When you have a destination front of you, it can capture your focus and attention completely. It isn't very often that you put much thought into getting back home other than the logistics, but every once in a while you get a little bonus adventure for your oversight. Coming back from Hatun Machay was one of those times.
After the second day of pushing ourselves, Tree decided it was time to go for him. He had a lot on his mind with his first baby coming soon, so it was definitely understandable.(His daughter Soleil was born yesterday, congratulations to him and his courageous wife Stevie) Unfortunately, nearly the entire group staying in the refuge decided they wanted to leave also. This posed a bit of a problem as there is only one shuttle(large van) and two taxis that are willing to make the trip up there; all the seats were taken but one. I told Tree to take it no problem, I didn't have to be back for another day so I would catch it the next night. "I can take the shuttle tomorrow night right?" I asked the owner. "Yes no problem, it leaves every night at 5:30.", he replied.
Fast forward 22 hours: "So there's a bit of a problem, the shuttle isn't coming tonight.", the refuge host informed me." Haha of course not...
It was now Saturday night and I needed to catch the overnight bus in order to be back in Lima before work on Monday. So I asked the host what my options were. He gave me two: 1) you can hike up to the top of one of the nearby peaks and call one of the taxis(costs 120 soles), the peaks aren't terrible but climbing another 1,000ft when you're already above 13,000 sucks just to make a phone call for an expensive taxi. 2) hike down to the main road between Huaraz and Lima, hitchhike to the nearby town, Catac, then take a bus to Huaraz. As I thought about my options he asked, "You have a cellphone right?". Mine was dead. Well at least I didn't have to make any decions, strike two...
The hike wasn't bad, only a little over an hour and almost entirely downhill no cause for concern. What did concern me a little was the fact that it was starting to hail and I didn't have a rainshell with a hood, it was approaching night time, I was relying on hitchhiking for 100km, and I'm still working on that whole speaking Spanish thing. I've become pretty comfortable with myself in uncertain circumstances, so I headed out without too much worry in my mind. Turned out to be a great decision.
I'm an incredibly social person but spending time alone in nature is one of the best feelings there is. It's completely, well, natural. There are no unnecessary distractions, no people, no cars honking, no houses, no need to think of conversation, just fresh air and beautiful landscape. It felt really good to just walk and take a few pictures. I didn't think profound thoughts, I didn't "discover myself", I didn't have any epiphanies other than that I needed this from time to time. It was great, but as I started down the valley toward my hitchhiking destination I could see the road stretch out for about two kilometers in front of me, and over the next thirty minutes I only saw one car pass by going the wrong direction. Then, with about 200 yards to go, I saw a car coming in the distance. I ran down the mountain startling the grazing livestock as I passed, and reached the road just in time to run across and flag down the car. Thankfully it stopped, and without a single word the driver opened the back and reached out for my bag. I looked inside to do a quick safety check; the car was full. One in the front seat, and three Andean dressed women in the back seat. I wasn't sure what he had in mind for me to fit, but as I looked down the road and saw nothing but the growing darkness I handed over my bag and said, "Yo tambien?", offering to get in the back of the station wagon. The man shook his head and said there was room in the back. I opened the door and without hesitation the women scooted together so there was just enough room for me to squish in with them. Gotta love the lack of hesitation in helping out a stranger!
The next 100km riding in the packed car were really entertaining. They were full of questions about the U.S and why exactly I was hitchhiking out there in the dark. The cultural exchange was nothing short of hilarious. It felt really good to communicate in Spanish with them and I was relieved to find out that I could communicate everything I wanted to say. Sure it wasn't pretty but they understood. We covered just about everything from food to whether or not I would take the woman's daughter back to the states with me! Seriously, she asked, making me laugh until the blank stare on her face(and her daughter's) made me think she might not be kidding. Oddly enough I was more caught off guard when the asked me who I thought should win the election. I can't picture too many people in tiny mountain towns in the U.S being interested in Peru's presidential elections. To top it off the guy in the front seat was named Willard! What are the odds? They dropped me off in Catac where I could catch my bus to Huaraz, and even where to find the same quality bus back to Lima at half the price(which turned out to be a blessing and a curse). I thanked them sincerely, and a few hours later I was sitting in the gravel lot with a bus ticket for Lima in my pocket, my second beer in my hand, and feeling pretty darn good about myself.
"Canned Heat" by Jamiroquai came on in my earbuds and my second beer was getting low in my hand when a couple things came to my attention. First, it was strange that this didn't really feel strange. I had just hiked through some hail, hitchiked in a packed car, had a hilarious cultural exchange, caught a bus, and found a ticket home at half the price--and it just felt pretty normal. This strangeness soon faded as the lit up sign on the front of my bus, reading "LIMA" in big block letters, reminded me that Lima is a GIGANTIC city. The bus station I left in Lima was pretty close to my house, but now that I was taking an independent bus I had no idea where it would stop! After asking three of the bus employees and getting three different answers I gathered that I was going to stop near the center of Lima, not a great neighborhood to be arriving in at 4am, and not close to my house. I guess first before a fall comes pride haha. Another lesson learned.
(Before we left, the check-in girl left her baby sister next to me to "guard" the clipboard, eat her pudding cup, and watch the horror movie they were playing. Priceless!)
I got off the bus in a dirt lot behind some buildings at 4:15am, I couldn't see any street signs or any familiar buildings lit up in the skyline. Not my ideal situation. I could either take one of the cabs waiting for bus passengers or walk the street to a better area. I estimated that with the huge tourist flag I was carrying(my backpacking bag) that walking the street was the lesser of the two options. I asked one of the bus employees to help me out, he pointed to one of the drivers with a quick gesture that didn't make me confident he had put much attention into his selection. I eyed the driver and did my best to assess him. I feel like I've developed a decent judge of character, but I wasn't overly confident given what I've heard about taxis in Lima. Everything went fine, he dropped me off in front of my door. I climbed the stairs as fast as my weary and aching legs could carry me, showered for the first time in four days, and climbed into bed. It was now 5am. Aside from the few hours I was able to sleep on the bus, I had been awake and on my guard since 6am the day before. I relaxed, happy, exhausted, home with Daloma at last :)
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