Peru
Time travel back to March 12, 2020: Karen and I were scheduled to get on a plane to Chile to see Charlotte in Santiago and travel on to Chilloe for a brief vacation. The Covid-19 pandemic got in the way, and we cancelled. For some reason, a faint hope emerged about traveling to Machu Picchu and Easter Island in December 2020.
Nope, not a hope, not that year.
December 2021? Peru was still shut down, as was Easter Island, BUT Argentina was opening up, so we spent time there.
April 2022 rolled around. Harvard had gone to a 'masks not necessary' policy, and was rolling back Covid testing. It seemed like there was some normalcy on the horizon with Covid, so Karen commenced to schedule a long anticipated trifecta of Machu Picchu+the Atacama Desert+Easter Island.
This was not trivial with a rotating cast of characters and plane flights. At any one moment, there were eight people in our entourage. Myself, I counted ten airplane flights, including connections. Do connections count? YES. They can be missed, or the airlines can change flights and screw up connections.
The trip was scheduled over the winter 2022-2023 holiday period. As the appointed lift-off hour approached, a major challenge arose. Our first stop was in Peru. The President was arrested under corruption charges, and protests erupted all over - particularly in the southern provinces where Machu Picchu was located.
A video showed the Cusco airport, gateway to Machu Picchu, with smoke billowing out and police dept. motocycles racing to the scene. Six people were killed in clashes with the military. Six airports in southern Peru were closed, including Cusco. Roads were blocked. The train route to Machu Picchu was blocked by protesters. This was by December 12th and we were scheduled to leave December 19th.
Video of Cusco Airport approximately Dec. 12.
I tried to get various reads on the situation in Peru. Most of the people who were either living in Peru, or had lived in Peru were of the opinion: "Stay Away!!". Our travel agent was a bit more sanguine. She said that the people she organize with had seen this before and it will likely blow over. My daughter who had seen unrest in Chile thought that it would likewise blow over. We did a sampling/polling of people scheduled to go on WhatsApp, and I was the only one who didn't want to go. I was out-voted. Given that the plans were fairly complicated, intertwined and such, my only thought was that the Xmas holiday might cause people to quiet down and spend time with their families. This was my hope. It turned out to be more or less correct. Now, as of this writing on January 19th, a month later, unrest has returned and the Cusco airport is again closed.
We flew to Lima on the 19th, getting in late in the day. My daughter Charlotte was already at the airport and waited for us. Lima is a city of approximately 11 million and is divided into some 40-odd districts, each with its own mayor. After a drive to the airport, we went out to dinner at a restaurant with 'typical' Peruvian fare. I use quote because we must have eaten ceviche' nearly every day of our trip, and I've added this to my 'must cook' items.
There was a day trip in Lima, where we saw a memorial to over 500 healthcare workers who perished in Covid-19. The time we had held out small hope for a trip to Machu Picchu in December 2020 was a nightmare for many localities - no real hope on the immediate horizon for a vaccine and the daily challenge of dealing with illness and death in the hospitals.
Memorial to healthcare workers who died from Covid in Lima
We visited the house of the artist Victor Delfin, who is fairly famous. He got his start in NYC but is resident in Lima. He's still alive and Karen purchased some items from him.
Painting from house of Victor Delfin
From the vantage point of high up in the hotel, we could see a train of waves far out into the Pacific of all nearly the same wavelength - presumably kicked up by a distant storm.
The next day we flew to the Cusco airport. On account of the unrest, a normally jammed plane was maybe 1/3 full.
We were fortunate that there was a lull in the unrest in Cusco. In fact, we heard of a 'truce'. My major hope of the Xmas holidays being a period of calm was realized. After landing, we had a day of acclimatization, and mostly toured around a region called the Sacred Valley, which is the river valley that leads to Machu Picchu. We toured some Inca remains, including a working salt distillery - where salty water from an underground stream was channeled into pans that were naturally evaporated.
"Super hikers" as we became known for taking the three day hike that included camping.
We stayed one night in the Sol y Luna resort/hotel complex. There were 43 units at the hotel, and only five were occupied. We were four out of the five. Normally, they'd be full at that time of the year. There were a ton of cancellations, clearly.
The next day, we embarked on a three day hike. We had originally planned to hike the Inca Trail, which is the trail leading directly to Machu Picchu, but there was a problem with the porter union and the government. The porters schlepped people's gear along, and the tourists got to just carry day packs. There was the start back of some Inca trail hiking, but given the unrest. We did have the chance to do a one day hike of the "Inca Express," which hooked up with the last bit of the Inca trail.
As an approximation to the Inca Trail, we had another hike lined up with three days and two nights of hiking. This was the Ancascohca Trek, which started out in a relatively dry area, crossed over a number of passes, including one at 15,000 feet, and then descended through a cloud forest into the Sacred Valley.
We had a guide, Wilfredo, who was a talkative chap and very enamored by the fitting stones carved by the Incas. The hike was augmented by a horse train to carry most of the gear, and we just had day packs. This is more or less called "glamping" - or glamorous camping.
We hiked to a pass at 15,000 feet called Chi Chusqasa. Now, that's pretty darn high. Hiking uphill at that altitude caused a lot of huffing and puffing, but take it slow. There was something remarkable about the hike up to the top, however. There were potato fields way up there, perhaps 14,000 feet. Our guide remarked that the farmers kept planting potatoes higher and higher, presumably in response to climate change. From the pass at 15,000 feet, in the distance I could see the outline of sheep and shepherds on a ridge that I was guessing was maybe 16,000 feet.
We dropped down a river valley called the Silque and camped at a place called Ancascocha at about 13,000 feet. It was Christmas eve and our guide Wilfredo broke out some champagne. Dinner was inside an abandoned school-house, which still had books on the shelf.
The next day, Christmas Day, we continued down the Silque River. As we departed camp, we ran into an older lady who lived in a nearby stone house. Wilfredo spoke back and forth with her in Quechua, which is the major language in those parts. As we went down the Silque, we were entering a cloud forest. We passed one guy on his way up the hill carrying a fairly hefty load and he was practically running. I was amazed what kind of conditioning he must have had. We were maybe at 12,000 feet at the time.
It rained for most of the downhill hike, but we were treated to the sight of amazing orchids. Another aspect about the Silque River valley was that the sides were very steep. I'd gaze ahead and couldn't imagine how there was a trail that actually made it through. "No way there's a trail that goes through there." But, go through it did, and there were no real scary sections - e.g. some very steep scree or something like that.
When we got to our last camp outside of a town called Camicancha at 9000 feet, most of the clothes I had on were utterly soaked. That's the problem with rain gear - you might be covered up, but you can sweat a lot underneath them. Anyway, I noticed that there were some guy-ropes for tying down the tents there were unused and read in my tent, listening to the rain on the top, reading, and having my clothes dry out on the ropes I appropriated from outside.
That was the end of the super-hiker saga. We piled into a van which took us to the town of Ollantaytambo and met back up with Karen, Marion, and Renee. There, we waited on the train that goes all the way to Aqua Calientes, the town a the base of the mountain that Machu Picchu reside.
One train came by in the other direction and some of the Inca Trail porters came off with huge loads on their back. A small band played at the train station. All-in-all, it was a pleasant wait. Our train arrived, and we got off at km 104, which is the start of the so-called Inca Express Trail. It's a one-day hike up to Inti Punku, the Gate of the Sun, and then a drop down into Machu Picchu itself. It does pick up to the actual Inca Trail at one point and follow it. Amazingly, the Trail itself is paved. Remarkable.
When we got to the top of Machu Picchu proper, it was deserted. This was a combination of effects: the tourist traffic was way down on account of the unrest, and we were there late enough in the day that anyone that was there already departed, so we got a nice view of Machu Picchu deserted.
We stayed at the Belmond Lodge, which is right next to Machu Picchu. While some group of the super hikers decided to hike the very very steep mountain of Machu Picchu, I decided to have as much of a full day looking around the deserted city. It was super impressive.
What was Machu Picchu? That was the question that I had on my mind, and yet, no one has a satisfactory explanation. One aspect of Inca culture was a worship of the sun. That we know. So, there is some thought that this was a refuge or second home for the Inca - the person at the top of the power pyramid. Although Machu Picchu is actually lower than Cusco, the 'center' or 'capital' of the Inca Empire, it was on high ground compared to its surroundings, with the Urubamba River winding a large loop around the base. So, perhaps the height of Machu Picchu put it close to the sun.
Another interesting tidbit is that Machu Picchu was 'discovered' by the American explorer Hiram Bingham. The story that's often told is that he was searching for a fabled lost city and eventually got to the base of Machu Picchu in 1911, where local farmers said that there was a city up on the hilltop. He found someone to guide him there. And...There it was. With funds from the National Geographic and elsewhere, he returned the following year and went on a bit campaign to pull out all the trees and vegetation that had grown over it.
Now, the construction of the buildings is fascinating, as the guide pointed out. The bases are in an Inca-classic tight fitting stone formation, but the tops are much more of a stone-and-mortar construction. There were some impressive water-diversion moats and tunnels to drain the complex.
Our guide pointed out the sun temple, where one window pointed at the Sun Gate - supposedly the southernmost point the sun reached in the austral summer, and the other window pointed as a gap in the mountains where the run rose in the austral winter. To my eyes, the two windows were spaced too far apart, but I couldn't get into the sun temple proper to take any bearings. Yes, I did have my compass with me.
So, that was Peru. We flew directly from Cusco to Santiago Chile the next day. The airport in Cusco had a regiment of soldiers walking around with automatic weapons, some kind of grenades, body armor, you name it. As we taxied on the runway, you could see them in a formation with even snare drums, in front of their commander. This was a reminder of the threat of unrest that later descended on the city again. It seems we hit the sweet spot over the holidays.
Atacama
From Santiago, we flew to Calama (Chile). There's a regular flight there, not only for tourists, but also for miners who go there. The major claims to fame for the Atacama desert is mining and astronomy (data mining, I guess). There's copper and lithium in the desert.
For my admittedly subjective experience, Atacama was less interesting as a destination than the area around Cusco. Some highlights were the brilliant sunsets, an impressive geyser field, the tall volcanoes on the border with Peru and Bolivia.
One amusing trip was a bike ride to a very briny pond. It has ten times the salt content of sea water, and the buoyancy is impressive. I recall that you don't have to tread water at all, and you would have to fight to stay vertical, and then let go and feel your body rotate naturally into either a prone or supine position, depending on some purely random factors.
Easter Island
The flight to Easter Island is 5 hours from Santiago. Easter Island, or Rapa Nui, is a long way from anywhere. Its isolation made it one of the first islands to lose contact with the rest of the Polynesian culture as long distance voyaging began to contract around 1350 or so.
When Westerners first made contact with Rapa Nui, they found most of the famous stone heads turned over - face down, in effect. There is much speculation about what caused the transition from the stone-head culture to something different, but some of it centers around climate change.
The start of long distance Polynesian voyaging and end of it corresponds roughly to the Medieval Climate Anomaly, when temperatures globally changed, along with rainfall patterns. This period was roughly 900 to 1350 AD. Around 1350, Europe encountered the Little Ice Age.
The speculation was that the stone heads were a kind of talisman of elders that stood watch over villages along the coast of Easter Island. When the 'magic' of the elders seemed to disappear, the stone heads were toppled.
The quarry for the stone heads is a favorite destination on the island, and there are instances of stone heads in various states of construction. Elsewhere on the island, there are locales where the stone heads have been resurrected into a vertical position. There's been much debate about how they were moved from the quarry to their final position, and I won't go into the minute details of this.
The Norwegian Thor Heyerdahl got deep into the action of Easter Island. He advocated an 'accidental drift' theory of the populating of the Polynesian islands. In this version, South American peoples, just drifted in the trade winds and west-bound currents. Some supporting evidence includes the adoption of sweet potatoes from South America by Polynesian peoples, and some DNA evidence.
One of our guides in Peru went so far as to suggest that the stone heads on Easter Island were transported by the Incas on rafts. For me, this strained credibility, given that there was an obvious quarry on the island, and just getting the stone heads from the quarry to a site on the coast would have been a huge chore.
Heyerdahl did a lot of amateur archeological work on Easter Island in the 1950's and seemed to have driven by confirmation bias to find what he wanted to that supported the accidental drift hypothesis.
One of my 'stay away' correspondents on the question of traveling to Peru has a son who lives on Easter Island, Felipe Custer. Somewhat out of the blue, Felipe e-mailed me and invited us to an informal cocktail party. Now, Easter Island had been shut down for most of the covid pandemic. I can't even imagine being confined to the relatively small island for two years and change. But, in some ways, the isolation is truly a thing for the island.
In my understanding, there were tons of tourists visiting, but the tourist visits are only now slowly rebounding.
I can imagine that folks would crave contact with outsiders. Filipe did not explicitly say this, but most of us were having a bit of cabin-fever with each other. We'd been in contact for a couple of weeks with each other, and having a break with others came as a welcome relief.
While Thor Heyerdahl was a bit of an amateur, there was a more serious archaeologist, Edmundo Edwards who came to Easter Island in the late 1950's. He was much more meticulous and was appropriately skeptical of jumping to conclusions. I knew of Edmundo from contacts in the Harvard alumni circles. He offered to give me a cooks tour of lesser known spots on the island, and I took him up on the offer.
Edmundo showed me some lesser-known petroglyphs. One was a fish - likely a tuna next to a shark. Another was an octopus.
In return for the 'insider' scoop from Edmundo, I gave a talk for some local people about my investigations into wave piloting in the Marshall Islands. Edmundo gave me an autographed copy of his book, When the Universe Was an Island, about his investigations.
What happened after the statues were toppled and the mojo of the stone heads didn't seem to work? There was the emergence of the culture of the birdman. In this culture, there was a yearly competition for able-bodied youths to secure the first hatched egg from migratory birds on a nearby pair of rocks. The jumping off point was a large inactive crater filled with water.
Some of us hiked up to the crater and got a good look at the rocky islets as part of the birdman culture. Whoever first brought back an intact egg became the chief of the island for a year.
Me, getting tired of group poses, I decided to take center stage. Birdlike.
After Easter Island, it was back to Santiago. As part of my contacts with Harvard alumni, I agreed to give a talk to a general audience that was centered around my latest book on the connections between spatial and social cognition. It was 'in conversation' with the astronomer Cesar Fuentes, who is a Harvard alum.
Cesar Fuentes, Ellen Guidera, and me in Santiago
That's more or less a wrap, if you've gotten this far. What I'm left with are some great memories, and also a few culinary challenges. I really really really need to experiment with ceviche. Beyond that there is a dish with razor clams that was vaguely reminiscent of Coquilles St. Jaques, where the clams are served on the half-shell with cheese melted over. So....something to look forward to.
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