Hello all and Happy New Year’s Eve. If you recall, I had posted on this day last year but the post was about Christmas. So staying true to that pattern, I thought I’d write a little bit about my Christmas this year. Sorry, it’s not in poem form, but I tried my best to paint a picture with my words of the images I saw this year on Christmas Eve.
So Christmas Eve. What a day. I had it in my head that I wanted to take a hike in the morning just like I had done last year during the day. Last year’s hike had been maybe an hour long and didn’t go far. I was still getting used to the altitude and to the area and might still have been a little nervous about getting lost. This year, I got it in to my head to take the same trail as last year but go farther, all the way to Circo, a high altitude lake. I had heard it was a 3 hour walk. So around 8:00 I set off for the Yuncalara waterfall with the dogs, Puma and Bobby, as company. I set off in the sunshine to see if I could make it to this place that people said was so far.
The first part I knew quite well. Once at the waterfall, I would make my way through the canyon that is full of beautiful rocks and a babbling stream that I can only assume gets its source from the mountain lake to which I was heading. I took a short break at the Campana, an area of the trail known for a rock formation that when struck sounds like a bell, and continued on. I passed through the known path in about an hour and once in Yuncapampa, I was treading new territory. Here the canyon opened up to small parcels of land on either side of the stream for pasturing animals and growing clover.
But that part didn’t last long. Soon I was entering what I will call quiñual forest part 1. I was actually glad to get out of the pasturelands because the dogs kept bothering the donkeys and cows. Anyway, then came the first part of the quiñuales. This is where I began to wonder if I was on the right path. There were many diverging trails and the one I had chosen, rather than following the brook, broke left and climbed and climbed in a direction seemingly perpendicular to the stream. As I climbed I encountered huge trees and knowing that they grow slowly, I could only imagine how old they were. It was also the section of the hike that I got incredibly fatigued.
Luckily, though still climbing, the trail flattened out significantly and made its way back to the brook and I came to quiñual forest part 2. This was the most magical part of the hike. After exhausting myself climbing up through the water-deprived quiñuales, I was rewarded with the vision of the papery red bark growing next to the brook, colors contrasting with the brilliant and vibrant green of the lichens and mosses growing on the rocks. The hike transformed from challenging to pleasant, wandering through what seemed like a secret and enchanted old-growth forest. It seemed that I was discovering new ways that the strong Andean sunlight could play on the leaves and the water at each turn.
Too soon, I emerged from that forest and found myself in the pampa, the high altiplano. No longer surrounded by the cover of the trees, I felt the vastness of the wide open space and the wind as my eyes took in the green scrubby grass and the ancient boulders spotting the plain. The cold, high altitude wind chilled me as it dried the sweat I had shed during the quiñual forest part 1. Now the path was nearly flat and I knew I had to be getting close. For some reason, I felt a sense of urgency to make it to the lake. The dogs were frolicking all over the plain and I couldn’t believe that they still had so much energy. Just over one more little hill and my eyes were treated to the feast of the vision that is Circo Lake.
The sun glinted off of the deep blue water, the colors so vibrant because of the strong equatorial light. The sun warmed but the wind whipped at my face. The dogs ran straight in to the water and began chasing birds. I walked along the shore looking for my own rock to rest and finding it, I sat down.
Now, I hadn’t set out on this hike with the goal in mind to jump in to this lake. It just turned out that I had gotten so sweaty on the way up that somewhere in the middle of the walk, I had decided that when I made it to the lake, I would reward myself with a refreshing dip.
So, I waited for the sun to come out from behind the clouds and then I prepared for the jump. I ran in to the glacial lake just as I had seen the dogs do upon our arrival (though I didn’t chase any birds). The water was cool and refreshing. Pulling myself out of the water, I stood in the sunshine a minute to dry and then sat on the rock to sun a little bit more. For fear of sounding like a hippie, it was just me and nature up there, totally alone and surrounded by landscape splendor. It felt great, refreshing and like a grand accomplishment. Merry Christmas to me.
But my hike was only half over. I took off down the mountain and through hail, rain and sun, I was back in Laraos in just under two hours and in time for the very low-key Christmas celebration with a couple of friends. Now. I know it was dangerous to hike so far by myself. But I’m pretty sure I will keep doing it because I love the feeling, the solace and the freedom that can only be found in those moments alone and surrounded by natural beauty.
I think I like this tradition that I’ve started and I hope that every Christmas Eve morning, I can go for a hike or a walk (anything active) to clear my mind, taking personal time during the holiday to meditate on what is important. And back in my room that Christmas Eve afternoon, I got to spend time (via Skype) with those people who are important. I hope that my words could capture how great this hike was. I’m not even sure that a picture could do it justice. And although I would have much rather been spending it with hot chocolate, Christmas movies, midnight church service and caroling with family and friends, I think that this one turned out pretty well too and I can always look forward to next year for those traditions. And we can add in my new one. So for next year...will anyone be up for a hike?
