Apart from the spectacular cathedrals, churches and palaces in Cusco there are some very interesting and beautiful Inca and pre-hispanic ruins in the areas surrounding the city and in the neighboring Sacred Valley. Here are a few of the ruins we visited while in the area.

Tipon

About a 45 minute drive out of Cusco and perched on a hill, are the well manicured ruins of Tipon. Tipon was a place for Incan royalty to kick back and relax. The ruins are characterised by a set of beautifully manicured terraces fed by an intricate system of water canals – some of the most impressive yet discovered – which are still in perfect functioning order. The ruins are situated about 30 minutes from Cusco and were a huge walled settlement for Inca nobility. Tipon is an example of how the Incas married water, soil, agriculture and topography to create functional yet beautiful settlements.

Tambomachay

Popularly known as El Baño del Inca or the Bath of the Inca, Archaeologists are undecided on what Tambomachay’s purpose was. It may have been used as a ceremonial cleansing site for Inca royalty and water still flows through the site today.

Ritual bathing was used as a way to cleanse sins by the Incas. Examples of sins were lawbreaking, failure of religious observances and disobeying the chief. If a man had many sins he would be risking all sorts bad things happening to him. If an Inca ruler had any sins hard times would fall on his subjects hence the importance of this site.

The most impressive part of Tambomachay is that each end of the water fountain has an identical flow rate. In other words, if you put a bucket under each of the two main fountains simultaneously you would fill them up at exactly the same rate.

Puka Pukara

Puka Pukara or “Red Fort” in the Quechua language was possibly used as a checkpoint for travelers and traders on their way to Cusco during the times of the Inca. There are some magnificent views from the top of the site of the surrounding hills and valleys. The name “Red Fort” comes from the red hue the walls give off in the evenings. Puka Pukara is situated a short distance from Tambomachay and the Inca ruler probably housed his vast staff at the fort while bathing at the royal baths.

The site consists of a set of large, roughly built stone buildings, high walls and the remains of what seemed to have been watchtowers. This is probably why archeologists think it was primarily used for military purposes. Other reasons for their thinking are its proximity to Cusco and location on the main road from the Sacred Valley.

Qenko

Qenko is thought to have been place of worship for the Inca. Weird shapes have been carved out of the rock and there is a ceremonial chamber carved out of the rock underground. The Inca were known to worship rocks and this may have been the sites primary purpose.

Sacsayhuaman

Sacsayhuaman is Inca architecture on the grandest of scales. Often incorrectly referred to as solely a fortress, it had a dual purpose for the Incas. First and foremost it was a place of worship and a site for festivals honouring the sun god – Inti. It also served as a fortress and a vast storage complex. It is undeniably spectacular. After the Spanish conquered Cusco they tore what they could of the complex down and used the stones to build their own buildings in the city below. There are very few colonial buildings in Cusco that haven’t been built out of stone from Sacsayhuaman. What was left are the parts the Spanish were simply unable to destroy nor use. 4-metre high stones make up parts of the construction, some so expertly and closely slotted between their neighbours that you can’t help wondering how it was done. Sadly, a lot has been left up to the imagination as most of the fortress was destroyed. Today the ruins are the site of the Inti-Raimi festival marking the Winter Solstice which was started in the 1940s in an attempt to resurrect a part of the Inca culture.

Pumamarca

If you get to spend some time in Ollantaytambo in the Sacred Valley, then I would highly recommend the hike up to the ruins of Pumamarca. Largely untouched and hardly visited by tourists the trail offers some spectacular scenery of the surrounding Andes. Along the route you pass through ancient farmlands where the the farming methods haven’t changed since the Incas. Little is known of what the ruins were used for – some speculate it was a checkpoint for traffic into Ollantaytambo. Nonetheless, it is a beautiful place to visit, especially on foot. Along the way you pass through tiny villages that are only reachable on foot as well as some beautiful Inca terraces and ruins.

Ollantaytambo

Perched on the side of a mountain with a beautiful, living Inca-village of the same name below, Ollantaytambo is probably the most impressive Inca ruin we visited, save for Machu Picchu. The ruin was the royal palace for Emperor Pachacuti. During the Spanish conquest, the palace served as a stronghold where Manco Inca successfully drove off a raiding Spanish party in a bloody battle. Due to its location they were able to flood the planes below the fortress and drive the Spanish out of the valley. After the battle Manco Inca fled deeper into the mountains where he was pursued by the Spanish. An unsuccessful attempt to capture him at Uiticos led him to escape to Vilcabamba – the lost city Hiram Bingham was searching for when he discovered Machu Picchu.

The ruins consist of a rather large temple housing some impressive cut stones, extensive terraces, granaries, quarries and a ritual cleansing area. We stayed the night in Ollantaytambo and were lucky enough to be the first visitors to the site the next morning which meant we could enjoy the ruins with very few other visitors. The view from the top of the ruins across the valley is spectacular. On one side you have a bird’s eye view of the town and farmlands and on the other side of the ruins you can see the tail of the snowy peaks Veronica and Salkantay with the Urubamba river snaking its way toward them.

Walking among the ruins and imagining what it looked like during the height of the Inca Empire is a fantastic experience but after one-too-many we started to suffer from the dreaded ruin-fatigue. So after visiting Ollantaytambo we decided to call it a day and not visit Pisaq, Moray and Chinchero. I think we will leave these for our next visit to Peru which is definitely going to be in the near future.

Standing on the top of Wayna Picchu all we could see were clouds. We had raced to the top to get a good lookout spot of the scenery below. It was a lung busting climb up the narrow, slippery and steep, rock-cut pathway. Slowly out of the gloom, shadows of Inca-built buildings loomed above us. Everything was either green foliage or black rock and covered in a layer of moisture. The path abruptly ended at a rock ladder sticking out of the cliff face at the top of which was a dark, wet cave. Over the steps we squeezed through the cave and onto the other side of the peak. The very top was covered in a collection of very large boulders. We staked out our spot and waited for more people to arrive and the clouds to clear. One by one more tourists came up, preceded by their heavy breathing and curses at the tiny cave they had just had to squeeze through. Still no view. A woman called up to a few people sitting on the rock and asked which way she had to go to get to the top. She had obviously not thought of going through the cave. One of the guys on top yelled something back which obviously annoyed her as she started flipping the bird at us. The group on top laughed.

Slowly but surely the sun began to thin the thick cloud and we started to see momentary glimpses of the ruins below. The rocks on top were now covered in people. The scene resembled a troupe of baboons sitting around looking for fleas in each other’s coats. For a moment Machu Picchu came into the clear only to disappear in a white haze and a flutter of camera shutter releases from the crowd behind me.

Welcome to Machu Picchu. Few words come to mind when I think about this very special place. Mystical and inspirational it is hard not to be spellbound by the sheer beauty of it’s location. Not to mention its size and ingenuity. There are a number of theories as to what it was used for by the Incas but the most widely accepted one is that it was a grand estate built by the Emperor Pachacuti in 1450 and a place of significant religious importance to the Incas. It was abandoned 100 years later as a result of the Spanish conquest but it was never plundered or destroyed by the Spanish and is one of the most intact Inca ruins ever discovered.

Talk about Machu Picchu and the name Hiram Bingham is usually mentioned somewhere in the same discussion. Famous for being the “re-discoverer” of the site in 1911, the archeologist and explorer happened upon the ruins while searching for the lost city of Vilcabamba – the last stronghold of the Inca. The story goes that his support group set up camp on a farm along the Urubamba river. Too tired to immediately start exploring the surrounding area, Bingham’s party stayed behind in their tents while he was led up a mountain by the farmer’s young son. Little did he know what was awaiting him. Up to his dying day, Bingham believed that he had discovered the lost city of Vilcabamba. It was later discovered that the real Vilcabamba was in an entirely different location. This year, Peru celebrates the centenary of Hiram Bingham’s discovery.

Getting to Machu Picchu is more a journey of patience than anything else. Our trip started in Ollantaytambo. A living Inca-village roughly 75 kilometers away from Machu Picchu Pueblo. There are only two realistic ways of reaching Machu Picchu. You can hike the Inca Trail or take the train. Both are very expensive. The Inca Trail can be done for roughly $600 per person, the 2 hour train journey can be done for US$70 roundtrip. We opted for the lazier and cheaper option and took the train. The train journey is no short of spectacular scenery though. Machu Picchu is situated above thick cloud forest and as the train winds its way along the Urubamba river, the landscape changes from high altitude grasses to thick jungle. Dramatic snow-capped peaks can be seen from either side of the steep valley along the way.

If Machu Picchu can be described as heaven, then Machu Picchu Pueblo can be described as hell. Immediately after disembarking the train you are plunged into a world of tourist shops, restaurants and hotels. The entire existence of this little town depends on the thousands of tourists that visit the site every day. At one stage Machu Picchu was enjoying 8000 visitors per day. Pressure from UNESCO to control the numbers and ensure Machu Picchu’s World Heritage status has forced authorities to limit it to 2500. This consequently, has had a negative effect on the businesses below resulting in more desperate tactics to get you to eat in their restaurant or stay in their hotel. Our hostel for instance, was rated as the best hostel in the area on Trip Advisor. It turned out to be a tiny room, with paper-thin walls. Suffice it to say, the hostel staff kept us up all night chatting in the foyer.

We sprung out of bed bleary-eyed and disorientated at 4:45am and headed for the bus stop. The bus system that takes people up to the ruins is very well organised. Busses run continuously along the 6 km route that switchbacks up the side of the mountain. Even at 5am there is a rather long line of people waiting for a bus. The ticket costs a hefty US$8 one-way. The busses however, are new and air-conditioned.

Our entrance ticket to the ruins included the optional hike to Wayna Picchu – the mountain in the background of all the classic photos of Machu Picchu. Only 200 people a day are allowed to climb to the peak. As if building Machu Picchu wasn’t enough, the Incas even built structures at the top of the mountain in fantastically perilous positions overlooking the valley below. Once the clouds at the top had cleared entirely we could see the miniature Urubamba river below. Particularly tricky sections on the way up to the summit are made easier by stairs cut out of the solid rock – courtesy of the Incas – and chains and railings courtesy of the Peruvians.

After climbing the peak we decided to do the hike down through the cloud forest to the Temple of the Moon and the Great Cavern. This is a great spot to get away from the crowds on the rest of the site and the forest is very beautiful and unspoiled. Along the way, you get to experience some pristine cloud forest. The path is hot and sweaty work and takes roughly 40 minutes before you emerge from the forest into a clearing with a few terraces and a set of caves. This is the Caverna Grande, or Grand Cavern. When we arrived here there were a few people looking around and taking pics but after a while they went back up the path. We were then able to view the Temple of the Moon, down a pathway to the side, completely on our own. For anyone who has been to Machu Picchu, you will understand the significance of this, as the main site is packed with people in every direction.

On our way back to the main site, the rain clouds started to close in and we made it to the entrance of the Wayna Picchu trek just in time to find shelter in one of the restored buildings alongside the famous sacred rock before it started to come down. It was roughly midday by this time and the site was jam packed with tourists, so before long our shelter was crammed full of people. It rained for about an hour and a half. The rain was a blessing in disguise as once it had cleared, most of the tourists had decided to leave. This meant that we were able to walk through the ruins at our leisure and get plenty of photos without people in them.

The Temple of the Sun

This temple was used to honour and celebrate the sun god – Inti. We weren’t allowed inside the temple to take a look at the giant stone set in the middle but on a specific day, the sun shines through the central window onto the stone. This was probably used to mark the day of a ceremony.

Underneath the temple is the Royal tomb where hundreds of skeletons were discovered, most of which were women. It is thought that a royal mummy could have been kept here.

The Intihuatana – The Sun Stone

The Incas used the Intihuatana as a sun dial to measure time for various reasons including agriculture. The Spanish on the other hand thought the Incas worshipped the stone and therefore destroyed every single one they could find. At other sites, in place of where the Intihuatana may have stood is a pile of rocks or a just an empty space. The Sun Stone at Machu Picchu is the only intact stone ever discovered. The name Intihuatana means “Hitching Post of the Sun” and was believed by the Incas to be the point where the sun was tethered to the earth to keep the sun god connected to the people.

The Intihuatana is situated in the centre of the main temple complex indicating its importance in the Inca religion. Unfortunately, it was damaged a few years ago when a film company smuggled equipment into the site to shoot a beer commercial and a 900kg crane chipped a piece off the corner. Had they been around today, I wonder what the Incas would have done to the crane operators.

The Funerary Rock

The Incas believed in sacrificing animals and people to appease the gods and this strangely shaped stone is believed to have been used for that exact purpose. Hiram Bingham thought the stone could also have been used as a slab for preparing mummies. Behind the stone he discovered a number of skeletons in what is believed to have been the cemetery of Machu Picchu. The Incas believed that the dead and living existed together. They were known to keep mummies of royalty in temples where they were brought out for public display during ceremonies and festivals. Sacrificial mummies were normally buried on the top of mountains and in holy places to appease the gods that lived there. Sadly, the Spanish were greatly disturbed by the way the Incas worshipped these mummies and ended up destroying all of them.

The funerary rock is also the point from which all the famous photos of the view of Machu Picchu with Wayna Picchu in the background are taken as it overlooks the entire complex.

The Temple of the Condor

The Incas were incredible craftsmen and the Temple of the Condor is a spectacular example of this. The structure has been fashioned to resemble a Condor in flight. On the floor of the temple is a rock fashioned after the head of the Condor where it is believed to have been used as a sacrificial altar. Above the temple are three stone niches where royal mummies may have been placed for worship.

The Prison

Behind the Temple of the Condor is a structure thought to have been used as a prison. Holes have been carved into stones where chains could be passed through and then shackled onto prisoners. The Incas punished people for such sins as laziness, lust or theft and depending on the degree could have been put to death.

The Quarry

The white granite used to build many of the buildings in Machu Picchu was quarried and cut on site and a section of the complex was devoted to stone masonry. Walking around the quarry you can see exactly how the Incas worked with the rock. Using primitive techniques they were able to cut, carve and polish the stone with such accuracy that they needed very little mortar to build their buildings. One of the rocks looks as though it was in the process of being cut when the site was abandoned. Here you can see how the stone masons chiseled holes into the rock, then placed wooden stakes in and poured water on the stakes to make them expand thereby forcing the rock to crack along the line of holes. This was a very effective means of separating the stones before they were carved and polished.

The Main Gate

Machu Picchu is not only spectacular in the place it was built, it also boggles the mind when you realise that each doorway and each temple is positioned to either align with a celestial body such as the sun or moon, or a significant mountain. The main gate is a fantastic example of this. It frames Wayna Picchu in the background and as you walk from this gate through the ruins you find that the positioning of each gate had some sort of significance in the way it was aligned. This may have marked a ceremonial route the Incas would have walked through the buildings. Another example is how the Intihuatana mimics a peak behind it. Not only were the Incas precision builders, they planned each building meticulously in accordance with their belief system.

The main gate is an impressive example of Inca ingenuity. A system of slots and holes carved into the rock was used to affix a giant door. To put things into perspective the lintel above the main gate weighs approximately 3-4 tons – or 2-3 family-sized cars!

Agricultural Zone & Terraces

Machu Picchu was not only used as a residence it was also a living and working town and may have been completely self sufficient. At the entrance to the ruins, on the sides and halfway down the mountain are magnificent, precision-built terraces. The terraces served two purposes. The first was to increase the surface area for planting crops such as, potatoes, coca and maize. The second reason was to control water flow and reduce soil erosion. We saw terraces all over the Sacred Valley and ruins around Cusco but the terraces at Machu Picchu seemed to be on a grander scale.

After spending a full day at the ruins we eventually had to make our way back down to Machu Picchu Pueblo to catch our train out. As if we hadn’t done enough walking already, we decided to walk back to the town rather than catch the bus. Surprisingly, the walk isn’t as tough as everybody makes it out to be. Neither is it made unpleasant by the busses that zigzag their way down, as the well kept path heads straight down and only crosses the road every now and again. It is also a lot easier to go down than up.

Machu Picchu is a spectacular place. I have really struggled to write this post about it because there are few words that can really bring the place to life on a computer screen. Even the photos we took do little justice to it. I can whole-heartedly understand why so many people year after year visit it. It is so much more than just a set of ruins on top of a mountain, it is a place that vividly tells the story of a long lost people, their culture, their religion, their achievements and their downfall. We visited many ruins while in Peru and I have to admit I did get tired after seeing so many but my energy and zeal was enlivened the moment I walked through the gates into the site. Even if you try to avoid tourist attractions to get away from it all, I still can’t recommend visiting this mystical place enough to everyone I meet.

From the very first moment you arrive in this city you feel a sense of adventure. It is different – very different from anywhere else, yet somewhat familiar. The street food vendors hawk bits of meat on a stick, others sell slices of juicy giant pineapple. One has a bag full of freshly roasted cuy’s (guinea pigs), their smiling faces mirroring the smiling face of the traditionally dressed woman negotiating a price with a customer. The smell of the offal section in the market hits you like a wall. Cow’s heads, pigs testicles – it’s all here. Waitresses yell the day’s specialty to passers-by as hungry patrons slurp their sheep’s head soup. In the centre of the market is a religious shrine surrounded by flowers and candles. Switch the statue of St. Mary with a Buddha and you could be in Bangkok. Switch the statue of the Buddha with one of Ganesha and you could be in Delhi (minus the meat of course).

The streets outside the Mercado San Pedro hum and buzz with activity. The constant stream of beat-up, old taxis fly by, rattling over the cobblestone streets. In the corner, stands a baroque-style, Spanish church. Built from Incan-cut stone. It’s red colour helps it blend in with the other buildings. It’s like walking through a 16th century European city. Beautifully preserved and wearing the scars of its history on the outside with pride for all to see.

We came here to see this. To learn about the last throes of the Incas and to see their legacy which is going through somewhat of a reawakening among Peruvians.

Cusco was once the seat of their empire – the navel of the world. At its height, the Inca ruled the largest empire on the South American continent and one of the largest on earth. And yet, our knowledge of them is very limited. Much of their history was destroyed by the Spanish conquistadors and the little that we do know is sparsely recorded in Spanish chronicles. The Incas started out as a small tribe in the city-kingdom of Cusco. In 1438, they began a rapid expansion into surrounding clans conquering and assimilating them until most of the Andes in Peru and Ecuador were under their control. After further expansions, the Inca empire covered all of Peru, Ecuador, Bolivia, a large portion of Chile and small parts of Colombia and Argentina. This is an area roughly the size of Western Europe, brought under their control in less than 100 years.

The Incas were more assimilators than conquerors. Many of their skills and knowledge was adapted from the cultures that they incorporated. And yet, they had no formal scheme of writing nor did they use the wheel. Their language, Quechua is still spoken today and in some parts of Peru is the only language.

So why are the Incas so fascinating? So alluring? I think it’s more to do with their downfall than anything else. In 1526, a man by the name of Francisco Pizarro, sailed his way down from Panama to Peru. Seeing such a prosperous kingdom and hearing stories and legends of the treasures the Inca emperor possessed, Pizarro sought royal approval from the Spanish king to conquer the region. Upon his return, the empire was in civil war and severely weakened by smallpox brought over by the Spanish in the first place. And so with just 168 men, 1 canon and 27 horses, Pizarro systematically brought the empire under Spanish control. Before long, they had almost wiped the Inca culture out entirely. Tearing down their buildings, only to build their own on top of the foundations. Today, all that is left of this once mighty civilization is the Quechua language, some traditions, the ruins of their buildings outside of Cusco and their foundations within the city.

Our nine-hour, overnight bus trip from Arequipa arrived at 6:30 in the morning. Cusco is very different from Arequipa. The most immediate difference was the state of the roads. Arequipa felt like a well looked-after, mid-90s apartment. Cusco on the other hand felt more like a rustic old farmhouse in the country. The air is thin here, 3400m above sea level. The first thing you notice is that walking around is an effort, climbing the steps to San Blas and up to some of the ruins above the city is quite the workout. Something I wouldn’t suggest doing unless you have acclimatised properly.

The streets of central Cusco are fascinating. I would rate it as my number one city for people watching and taking photographs. You do however, need to be mindful that the people aren’t your private models, and some may get annoyed if you stick a camera in their faces. On the other hand, they are quick to smile, warm and friendly. Many are descendants of the Incas or a mix thereof and are very proud of their country.

Getting lost in the central part of Cusco is a real adventure. The tiny alleyways are lined with the foundations of once mighty Inca buildings. The precision with which they built their solid stone buildings is astounding. Each stone was cut using bronze-age techniques. A hole was bored into the rock, a wooden wedge was driven into the hole and then water was poured onto the wood allowing it to expand and crack the stone free. Each stone is unique and slots in with its siblings perfectly. In some cases, it is impossible to even wedge a piece of paper between them. To increase the strength of some buildings, the stones were interlocking using a system of male and female stones. Instead of using mortar, stones were glued in place using bitumen. Walls tapered outwards as they approached the ground to increase rigidity further. This masterful style of engineering meant Inca structures could withstand the most powerful of earthquakes. And all of this was done without iron tools, nor the use of the wheel. It is with little surprise that people from all over the world come to Peru to see the Inca architecture.

One of the best sites to visit is the temple of Qorikancha. This structure was considered the very centre of the Incan empire and the name translated means Sun Temple or Temple of the Sun. The building is thought to have been a place of worship for the Incas. Judging by the precision with which it was built, it most certainly was a very important structure. The stone-masonry is incredible and there are many examples of how each stone was slotted into place to fit precisely with its siblings. Before the Spanish destroyed the building and built a church and monastery on top of the foundations, the inside walls of the temple were covered in huge plates of gold which channeled the light of the sun through the building. You can still see the points upon which the gold plates were attached. In fact, a lot of the gold used in the many cathedrals in Cusco came from Inca temples and palaces. Today, Qorikancha is a weird hybrid of Spanish and Inca architecture. The church of Santo Domingo and the Santo Domingo Convent sits on top of part of the foundations of the Inca temple. Around the sides of the old monastery courtyard, some of the Inca structure has been restored and is on display to visitors. There is also a great collection of 16th-century artwork from the Cusco school of art. To me, I find some of the artwork a bit grotesque and macabre but it does have an important place in Peruvian culture as it was used by the first converted Incas to tell stories of the saints in the Catholic church as well as the battles the Spanish had with the Incas.

Apart from visiting Cusco for its magnificent buildings, the food is also a big draw-card. The areas around the city are some of Peru’s most fertile. This is probably one of the reasons why the Incas settled and flourished here. Like the Colca Valley near Arequipa, the staple crops are maize, potatoes, onions, wheat and barley. It is also situated roughly 100km from the jungle which gives the market an incredible variety of different vegetables and fruits. The most famous delicacy of the area is what many people would regard a pet – the Cuy or Guinea Pig. If you ever visit Cusco, you need to at least try Cuy. It tastes a lot like the brown meat on a chicken, flavoured with Munya (a type of aromatic herb, not too dissimilar from oregano) and roasted in a clay oven. Another fantastic experience we had was eating in a traditional Peruvian Quinta for Sunday lunch. Quintas are large family run restaurants which are usually situated outdoors in a courtyard. The food is basic, tasty and comes heaped upon your plate. They are very popular with middle-class Peruvian families, who visit them in their Sunday best after the mid-morning church service. The menu in a quinta has about 5-6 dishes on it. It is also reasonably priced and good value – just make sure to skip breakfast if you decide to eat in one.

Cusco’s main square, the Plaza de Armas, is an electrifying sight. Due to strict building regulations and as a testament to the pride the people have in their city, it is perfectly preserved. On two sides of the square sits the imposing Church La Compaña de Jesus and Cusco Cathedral. The other two sides of the square are lined with curio shops, travel agencies and restaurants – albeit disguised to fit in with the rest of the architecture in the square. In the centre of the square is a dramatic water fountain with a statue of Tupac Amaru – the last of the Inca emperors. The centre of the square is also lined with magnificent gardens of flowers. The Plaza de Armas is not the only square in Cusco, there are several in the centre as well as a number of churches and cathedrals (we counted 10 from the San Blas hill).

The San Pedro market is one of the great experiences of Cusco. It is an assault on all the senses and we were drawn to it like a magnet. If not for glimpses of the “just plain weird” then for the fresh fruit juice and strong café pasado. Some of the aisles are dedicated solely to potatoes or avocados. There is even a rather smelly section for offal with oddities such as beef snout or sheep’s brains on display. The most popular section is the Caldo de Gallina or chicken soup section where 3 or 4 rows of people sit and gulp down huge bowls of soup throughout the day. Many just stop off for a quick snack on their way to work or on their lunch break. The Peruvians, like their Inca forebears, don’t do things in half measures. As you walk the aisles, the ladies with their tall, white top-hats yell out their wears. Some leaning over the counter in front of them handing out samples of cheese and olives.

We stayed in Cusco for quite some time at El Tuco guesthouse run by Coco and his family. A comfortable good value spot with generous and friendly hosts. Cusco is a bustling, vibrant city, full of culture, history and colour. The diesel fumes, aggressive taxi drivers and uneven sidewalks do wear the nerves thin, but the sights, sounds and smells definitely make it worth it. To recuperate from the chaos we headed out of the city into the Sacred Valley.

Each breath becomes more and more difficult. Each footstep becomes more and more deliberate. The sky deepens in colour with every meter gained. The world around you shrinks. Spikey, unfriendly grasses turn into luminous-green mosses. The colours of the mountain around me light up. Blue sky, red, yellow and orange striped mountains and the spongey green mosses. It’s like walking onto the set of a sci-fi movie. At 4800m above sea level.

It’s hard to describe this landscape and do it justice. It’s essentially a desert but there is life all around. The terrain is foreboding. Gigantic, smoking volcanoes, deep canyons and plains as flat as a pancake. Life revolves around the volcanoes and mountains. Melting snow and underground springs feed rivers and streams that pool in grassy swamps, called Bofedales. Vicuñas, Andean geese, Giant Coots, Alpacas & Llamas among many other creatures all gather in the pools to eat the nutrient rich grass and drink the fresh, cold water. The silence is pierced by sudden gusts of icy wind. You certainly feel like an alien visitor to this landscape. There is nobody for miles in any direction and you can feel effects of high altitude if you move around too quickly.

This is the South America I had come to see and photograph. It took a bit of effort to get here but it was worth it.

The Atacama desert is the driest desert on earth. In some parts the average rainfall is 1mm per year. To put that into perspective it would take 200 years to fill a tea cup. Most of the Atacama is found in Northern Chile. It is an unforgiving piece of land wedged between the cold Pacific ocean and the high mountains of the Andes. So why in the world would we choose to visit such a place? I was asking myself that same question when we left tourist-packed San Pedro de Atacama. It seemed we weren’t the only people that found the desert alluring. Our search for peace and untouched nature led us northwards to the northernmost city in Chile – Arica. Arica is a dirty, laid back, seaside city. Dirty because it almost certainly never rains here. It is however, one of South America’s most famous surf spots and many travelers make their way to this brown, drab town to surf some really good breaks. Arica is a stepping stone to one of the most magical places I have ever been: Parque Nacional Lauca and Parque Nacional Las Vicuñas. Two of Chile’s lesser known parks and probably more famous for the highway that runs between them creating Bolivia’s main trade route with the sea.

We hired a pickup in Arica from Hertz – pronounced ‘ertz’ by Spanish speakers if you are ever looking for it in a Latin America city – and headed northwest along the Chile 11 highway to the tiny village of Putre. It was Sunday so we were lucky enough to travel on a relatively quiet day. The Chile 11 highway links Bolivia with the Pacific Ocean and is the main artery through which Bolivia receives its imports and sends out its exports. Locals told us that the average truck count per day is around 800. Suffice it to say, this road gets really, really busy. Heading inland from Arica, we turned off at a town called San Miguel de Azapa to see a fantastic little museum; famous for housing the Chinchorro Mummies – the oldest mummies yet discovered. The Atacama desert provides perfect conditions for preserving human remains and these mummies have been dated to over 7000 years old, making them roughly 2000 years older than the first Egyptian mummies. The most fascinating characteristic of some of these mummies was how they were embalmed. The skin was carefully removed from the body. The internal organs and flesh was replaced with clay, vegetable fibres and animal fur. The body was then recovered with the skin and a clay mask was put over the face. Mummification was also not reserved for the elite. Everybody was mummified including newborn babies and fetuses. The museum is really well curated and I found it incredibly fascinating being able to stare 7000 years into the past at the wrinkled hands and feet of the mummies.

We continued our drive into the mountains through the Azapa Valley and Lluta Valley before meeting up again with the Chile 11 highway. The landscape in this area is quite disconcerting. The green valleys are flanked by gigantic, bone-dry, white, sand dunes – over 500m high. Nothing grows on the sides of the valleys. Not even a single dead plant can be spotted. It is really that dry. This is where the twisty climb up to the Altiplano begins. Altiplano means “High Plains” in Spanish and has an average altitude of around 3500 metres above sea level. The only plains in the world higher are those of the Tibetan Plateau. Our destination, the village of Putre sits at 3500m – the starting point of the Altiplano under the spectacular Taapaca Volcano. With a population of roughly 2000 people, it is the largest village in the region.

We based ourselves in Putre for the following week at a cozy little guesthouse on the outskirts of the village, called La Chakana. This proved to be the exact remedy to our mediocre experience of Chile thus far. Over the course of the week we drove up to the national parks and experienced some of the most pristine wilderness ever. Best of all, there was not a person in sight, let alone beige tourists donning wide-brimmed hats and silly sunburns. Parque Nacional Lauca is famous for the Payachata twins. Two gigantic stratovolcanoes. The larger of the two, Parinacota is 6348m high and is flanked by Pomerape at 6282m high. The two volcanoes are situated on the border with Bolivia and are fronted by a beautiful, deep blue lake – Lago Chungara. Hollywood wouldn’t be able to come up with a dreamier landscape.

To the south of Lauca National Park is Parque Nacional Las Vicuñas. Vicuñas are the smallest of the camel family and related to Guanacos, Llamas and Alpacas. In fact, Llamas and Alpacas were selectively bred from Vicuñas and Guanacos. The main differences between Guanacos and Vicuñas, apart from size, are that Guanacos have a black face and Vicuñas occur at altitudes above 4000m. The park is filled with them. We saw literally hundreds along the road to the salt lake of Surire – the park’s most famous attraction. Along the way we stopped off to marvel at smoking Volcan Guallatiri – featured in an episode in the Top Gear Bolivia episode. Apart where the volcanos break the earth’s surface the landscape is flat and dry and the roads are well maintained gravel roads. The Salar de Surire is a great place to spot flamingos as they are drawn to the algae-rich, super-saline water to feed.

Each day as we headed out to the national parks and the Altiplano we became more and more acclimatized to the altitude. So we decided to climb a fairly easy mountain near Putre. I had seen photos of this place before and the mountain we wanted to climb overlooked the painted mountains. Armed with a GPS, a rough description of the trail, lots of water and suncream, we set out from the Termas de Jurasi – a complex of thermal springs just outside of Putre. The trek started at an elevation of 4000m through sharp, spikey grasses along an ice-covered river. The colours of the river bed changed from bright yellows, to dark purples to deep reds. Even though we were carrying a GPS with waypoints marking the trail we got lost a couple of times and had to double back. All the time the trail took us upwards. Soon we were at 4400m and the peak of the mountain loomed up in front of us. The only direction now was straight up the sandy slope.

It was like climbing a giant sand dune in very thin air. So thin it’s a struggle to even walk. We zigg-zagged slowly back and forth. Ever closer to the summit. At this altitude there are no plants, only Llareta moss. This is one of the oldest living organisms on earth. It takes roughly a year to grow a millimeter and some of the mosses are over 3 metres long. Their abundance on north facing slopes and their bright green colour gives the illusion of luscious valleys turned upside down. At 4600m, even the mosses stop growing. There is nothing here but sand and rocks. With each step we got closer to the summit and eventually at 4860m we reached the top.

I don’t know what the mountain was called but the view was spectacular. Way below and to the north was Putre overshadowed by the snow and ice covered peaks of Taapaca. In front of us was the Cerro de Milagro; the ‘painted mountain’ as George our guesthouse host aptly described it. Behind the painted mountain were the distinctive cones of the Payachata twins. The bands of red, yellow, orange and black of the mountains in front of us made for an unreal view. It wasn’t a particularly difficult mountain to climb – we did it on our own without a guide or any climbing gear but it certainly was a unique sight.

All my mixed feelings about Chile thus far were wiped away by visiting Putre and the surrounding national parks. We often found ourselves alone in the most spectacular places we have ever been and yet it was so easy to get there. So if you ever visit Chile, don’t bother with anywhere else in the Atacama. Hire a car, drive straight to Putre but don’t mention it to any tourists along the way. Keep it a secrect it is that amazing.

I’ve been to many tourist traps in my life. In Paharganj in India, Kuta in Bali, Ao Nang in Thailand. Few measure up to San Pedro de Atacama in Chile though. A dusty little oasis in the middle of the Atacama desert, you would be forgiven for thinking you were getting away from tourists, tour groups and fancy restaurants. After a long but fantastic bus journey over the Alitplano from Salta we descended into one of the driest places on earth. The bus tipped us out and we had to go through Chilean border control and customs. Chileans are petrified – so it would seem – that you bring any fruit or vegetables into their country and so our bags had to be inspected by stoic-faced customs officials wearing latex gloves and lacking any sense of humour. I suppose digging in tourists’ dirty undies all day is not a job perk, hence the grumpy attitude.

After repacking our bags we set off down the dusty unpaved road into town. At first the little town was a little disorienting. It was late evening and every street looked the same. White washed buildings, red sandy roads and dim street lamps. The first guesthouse we stopped at wanted US$70 a night for a tiny room with ensuite bathroom. Yikes! Next guesthouse on from there was full. We were exhausted, bewildered and my pack was starting to cut into my shoulders. Eventually we were led to a hostel down the road by an overly friendly man on the street. We should have known better. Before we knew it, we had handed out $40 for a private room with shared bathroom without even having looked at the room first. Suffice it to say, it was the size of a largish coffin. It had no towels, no toilet paper, no waste basket, no plug sockets and the window didn’t close properly – something that is rather important in the desert since it get’s really cold at night. There was nowhere to put our stuff save for two wire hangers hanging on the curtain rail. We had just picked the worst value hotel in the world – according to Trip Advisor it is ranked as the worst place to stay in San Pedro.

So started out our visit to Chile. Margarét has been to Chile before. One of her favourite places was San Pedro, but a lot has changed in this sleepy village since 2005. The streets are lined with travel agents, restaurants and hostels. Everything is so overpriced it would make Bill Gates feel a little ill. A beer costs around US$5 (the bottle stores sell them for around $1), lip balm cost us $4 and restaurants are mediocre at best where a set menu was around $40 for 2 people. Everything is covered in a layer of dust even smelly hippies sitting in the square notwithstanding.

It’s not all bad though. There is a reason so many tourists come to this place in the middle of absolutely nowhere. We moved out of the worst place in San Pedro the next morning and found a much quieter and better place down the road. They even gave us a family room for the price of a double because all their double rooms were full. This place came with 4 beds, towels, a walk in closet and two rolls of double ply toilet paper every day! It turned out this was the highest rated place to stay in San Pedro, according to Trip Advisor. It was also only $20 a night more than the worst place in town.

The reason so many people come to the desert is for its sights. San Pedro sits at the northernmost point of the second largest salt flat in the world, the Salar de Atacama. It is also situated under the most spectacular vista of some of Chile’s biggest volcanoes. Every day hundreds of tourists head out on bus trips to the surrounding attractions. Some tours climb up onto the Altiplano to visit salt flats, geysers, smoking volcanoes, colourful lakes, towering columns of stone, valleys that look like Mars and the Moon. While others take people off sandboarding, mountain biking and trekking. You can even climb a 6000m volcano with very little organisation or equipment needed. Of course, these tours come at a price. How much you ask? Our half-day trip to El Tatio geysers – the second highest geyser field on earth as well as the third largest costs a cool $40 each excluding the entrance fee. That’s lot of money for anyone to pay even if it comes with a free headache due to the altitude.

There is something to be said for the natural beauty here, as well as how easy it is to see it. We took a short walk out of the town to the pre-colombian fortress of Quitor, which turned out to have a fantastic view of the Valley of Death – so called because the first Englishman to see it called it the valley of Mars which sound like the word meurte in Spanish, hence the name.

Another trip we did was for sundowners overlooking a salt lake in the Salar de Atacama. Sipping pisco sours, while the sun paints the surrounding volcanos blood red is quite an experience. Granted there were about 200 people with the same view too. We also took a trip to a dizzying 4300m at 4am to see the El Tatio geyser field. The reason for the early drive was due to the geysers being most active at sunrise. Margarét and I were wearing just about all the clothes we brought with us to brave the subzero temperatures. The field was filled with fumeroles and vents that spouted superheated steam into the air. It was quite a sight. One of the geysers is even nicknamed “The Killer” due to having killed a few tourists who got too close and fell in. Our guide told us it isn’t so much the temperature that kills you, it’s the mixture of arsenic, cadmium and sulphur that does the trick. In about 20 minutes. Not a pleasant end indeed. The drive back to San Pedro was no less spectacular alongside smoking volcanos and beautiful wetlands filled with birds. We even got see the very odd looking viscacha (kind of like a rabbit with a long tale) and vicuñas (the smallest of the camel family and only occur at altitudes above 4000m).

So San Pedro is a bit of an enigma, ask any traveller that has been there whether they liked it or not and they will usually say they loved the sights but hated the multitude of tourists. I guess you could call it Chile’s version of Disneyland – Adobeland. There is very little atacameña culture to be seen in the main part of the village and yet there is heaps of it just a short walk out of town. For us, we both came away with colds caused by the dusty and dry air. As for the Atacama desert, there are few places I have been that have such mystical appeal. Scorchingly hot during the day and positively chilly at night it is definitely a part of the world I will never forget. Just remember to bring muchos dineros (lots of cash) with you and try to keep a straight face when you get told the price of a bottle of water.

Click on the photos to view them enlarged with captions.

22 hours and 4 Adam Sandler movies later, we arrived in Salta after catching a bus at Buenos Aires’s rather seedy Retiro Bus Station. I say seedy because we were warned about the giant informal settlement next door to the station by our landlord. It reportedly houses over 100 000 people, a few of which can be seen sleeping off hangovers on the sidewalks around the station. The scenery for roughly 1250km of the way to Salta is flat. Although, I did sleep for about 5 hours of the trip and it was the middle of the night, but I did confirm with others and it is indeed true. Flat as a pancake. We arrived in Salta slightly dishevelled and were kindly collected by the owner of our next guesthouse, Tomer. An Israeli expat married to an Argentinian, Letitia. Salta is about the size of Bloemfontein and on a clear day you can see the high Andes about 25 km away.

The north is significant in Argentina’s fight for independence from Spanish colonial rule and the surrounding mountains and villages have some interesting stories about how General Belgrano won and lost numerous battles here and ultimately sent a powerful Spanish army, 4 times the size of his own, back to Europe. One of the great stories is that as the Spanish were descending onto the town of Jujuy (pronounced Hoo-Hooy), Belgrano convinced the townspeople to leave with only a few belongings and raze the town to the ground as well as spoil the drinking water. When the thirsty Spanish army arrived there was no food and no water weakening them further. Another great story is that he ordered his army to dress all the Cardon Cacti on ridges and hills in army clothing given the illusion that his force was much larger than it really was.

We didn’t get to do too many tours around Salta, but the one tour we did do was to the Humahuaca Valley, north of Salta. This area of Argentina is very scantily covered by the guide books but this doesn’t mean it isn’t worth visiting nor that isn’t picturesque. To the east of the valley the land drops down into cloud forest and eventually into the jungles of Paraguay and to the west it rises steeply into the high Andes and Altiplano.

The Humahuaca Valley sits at between 2000m and 3000m and is characterized by it’s colourful mountains and tiny Andean villages. Our first stop off was at the village of Purmamarca on the road to Chile. The village is set in front of the Cerro de Siete Colores (Hill of the Seven Colours) a spectacular hill, the sides of which are layered in different pastel colours. The little adobe village bustles with tourist traffic but quietens down once the busses depart.

Further on up the valley we passed the town of Tilcara and the reconstructed ruins of a pre-Incan city, the Pucara de Tilcara. The pucara is one of 50 outposts along the valley used by the pre-Incan peoples as a defence against invaders. It was kind of weird to think that some of the Cardon Cacti in these parts were probably around when these peoples thrived in this valley. Each cactus grows roughly 2cm per year and many were well over 4 metres tall making them nearly 200 years old.

The tour ended at the village of Humahuaca, which is about 3000m above sea level. The town is home to a gigantic monument to the heroes of the war of independence but also is more famous in recent history as the 1986 Argentinian football team visited it for high altitude training. Many of the villagers believe that this led to the team’s ultimate success. Legend has it that the players, including Diego Maradona, prayed to the virgin at Iglesia de la Candalaria y San Antonio and promised that should she help them win the World Cup they would bring it back to her. They did go on to win the cup that year but they failed to return to Humahuaca with the trophy and for this reason many of the people in the area believe that Argentina will never win the tournament ever again.

It’s a pity we didn’t get to spend more time exploring the areas around Salta. The hills and valleys are filled with pockets of Andean culture and the people are really very friendly and welcoming. Salta itself is a charming, bustling Argentinian city. The food is decent and cheaper than Buenos Aires and our accommodation was excellent and good value. After spending a few days here we decided to cross the Andes on an epic bus trip into Chile and San Pedro de Atacama.

Our double-decker bus left Salta at 7am and we managed to snag the top front seats with a full view of the road in front of us. Our trip would take 12 hours and started rather serenely as it wound through the Humahuaca Valley passed Purmamarca. Soon we were zigzagging and steadily climbing until we reached an altitude of 4300m where the road straightened out. The landscape had changed dramatically. There were no more trees and no more rivers, just rocks, sand and the Salinas Grandes, the largest salt flats in Argentina. This was my first hint of the treasures of the Altiplano. The highest planes in the world outside of Tibet. As we approached the salt flats we could start to make out the distant snowcapped volcanos of Chile. This harsh uninhabited landscape is definitely something worth seeing and the scenery got more and more dramatic as we ate up the miles. After crossing the border at (4000m) we started climbing even further. Some of the people on the bus started to exhibit the symptoms of altitude sickness (soroche as it is known in these parts), particularly one girl whose lips had turned blue and complained of a blinding headache.

Our bus eventually topped out at a heady 4800m in the Reserva Nacional los Flamencos, we were passing chunks of ice as tall as a man alongside the road. There were no plants and no animals. Just red sand and looming mountains with the odd saline lake thrown in for good measure. It is one of the most inhospitable and amazing places I have ever been, all viewed from an ordinary long distance bus trip. The drive ended as we descended into the Atacama desert alongside Volcano Licancabur (5920m) and into the dusty little oasis of San Pedro de Atacama.

More photos of the area:

December’s wallpaper is now up. It is a photo of Dhankar Lake, high up above Dhankar Monastery in the Spiti Valley. I love the way the shepherds in the pic are dwarfed by the mountains behind them. This spot is just spectacular!

Click here to download the desktop version of this image.

In an effort to keep this blog alive until we head out on our next trip, I will be releasing a set of desktop wallpapers from our various trips around the world.

Enjoy!

I love being in the mountains. The clear, thin air. The amazing views. The lack of buildings and people. Our time in the Himalayas was coming to an end but we had a few more hurdles to cross before we were back in the bustling, crazy India we had left behind 9 days ago. Our last night in the Spiti Valley would be spent at a whopping 4300m. Kibber village sits on the mountain just behind a spectacular monastery called Ki monastery. Home of the 16th Rinchen Zhangpo – The Great Translator, who was said to have translated many of the ancient Buddhist texts from Sanscrit into Tibetan and to also have built many of the monasteries in the Spiti Valley, Ladakh and the surrounding areas.

Although we had visited many monasteries on our trip thus far, every one of them was different. In this regard, Ki Monastery didn’t disappoint. The monastery is by far the biggest we had seen and is the oldest in the area – 1000 years old. It is perched on a conical hill that sticks out above Ki Village and strikes a dramatic pose against the arid backdrop of the mountains behind it. Ki is famous for its ancient Thangkas – Buddhist cloths – depicting various scenes of the life of Buddha. The monastery was empty, the monks had gone for the day to Dhankar monastery for prayers. So it was kind of weird walking around this normally busy monastery with a group of Dutch tourists.

Once the Dutch tourists had disappeared, the monk in charge of taking tourists around the monastery took us into their kitchen for chai (tea) and Tsampa cake. This was quite a special treat. The kitchen was dark, cool and surprisingly clean. The monk told us that it was his last day at his post, and that the next day he would probably be working in the fields. The cake was very sweet and had the texture of what can be described as soft fudge. The people here aren’t shy of their sugar, something which they burn in abundance trudging around at 4000m all day. We thanked the monk for his hospitality, gave a donation to the monastery and moved on to Kibber Village.

The wind had picked up and there was definitely an icy chill in the air when the sun disappeared behind the clouds. The village is set in a cleft above a high drop down to the valley floor. The people here mainly farm Yak and sheep, but there are a few pea fields above the village. Hassan took us on a fantastic walk above the village and over the ridge behind it, where we caught awesome, 360 degree views of the mountains surrounding us, the biggest of which being Kanamo Peak (5974m). Some of the mountain peaks felt as if they were within walking distance, but I am sure it was just an optical illusion and they were a lot further away. If there was any doubt in my mind that the Himalayas were once on a sea bed, it was dispelled on this hike. Lying in the dirt I managed to spot what could only be described as a portion of a fossilized sea shell. It was heavy and cold to the touch. Later that day we saw a complete fossil in our guesthouse. These were indeed sea shells, roughly the size of a man’s fist, from roughly 50 millions ago, when the Himalayas were on the ocean bed and India was just a nearby island. India then crashed into Central Asia pushing the Himalayas up at the point where the two land masses met.

On the way back from our walk, we got caught in the chaotic procession of livestock back from their day of grazing high up on the mountain. About a hundred yaks, donkeys and some sheep were chased by their shepherds, who were carrying dried dung in baskets on their backs. It was a fantastic sight to see amidst the dust kicked up by the animals. Each animal has a coloured piece of wool tied to their matted long hair to help with identification.

We spent the rest of the evening watching Bollywood music videos in the guesthouse restaurant and were treated to a fantastic dinner cooked by the Nepalese chef.

The next day we left Kibber for the first of the giant passes we needed to cross to get back to Manali – the Kunzum La at 4551m. It is the entrance pass from Spiti into Lahaul. The drive to Losar – the last town before the pass – was like much of the previous few days. Beautiful views of high, snow-capped mountains with fast flowing rivers at their bases. We could however, see that the mountains were starting to get larger and larger. This area is dotted with many peaks over 6000 meters. We ate lunch in Losar – a simple plate of dhal and chapatis – before we started on one of the most spectacular roads I have ever been on.

As you come around the bend in the valley from Losar you are greeted by the impressive Chandrabatal peaks (CB14 – 6078m, CB13 – 6264m and CB16 – 5822m) in front of you. The road this side of the pass gradually makes its way up to the top and doesn’t zigzag nearly as much as we would have expected. The view from the top of the Kunzum La was magnificent with the Chandrabatal peaks in front of us and the Chandra River winding its way through the valley below.

Our plan was to stay at Batal – 30 minutes away – but Hassan suggested we try out the road to Chandratal Lake. So we turned off on a rather precarious and narrow road. The road only got more narrow and more dangerous until Bobby, our driver, refused to go any further. So after making a 10 point turn (watching from the side of the road with our hearts in our mouths) we headed back to the dhabas at Batal. The owner of the one tent told us it gets really cold at night at Batal, so we decided to head onwards to the next dhaba stop at Chattru.

The views along the Chandra river were probably the most spectacular of our entire journey. The huge snow capped peaks rise straight from out of the river and you can see the feint blue glow of the giant Badaa Shigri glacier carving a path between them. The glacier is dwarfed under the peak of Dharamsura (6420m), but it is over 25km long and 3km wide during the hottest months of the year.

We arrived at Chattru at dusk. The sun sets very quickly in these parts as it disappears behind the mountains early in the afternoon. Our resting place for the night would be a dhaba tent, owned by locals. For those who don’t know what a dhaba is, it is a roadside cafe offering chai and food to passing travellers. The dhabas in these parts are constructed of loose stone walls and a canvas roof. In the winter, the dhaba owners dismantle the tent and move down to lower parts. We had a dinner of chowmein (fried noodles and veg) and spent the rest of the evening chatting to a group rock climbers from the UK, Mexico and South Africa. They were camped on the other side of the river and were in the area to climb some of the fantastic rock faces.

The lady in charge of the dhaba, made a bed for us on one of the stone banks on the side of the tent. Thankfully there was an abundance of blankets as it was freezing. Just after we had lain down, two shepherds (a father and his son) arrived for a cup of chai and soon the tent was filled with the hissing sound of the gas burner and the sweet smell of hashish, while the shepherds chatted softly to the dhaba owners in local language. It wasn’t the most comfortable bed, nor was it the most luxury surroundings but I loved every minute of it.

We were woken the next morning by the hiss of the gas burners starting up. It was early, probably 6am and the sunlight outside had not yet reached the tips of the surrounding peaks. We had a quick breakfast of omelettes and chapatis before heading on for the second of the great passes we needed to climb to get to Manali – the Rohtang La.

Loosely translated, the word Rohtang means “pile of corpses” and la means “pass”. It is 4000m at its highest point and is as different from the Kunzum La as can be. It is jam packed with traffic especially trucks and the surrounding landscape is much greener with grasses covering most of the mountains. Thankfully the road is much wider, which allowed us to pass other vehicles fairly easily. Two weeks before we did the pass, it had been closed due to heavy rain and all the way to the top there were teams of road workers still busy clearing the road. These passes are closed during the winter months and the Rohtang La provides access to the city of Leh, which becomes accessible by air during this time.

After passing many trucks we got to the top and took a break to take in the view. The way down was even busier and we had to wait at a few sections where cars had gotten stuck in the quagmire of mud that had become the road. We had returned to the green side of the Himalayas and the mountains were covered in pine trees and spouted waterfalls from their cliffs. The monsoon was still in full swing in this area but fortunately we had arrived on a clear, sunny day.

This was a fitting end to our spectacular trip through the Himalayas. As we zigzagged down to the valley floor and on to Manali, it was as if we were landing on earth from a strange planet. The architecture of the buildings had changed, the people’s facial features had changed (from Tibetan to Indian) and the surrounding landscape had changed. We were back in the India we had left behind 11 days ago. The chaotic, vibrant India. Overpopulated and noisy, a far cry from the valleys and villages we had left behind.

I couldn’t recommend doing this trip through the Kinnaur, Spiti and Lahaul valleys more. It is less touristed than Ladakh but has all the charm. There are however, a few things which you need to bear in mind when you visit these places. Firstly, water bottles. For goodness sake, if you buy bottled water, keep the bottles in the jeep with you. Better still, take purification tablets along and just drink the tap water. These areas are really beautiful and unspoiled and it only takes a little bit of plastic lying around to ruin them. If you see a plastic bottle lying on the side of the road, pick it up. Same goes for cigarette butts. The world is not your ashtray and the Himalayas even less so.

Secondly, if you need to go to the bathroom in the bushes, for goodness sake dig a hole first and burn or take your toilet paper with you afterwards. The dry climate of the area means that toilet paper and other rubbish doesn’t get broken down very quickly and could be lying there for years before it disappears.

The third thing is to be considerate of the cultures around you. The Dutch tourists we encountered at Ki Monastery were walking around in vests and really-short shorts. Despite being an eyesore for other tourists (especially when you hairy-shouldered bastids keep getting in the way of my photos) it is considered offensive by the local people to dress this way in monasteries. They are however, too polite themselves to prevent tourists from entering or from telling them to go change. Take a sarong with you, or better still don’t wear a vest and short shorts, and for goodness sake, wax those shoulders.

The fourth thing, smoking hashish might be considered okay in these areas but try to be considerate to other people. We were choking in our room in Mudh village while half-a-dozen Israelis were smoking up a huge party outside.

And lastly, treat the local people with the respect you would be expect to be treated. If you want grumpy, rude hotel and restaurant owners to be the norm in this area then pretend that you are in a 5-star Delhi hotel and that you are paying a ridiculous amount of money to wait for your chai or your pancake. Rather sit back, relax, be patient and enjoy your time in this beautiful place.

Note: If you would like to do the trip we did then you can contact Hassan – our guide – directly. We couldn’t recommend him, our driver Bobby and his company more highly.

Email: dosthassan@gmail.com
Mobile: 091 981 696 6571

It lay there. Its face distended and contorted in pain, frozen in shock. A pool of dried blood oozing out from under it. At first you recoil in horror, frozen in one place. Unable to go any closer. Then the curiosity starts to itch and you really need to scratch it. We walked up to the horse corpse. It looked like a violent death. The first thing that popped into my head was that it had been killed by a leopard or tiger. Hassan’s brother had told us that he had spotted a tiger in this very valley about a year ago. Save for the trauma at the rear of the horse, the body was unmarked. It couldn’t have been a predator then. So what could it have been? Human, animal or something in between? Perhaps the Yeti? A cold shiver went down my spine – we were going to sleep out there while a bloodthirsty beast was running around murdering horses.

We left the dead animal lying there and continued on our hike in silence. A bit further on we spotted a dark, ominous mound in the following meadow. As we got closer it became apparent that it was another horse. It was lying on its back, its legs splayed out in different directions, its belly swollen in rigor. As we got closer it became clear how this animal had died. There was a small, deep puncture wound about 4cm in diameter just where the belly of the animal met it’s hind leg. Whatever was killing these animals, it wasn’t doing it for food.

I turned to Hassan and told him that we didn’t feel very comfortable sleeping out here while there was a murderous yeti or human on the loose. He seemed relieved. I think he was thinking the same thing and he agreed, we would sleep in the village that night. This didn’t mean that we had to turn back immediately, so we continued our hike up the Pin Valley.

The colours in this place are amazing. At Dhankar and the Spiti Valley the landscape was dominated by the sandy colour of the land and the deep blue skies dotted with white fluffy clouds. In the Pin Valley, the hills and mountains were covered in shades of yellow, green and purple. The yellow of the grasses, the green of the pea farms and the purple of the rocks. We could see all the way down the valley to the Pin/Parvati Pass and the snow covered peaks protecting it. There was the odd herd of yak, peacefully grazing in the fields, their matted coats starting to thicken for the winter. Nowhere could be more idyllic, more beautiful and yet so wild.

We had left Dhankar monastery for this tiny village in the Pin Valley, about 3 hour’s drive away called Mudh. Mudh is the finishing point for the extreme Pin-Parvati Trek. A six day affair that takes you over giant glaciers and very high passes. Thankfully we weren’t doing the trek this time, but we were going to get the opportunity to walk a tiny section of it along the Pin river and then camp in the wilderness. Margarét and I were really excited about this prospect and after a few hours in the car, savouring the views of the snowcapped mountains alongside the Pin River we arrived in the tiny village of Mudh, where it read on the sign at the entrance: 220 Souls.

We had lunch in the village and then after hurriedly packing an overnight bag we headed out on the trail, which crossed the raging river on a rather rickety looking bridge and into fields of barley and peas, where we passed farmers harvesting their crops for the coming winter.

This is a peaceful and spectacular place but it had left a sinister feeling in the pit of my stomach after we had seen the horses. I started to think that the murderer couldn’t have been human. The people here depend on their animals and the communities are so tiny, that it was highly unlikely that somebody would do such harm to their neighbour’s livelihood. The puncture wound in the second horse was also very clean and very deep. You would need to be incredibly strong to kill an animal of that size so efficiently.

After walking for roughly an hour, the penny dropped as to what could have been the culprit. On the ridge lay a huge Yak chewing its cud. His horns were immense. We had to be dealing with a killer Yak on the loose. A short conversation with a passing shepherd confirmed our theories. A herd of Yak had had a tussle with the horses and had killed two of them. Whether the Yak were domesticated or wild will remain a mystery. In the end, be advised, not all Yaks are cute cuddly livestock.

We hiked back to the village and stayed the night in a very basic room with shared bathroom. It turns out that Mudh is a popular place to visit for youngsters straight out of the Israeli army and there wasn’t any decent place to stay. It was nonetheless a fantastic experience and I would dearly love to explore the valley more, perhaps even doing the Pin-Parvati Trek and brave the ice, snow and killer Yaks!

As there wasn’t much space in the village and it was rather full of tourists we made the call to move on to our next town – Kaza – the largest town in the Spiti Valley. On the way, we visited Kungri Monastery – another of the very old monasteries built by The Great Translator. It wasn’t very different to the other monasteries except for a strange encounter with a rather drunken monk who was sitting inside a box in one of the prayer chambers while drinking the potent beer of the region – Zingaro. We weren’t able to get an explanation as to what he was doing, but it was nonetheless a rather odd thing to see.

Kaza is a scruffy town built on the banks of the Spiti River. We used Kaza as a base to explore the high altitude monasteries on the mountain behind the town. At the risk of sounding repetitive, the surrounding area is spectacular. Over the two days we were there we visited the highest monastery in the world – Komic Monastery. We drove in our jeep from approximately 3300m to a staggering 4600m. Along the way we stopped to photograph a giant Buddha statue above the village of Langza with the 6500m Shilla peak behind it. The air is incomprehensibly clear and the sky is a royal blue colour making photography a joy. We could see the tiniest details on the peaks in the far distance.

Moving around at these altitudes takes a lot of effort. Langza is at an altitude of roughly 4300m, higher than most mountains in the Alps and Komic is at roughly the same altitude as Mont Blanc – the highest mountain in Europe. Just walking raises your heart rate and breathing becomes laboured. You can feel the air is thin on your breath and so it was a big surprise to see a monk carrying a sack of cement running passed us while we sat drinking chai in the monastery. These people are tough and the fact that they can survive here during icy winters makes me respect them even more for their tenacity.

We walked most of the way back down to Kaza. Coming down is much easier than going up and we didn’t have to walk along the road which zig-zags down the side, instead we cut across and down a ridge back into the town.

I think some of the best photos I have taken on this trip were taken at over 4000m on that particular day at Komic. The colours, light and air are just perfect. The people are also very friendly and wave and smile when you pass them by. I couldn’t imagine the trip at this point could have gotten any better. We had thus far seen so many amazing places and experienced so much that it felt like the rest of the journey would just be smooth sailing back down to reality and chaotic India.

Little did we know that the best was yet to come…

The Spiti Valley, a place so remote and so dry you wonder why anyone would ever want to live here. The average population density is 2 people per square kilometer. The mountains are high and the winters are harsh, with the higher parts getting buried under 20 feet of snow. The Spiti Valley has been carved into these mountains by the Spiti River – a raging, grey torrent that eventually joins up with the Sutlej River. The valley comes very close to Chinese-controlled Tibet and in fact, the name Spiti means “middle land” in Tibetan. The road we took into the area at one stage was only 15 kilometers from the border. The roads progressively got worse after leaving the Kinnaur Valley. The rocks on the sides of the mountains in these parts isn’t held together with tree or plant roots and Bobby – our driver – had to keep looking up toward the cliffs to see if there was any debris on its way down. Fortunately, he never had to take evasive action and judging from the size of some of the boulders lying on the side of the road, it would have probably have been futile.

The change from the green-side of the Himalayas to the dry-side couldn’t be more sudden. You literally turn a corner in the road and all but the hardiest bush disappears. The road also goes from fairly drivable to – how should I put it – challenging. You start to become all too aware of the realities of the situation if you were to get stuck or have an accident.

Our next stop would be Nako Village. Set high up on the slopes of the Reo Purgyal – the highest mountain in the area, sticking its head out at a lofty 6816m. Nako is the first village on our trip with an ancient monastery. Said to have been built and painted in one night, 800 years ago by the Rinchen Zhangpo – The Great Translator. Who is purported to have translated all the ancient Hindu-Sanscrit writings into Tibetan and said to have built over 100 monasteries in Western Tibet.

The air is somewhat cooler up here, especially when the wind blows and we could feel that winter was definitely on its way. Nako is a truely authentic, Himalayan village. Life has gone here unchanged for hundreds of years, with the only difference being the odd dusty backpacker clambering off the local bus and the sprouting up of a few guesthouses and hotels. The accommodation was comfortable yet basic and there were a couple of small places to eat across the road from our guesthouse. Like the people and the culture, the food here is Tibetan.

The most striking feature of Nako is the architecture. The flat-roofed buildings are made of mud, with steadily growing bundles of wood and animal fodder stacked on top for the winter. It felt timeless apart from the odd satellite television dish. I really loved walking around the alleyways while taking photos of the colourful red-and-white buildings against the deep blue sky. Nako is also famous for its holy lake, purported to have been blessed by his Holiness the Dalai Lama. Our guide told us that if you swim in the lake you can be liable to a fine of 2000Rp ($45).

The most memorable activities we did in Nako were visiting the ancient gompa and trekking in the nearby mountains. The gompa is very old and definitely feels that way. It is looked after by only two lamas and we managed to visit during their evening prayers. Attending Tibetan-Buddhist prayers is a very soothing and trance-like experience. Their chanting is both complicated and mesmerizing and is accompanied by the occasional beating of a drum. Sitting inside an ancient prayer room while watching this practice makes you feel as if you have stepped back in time.

Trekking in the nearby mountains is no less spiritual. The landscape is magnificent with views of the snow-capped mountains on the border with Tibet. This was the first time in my life that I had been higher than 4000m and it is definitely a lot harder to catch your breath when walking around. I could also feel a faint headache and we had to be careful to keep drinking copious amounts of water so as not to dehydrate.

I wish we could have spent more time in Nako, but we were soon on the road to our next destination – Tabo. Tabo is a slightly larger town and is at a more manageable altitude of 3200m. It is also set alongside the Spiti River, but here the valley has widened dramatically. It is a dirty town and far removed in charm from the picturesque Nako. What makes Tabo special however, is it’s monastery and gompas. In the centre of the town sits a set of what can only be described as a few indistinct mud buildings. We wouldn’t have given the place much thought apart from the insistence of our guide, Hassan, to visit them.

The main building houses a 1200 year old Buddhist mandala, so vivid and so beautiful that I would have said it had only been painted a few days ago. The walls are covered in paintings depicting the life-story of Buddha and they are adorned with beautifully carved statues of Buddha in various poses. The whole temple is kept in very dim light and the dryness of the surrounding air only adds to the preservation of this magical place. It sends shivers down my spine to imagine that the lamas were chanting the same prayers in this very room, largely unchanged, through the Industrial Revolution, the French Revolution, while Henry VIII dispatched his 6 wives, while Shakespeare was constructing his plays, while Europe was marching to the Middle East on the Crusades.

We stayed in a comfortable guesthouse in Tabo, although we had to get used to using the bucket and scoop to wash as we didn’t have a shower. Fortunately, there was hot water and the food was good. The next day we headed on to the third of the ancient monasteries we were to visit and probably the most spectacular – Dhankar monastery.

Dhankar is perched on a rocky outcrop about 2 hours drive from Tabo. It stands about 600m above the valley floor at a total of 3800m above sea level. The views of the village and the monastery are spectacular and one of my favourite things to do was sit on top of the roof of our guesthouse and just watch the village life across the valley – tiny children chasing stubborn yaks, the shepherds bringing in their flock of sheep and goats in the evenings in a cloud of dust.

We took a walk up to Dhankar lake in the afternoon, only to be surprised by a group of the village men dressed in traditional garb participating in some sort of annual horse race. It was difficult to find out from the local people what exactly they were celebrating but they were shouting and singing while picking up rocks and then hurling them on the ground in front of each other, all the while racing around in a mad frenzy of dust and hooves. After that, they did a lap around the lake and then disappeared down the hill. The small lake is icy and is fed by a stream that flows down the side of the impossibly high mountain above the lake.

The next day we visited the monastery on the other side of the valley. Like Tabo and Nako it is very old, 1000 years-old according to the lama that accompanied us around. It is said that Dhankar will be standing when the world ends, but sadly it is showing signs of gradually sliding down the mountain. Made of rock and mud, it is only a matter of time before the monks will need to abandon it and rely on the more permanent monastery set on the other side of the valley.

Of these three villages and their very old monasteries, I think I liked Nako the most and probably Dhankar second. They had both a peacefulness and simplicity about them that relaxed the soul and made you feel that you could truly forget the frantic world behind you. The next time I visit this area, I would like to stay here for a bit longer so that I can soak up the atmosphere and get to learn more about the people, their customs and their religion. It is also a world so far removed from chaotic India, that you soon forget that it is even part of the same country.