The Huayhuash Circuit

I once wrote that the ascent of Chile’s Volcan Lanin was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I made that statement long before trekking the 8-day Huayhuash Circuit in Northern Peru. Here’s the story:

In late April, I crossed into Southern Peru from Northern Bolivia with my friend James, who I met awhile back in an Argentinian border town. We moved quickly North, from Puno (Peruvian border town), to Arequipa (lovely city in the South), to Lima, and finally, to the city of Huaraz (more on this place shortly).

First a quick note on Lima: I’ve written about this dynamic before, but by now I’ve developed a network of fellow South America backpackers, and I bump into them constantly. It’s awesome every time. In Lima, I saw my friend Nina, who I first met on the four-day Navimag Ferry crossing in Chile, back in December:

Back to the Peru itinerary: We had heard of a legendary trekking circuit in the North, which, according to fellow travelers and a bunch of Reddit users, had both minimal tourism and some of the nicest alpine scenery in the world. It sounded great, so we moved quickly North to Huaraz, the gateway to the trek.

The Huayhuash Circuit is a real challenge in every regard. It’s remote, entirely at high altitude, the trail isn’t marked, and the campsites have zero facilities. Each day consists of about seven hours of trekking, with significant vertical ascent over a daily mountain pass, the highest of which was nearly 17,000 feet in elevation. As such, trekkers typically use tour agencies that provide guides, chefs, and most importantly, pack mules to carry food, tents, and gear. However, after our great success on Huayna Potosi, James and I were feeling invincible, so we decided to go it alone.

There’s also a nice third option of trekking solo (i.e. no tour agency), but renting a pack mule for $10 a day. I was initially a major advocate of this approach, since carrying a 40lb pack on the Huayhuash Circuit didn’t seem at all feasible. But James vetoed the pack mule in a big way, so we carried our sleeping bags, tent, gear, and food for 8 days:

On the eve of departure, I was majorly nervous. James seemed only marginally more confident, but he did reiterate that, direct quote, “nothing can kill us, other than starvation, dehydration, altitude, or getting lost.” It wasn’t a particularly comforting sentiment, but he did have a point: we had spent nearly a week preparing to prevent each of these scenarios.

In the morning, we told the owner of our Huaraz hostel that we’d return in 8 days time. He jotted down the date, and said that should we not appear by the 10th day, he’d send a search party. It wasn’t a joke.

We then set off for the trailhead, which was in a remote village, 5 hours away by bus. Lucky for us, there were three other independent hikers starting Huayhuash that day: a French couple and a Czech guy, all of whom were in their early 40s and seemed highly experienced in the wilderness. Naturally, there was great camaraderie amongst us five. Here’s a photo of most of the crew at the second campsite, preparing dinner:

On the third day, the three other independent hikers became four other independent hikers, when, after descending the daily mountain pass, we spotted a mystery hiker from afar. The mystery hiker was James’ friend Anatole. They’d met in Chile, and successfully hitchhiked the entire Carretera Austral, a 700 mile highway through Patagonia. Anatole had known we were a few days ahead on the trail, and had taken an alternate route to catch-up. Here’s a photo of Anatole hiking towards James for a reunion in the midst of literal nowhere:

From this point on, Anatole, James and I were a team. Here’s a team photo (Anatole left, James right):

Anatole’s presence was comforting for all. A group of three felt much more secure than two, since we were trekking through a region where, if something were to go wrong, help was nowhere near. But with Anatole in the crew, my goal was no longer just to complete the trek in one piece, but also to simply keep up, since he’s a notoriously strong hiker (and unusually tall). I had a real desire to not be materially weaker than my teammates, and can report that I mostly succeeded, keeping pace on all ascents and most descents. I’ll take it.

For the first few days, the trek went nicely. It was immensely difficult, but each day we got it done. Some photos:

At the end of day three, the going got tough. It started to rain, and as it turns out, camping in constant downpour isn’t a particularly sustainable way to live. It wore us down, and we were suffering. To make matters worse, the weather forced us to alter our route around one of the mountain passes (instead of over it), effectively resulting in two days worth of hiking in a single, rainy, day. The good news: at the end of this treacherous day, we reached the one and only sign of civilization on the eight day trek — a town that was very small, but connected to the outside world by a proper road. Here’s a photo of James and Anatole reaching civilization:

We were completely exhausted upon arrival, and paid a few dollars to sleep in a guesthouse:

That night, the Czech guy informed us that he’d be quitting, and utilizing the road to the outside world. The French couple was long gone as well, having taken an alternate route to end their trek a day prior. In our weakened mental and physical state, the road to the outside world was a real temptation. We made a pros and cons list of continuing to trek. Here’s the list:

Cons of Continuing:

1. It’s raining and cold

2. Our clothes and gear are wet

3. We’re tired and our legs hurt

4. We’re supposed to ascend 4,200 vertical feet tomorrow

5. Holly’s sleeping bag is broken

6. The natives are asking for cash when we cross their land, and we’re running out

Pros of Continuing:

1. We’re not quitters

The single pro was all it took, and the next morning, we carried on. The weather cleared a day later, and we had some spectacular views on the final few days:

On day eight, we walked back into the village from where we’d started, and paid a local to drive us back to Huaraz:

Once back in Huaraz, we took our first showers in over a week and ate a lot of food (in eight days, I had lost nearly 5 pounds, and James had lost 11). Then we set off on an absurd journey into the Peruvian Amazon, which should consist of 35 hours on 5 busses and then a 3 day cargo ship down the Amazon river. After the boat, James and I will split after nearly two months of travel: he’ll continue East down the Amazon river into Colombia to meet a friend from home, and I’ll take the river North to Ecuador (in theory). Thanks for following!