitable place – crisscrossed by deep canyons and lined with oases. It’s jagged mountains and ancient monasteries were the backdrops of some of the most memorable treks back in the 80s and 90s. The simple and pleasant sanctuaries of the Colca Canyon were an unexpected throwback to an older time when the Sinai peninsula was much more accessible.
I miss Sinai and hope to be able to come back there again.
I also miss the Colca Canyon. And of course also Manuel and Julio (I see Yoav every other week).
Have you visited the Colca Canyon?
Did you also find it vaguely familiar?
דן יש לך כושר תיאור שמאפשר להרגיש שעושים את הטרק הזה ביחד אתך וחוליו!!! תודה