We woke up, hoping that the 5:30am breakfast buffet would be great, and it was just ok. Tomorrow we'll go for the eggs, because the pastries were hard and the granola for the yogurt was like puffed rice.
Regardless, we were sated and ready for our tour along the canyon - specifically to Cruz de Condors - at 6am when our taxi wasn't supposed to call down to the front desk and meet us. No call, so we headed up to the pickup area to be there as soon as he got there.
The driver who we had been assured was "never late" was 17 minutes late. Not a relaxing start to the morning. It was only a 13-minute trip to Yanque though, so we definitely hadn't missed our bus.
The square of the sleepy town was the liveliest it would be all day - a dozen children in traditional wear danced in circles around the fountain in the middle, stands had their wares out, and a row of women had llamas or eagles to take pictures with. I loved the old church, with wooden scaffolding propping it up, on one side of the square, and a smoking volcano in the background.
At about 7, a woman holding a piece of paper printed with our names came to the bench we were hanging out by. Rosa was going to be our tour guide for the rest of the day, and she told us that the two seats on the back of the bus were ours.
We climbed in after the ten minutes was up, and the tour group (which had been up at Arequipa at 2am to make this tour) continued on. Rosa talked about the terraced structures along the canyon, dating from the 10th century, and the crops of potatoes (2,400 varieties), quinoa, and corn (with its many colors). She talked about how Colca Canyon is twice as large as the Grand Canyon, but still 1000 meters shallower than one in China. She pointed out the source of the Amazon River at Mismi, a snow-capped peak that we stopped to take pictures of. Oma found a trio of llama, alpaca, and vicuña finger puppets at that stop - her first purchase of the trip.
Rosa told us about a couple take went hiking and only the woman was found - a potential murder mystery. Everything she talked about was in both Spanish and English, and she switched between them so fast that it was fun trying to keep up (or fun to stare at the gorgeous canyon on our side of the van and the staggering dropoff and just let her words wash over you).
Rosa took a group on a small hike to Condor's Crossing, but we stayed on the bus and got straight to the parking lot. Two viewpoints, one higher, one lower, were at the end of two long paths. We started toward the higher one, thinking downhill would be a nice break between.
Getting up there, about a hundred other tourists were along the walls and sitting on the rocks as well. We sat down on a wall and peered at where binoculars and cameras were pointing with no luck.
And, you guessed it, Oma saw the first condor before I did! A juvenile (without the white scarf) was soaring underneath us, then out into the canyon a bit. A second joined after a minute, and we spent five minutes watching them between the cliffs they would disappear under.
After a lapse, we decided to go to the second viewpoint, since it seemed that the giant creatures were getting closer to that one. We approached, found wall space, and again saw nothing for the first few minutes. I was glad we hadn't gone on that hike if those two juvenile condors were the only ones we'd see.
Then, coasting along was one, then two adults with their white neck pieces. Their wingspan is nearly ten feet, but even they are dwarfed by the canyon. Just as we were needing to leave to get the bus back, three more joined in, and we saw up to five condors over the edge of the cliffs.
While walking back, we paused to both catch our breath (altitude, man) and see the condors when they sailed above the viewpoints. Sadly, right at 9 when we head to get back to the bus was the best viewing, with the birds coming right over the viewpoints (that we were no longer at), but we were happy to see the wild creatures at all. (Though Oma commented later that she didn't realize that we were just watching vultures - yup, condors are graceful, but they are just hunting for carrion.)
Back on the bus, Rosa told us about a sour fruit that looked like a kiwi and a "Colca sour" that was made with it. Oma loved both - tangy is her thing, and at that stop I saw llamas spitting and guinea pigs being farmed. Oma can't get over the fact that they eat our pets. I'm still looking for the chance to try them.
Our next stop was hot springs... and ziplining. I had read about a company that was past Chivay that did ziplining, but when we stopped at the hot springs nearly within view of our hotel, I got worried. Sure there was ziplining here, but was it safe?
Oma was more concerned about the hike to the top of the hill where the zipline started. We had to wait while until the employees showed up to open their shop, and once I saw the state of the equipment (and the back-up carabeener), I decided it couldn't be too bad.
Rosa was back from dropping off the hot springs soakers, and she helped translate - no, you don't have to stop yourself. No, you can't get stuck. Yes, we do have to climb this hill, but we'll do it together!
Rosa was a life-saver. She didn't let Oma cop out, and we took it very slow going up the hill, stopping on rocks whenever necessary and getting lots of water. The view from the top was great, but now that the climbing was over, the reality of swinging over a canyon set in. Brakes? Getting stuck? What's he saying in Spanish?
First an employee went down, then I was next. It was awesome - you could feel the coolness of the water even from that height over it, and it sparkled from the sun. The employee had a stopping guard that he used with a rope, so all we had to do was hang on.
I videoed Oma, who, with one little scream and one hand off the rope, soared over the river. She was unhooked and had the biggest grin.
Once more across the canyon, then a final line back to the stall where Rosa met us with my backpack and camera. She was so impressed.
With us being so close to our hotel, we didn't want to get on the bus and wait another 30 minutes, then go back to Chivay to catch a taxi. Rosa pulled out another miracle and got a taxi driver that was waiting for a family at the springs to take us the ten minutes up the gravel road to our hotel. Thank God for Rosa.
We were back at the hotel, a bit windblown, and it wasn't even noon yet. What a great morning. We decided to check out the barbecue happening by the hot springs, then cross over to check out the alpaca ranch.
No one was at the bar and grill at the hot springs, so, hungry and thirsty, we continued on to the exhibits across the bridge. My throat got more and more tickly, so I left Oma to get some water from the bar (which thankfully had a staff person this time).
We learned about the giant hummingbirds (literally called giant hummingbirds, the biggest hummingbird) we'd see hanging around the flowering bushes - called cantuta, the national flower. More about condors was in there, that mostly matched with what Rosa had told us. Not eating for up to six weeks, monogamous, and only maturing at age seven all correlated. However, she had said a lifespan of thirty years and the exhibit said 70-100! A bit of a difference there.
The second exhibit was on alpacas. What I found most interesting was that they could interbreed with llamas, but it decreased the quality of their wool, so a center on genetics has been set up to keep the bloodline good and bring back the highest quality of alpaca wool. Oh, and I found it interesting that there are two names for the curly and straight haired alpacas.
We were starving at this point - breakfast at 5:30 shouldn't need to last until 2 - and headed back to the main lodge and the restaurants there. I had trout tartare (with avocados) and Oma had a good looking salad.
Post-lunch, it was nap and chill time. We were waiting for the hot springs to go into the shade, because it was a little hot (and exposed for my poor, sunburning skin) to hang out in them in directly sunlight. At about 4, I decided we had waited enough and we got our swimsuits and robes on and headed down.
The demographics were much different than yesterday - a family or two of Peruvians, then some older Spanish-speaking couples. No British people to compare Peru notes with. Oma was in the process of losing her voice from the coughing fits she was getting with her cold, so I was hoping that the stream and hot would help. Less coughing, but also less energy to stay long and a smart warning to make sure she wasn't getting light-headed. We sat in then out of the first pool, then she headed back to the room, slowly, up the hill.
I hopped into the next pool over, which was a similar temperature to the first, and sat and thought for a bit before realizing the key to the room was in my pocket. I hopped out, grabbed my robe, and met Oma about halfway up the hill on a bench. She had realized it too, so was being extra slow.
With that kerfuddle avoided, I went to the last big pool. Turns out, it was the coolest of all of them at just 36-38 degrees C, abs I stayed there through sunset.
At 6:30, rinsed and changed, we headed back to the lodge. I had unpacked my backpack and didn't find Oma's black trench coat that she had brought with her to the canyon. We probably left it on the bus before ziplining, thinking we'd be back on, so we had the front desk try to reach the tour company. It was late, their cellphone was off and their landline was disconnected. The front desk took down our details and said they'd check again in the morning. It's nothing but service at this hotel! (We are also headed back to Arequipa in the morning, so will check with the information guy at the desk. Our hotel is sort of near their main office, so we'll walk and ask there too.)
Dinner was soup, and then dessert for me, since my soup wasn't as substantial as Oma's with its entire slab of trout. The corn soup was good, but not as thick and hearty as I wanted.
It was another early night - Oma is trying hard to fight off this cold, and I'm happy with keeping myself hydrated and rested to kick the end of my slightly itchy throat.
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