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Perhaps the confidence of the morning trek should have gone guarded for the afternoon. The trails became steeper, the mountain ridges higher and this first day's journey was in for a twist of fate, and a challenge of Spirits. Over the afternoon our team became strung out over several miles of trail. Some on horseback at the front traveled with two Peruvian guides. And several of us hiked the trail while packhorses brought up the rear. Unfortunately the lead Peruvians were in miscommunication on our planned evening campsite….so they kept on trucking forward and we followed.
Maria in the Mist of Clouds at mountain ridge camp.
Late into the afternoon we traveled along a mountain ridge that seemed to go on and on, deep slopes to each side and rugged gullies along our path. Finally we realized something was amiss…no flat protected terrain for a camp, at this elevation no wood for a fire. We had missed a turn in the trail that would have lead us to a local farm, our pre-determined campsite. As we held up in wait for everyone to catch up the wind began to blow with an eerie cold bite. Almost immediately clouds descended upon us, damp and thick as fog.
Fred in the Clouds with Horses.
The sun was minutes away from setting. We were committed to this inhospitable spot as our camp for the night. In the rear of our caravan pushing slowly through the clouds our packhorses stumbled and complained. Mountain horses don't like walking where they can not see. Over the next couple hours the damp cold settled upon us as we waited for our tents, sleeping bags and gear to find us. With horse blankets piled atop, we huddled in a gully to keep warm, my trusty Wilson Umbrella protecting four of us from the wet cloud mist. The last of our people and finally the pack animals drifted in like ghosts coming out of a looking-glass. In a bit of a frantic melody, the tents popped up.
All night the wind blew, circling about causing a flap of tents like the sound of thundering rain. The horses took to wandering the windbreak of tents pulling up tuffs of grass. To them this was just another night on the mountains and they weren't going to miss a meal.
Early Morning Rising.
In the morning the clouds still settled upon us glowed with the early sunlight. To awaken as a stranger in such a strange land was a mystical, exciting experience.
Tents in the Clouds.
The feeling was short lived, as enough was enough of the damp cold. "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" echoed like...
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