When Alli first started this site, I thought blogs were only for vegetarians. Well, now I’m interested in sharing our experiences with you guys too and on this round, instead of just doing the photos, Alli has let me have a crack at the writing.

I’m still not a vegetarian, but here goes.

In the city of Huaraz, the surrounding mountain scape was grand, spectacular even. We chose a hotel room to make the most of the views and settled down to make inroads into our workload. The best of the meagre local restaurants, Cafe Andino, became a haven for both eating and working – the outlook was top in town and prices were dirt cheap. But after a few days in the small city, our glowing first impressions were fading fast. Come the end of our sixth day of intensive work, poor restaurant and hotel service and grimy streets, it became clear that the only paradise here was higher up and in the distance. A trip into the impressive ranges of the Cordillera Blanca had now become a necessity for some quality down-time and exercise.

Guides and tour groups are not our style and after a trip to the local outfitters we were armed with compass, maps and a bit of local advice with which to get started. At 5 am the following morning, Alli and I jumped into a ‘combi’ (shared taxi van) and headed for Vaqueria – a farming village in the mountains and our chosen starting point for the 50km Santa Cruz trail. The journey to this little settlement was mind blowing with three hours on one of the most scenic alpine roads you can imagine – an enormous landscape where icy mountain tops shed glacial flows, and waterfalls and sheer rock faces plunge down miles into pastel coloured lakes. On arrival, we unloaded our bags, declined a local bloke on his offer of a donkey or two to carry our gear and hit the trail.

We must eat less cake than other travellers because contrary to information received, the walking was easy. The track wound it’s way through a sparsely inhabited valley, decorated with a colourful patchwork of crop plantings and numerous, equally colourful, strategically positioned beggars – the kids and adults alike had their trade honed to a fine art. Lighter on dinero and dulces (cash and half our perks) we climbed the valley away from civilization and into the high country. The trail has three compulsory campsites and a strict fire ban – both factors that I was looking to make adjustments to. This being the case, we strolled through the Day One Camp and onwards into the mountains. Our surroundings kept getting better and Alli was ready to call it a day when much to her distress, I pointed out an obscure ledge high above and reckoned it to be our camp. With a relationship ‘on the rocks,’ we finally reached the camp and her disdain turned to pleasure. What a spot. Standing sentinel above us was a massive tombstone shaped rock and intimidating snow-clad peaks dominated the horizon in all directions. I have been in some really cool, wild places, but very few came with views of this scale – you simply couldn’t get your head around it. With camp made and fire cranking, we settled down for the night, in what was more or less, paradise.

Day two brought with it a climb to the high pass that heads the Santa Cruz Valley at 4750 metres above sea level. What was meant to take 7 hours took us 4 and we were just cruising. Majestic surroundings kept getting better – alpine flowers and shrubs framed a backdrop of 6000m + skyscrapers and small lakes in various shades of gemstone grade blues. Again, we passed through the designated campsite and began the detour up towards Alpamayo Basecamp. We found a very sheltered, hidden spot that was scattered with firewood and dissected by clear flowing streams. Another great place to rest for the night – a big fire and even bigger views served as further reinforcement for the merits of my ‘no public campsites’ policy.

The Basecamp detour culminates in one of the most dramatic lagoons in the range and we reached it after an enjoyable morning stroll, a bit lighter after having stashed our packs amongst tussock grass back near the turnoff to the main valley. At times, loud explosions rang out from high up the glacial flow that shed its lower flanks into the mineral blue lagoon. The sound of falling rock rattled the quiet slopes every few minutes but it was difficult to pinpoint the origin due to the imposing scale of the mountainside. The racquet that resembled gunshots turned out to be the result of explosive forces released by cracking ice and heavy rock fall. It was a restless style of mountain – everything was constantly on the move including ice, snow, water, rock and sediment. This wasn’t the kind of place to tag and run so we enjoyed our location until mid afternoon before setting off for our packs, a late lunch and continuing down the Santa Cruz Valley to find our last camp.

Caravans of donkeys dot this route, labouring hard under the cruel, unrelenting loads of pride-less, ‘couch sitter’ tourists, and the last few miles took us past (and through) the final day three camp. Unfortunately, the population of other hikers was now increasing as we neared the town at the more accessible end of the valley and just when it looked like our final camp would not equal the privacy or shelter of our previous two, we spotted an obscure location across the opposite side of the river. This turned out to be a magical place for our last night in the mountains.

Early the next morning a couple of grazing bulls busted into our confined camping space and had to be turned away before our tent got trashed. With a decent porridge breakfast under our belts we set off, following the trail as it descended from the high valley into agricultural country below, and the finish line.

Back in Huaraz, we collected our bags, did a fairly serious job on the menu at Cafe Andino and prepared for another nightmare marathon aboard inter city buses en route to Mancora. Our next adventure is on the beaches and we’re keen to give our new hammocks a lash – but that’s 26 hours away. Luckily, the coach we’re sitting on right now has big, fat-boy style leather seats so in spite of the long journey ahead, we really can’t complain.