Upon my arrival, I was overwhelmed with the sense of cold damp seeping into my bones and into the entire city and countryside. It seemed to be raining all the time, and when it wasn't raining the skies were heavy with clouds. As a consequence of all the rain, everywhere I looked there were plants sprouting and flowering, green-carpeted hills, and a sense of hope that infused discussions of the upcoming harvest. We drove over roads washed out by impromptu streams and by sudden waterfalls cascading down the face of the andes and swollen rivers that rushed with turbulent waters.
The Mantaro River in February and today
I could not have understood at that point just how precious that rain was. Now, however, I am seeing all too clearly just how dependant we all are on this short, wet, season. When we drive out to the country, or I walk along the streets of Huancayo, clouds of dust - not rain - are stirred up, settling on everything and leaving my eyes red and sore. The mighty Mantaro river has become a few streams that part and come together at various points over their stony floor and banks - which can now be seen clearly because the water is so low. The impromptu streams have become forgotten garbage pits, strewn with diapers, cans, and plastic bags.
On our visits with communities participating in the project we see clearly what are contacts are telling us repeatedly - there is not enough water. Stunted, drying corn stalks stand defiantly with a few shriveled cobs as their farmers wait in vain for a few more days of rain - which will not come. Golden stalks of rye and wheat wave in the wind, but with few seeds and much shorter than was expected. For people who rely on these crops to feed their families and bring in the household income there is not much they can do beside give their wilted crops to the livestock. In many areas irrigation is not a viable option, as most above ground water is rain fed, and digging wells or paying to access municipal water canals is beyond their financial possibilities.
Rain- and irrigation-watered corn
The rains ended early this year, but at least they came, and watered the potatoes that are the main food source for all Huancainos. What is most worrisome is that scientists predict the trend of shorter and shorter rainy seasons to persists as the climate continues on its course of chaotic change. I don't know what the recourse will be for large populations here who rely on their own production to make a living and to live.
We decided to go the very touristy route and take the 4-day Inca Trail hike from Ollantaytambo (outside of Cusco) to Machu Picchu. 500 people (200 tourists and 300 porters and guides) a day start off on the 43-km hike and although at times it feels like you're in the middle of a log-jam, for the most part the trail is scenic and peaceful and a offers a wonderful possibility to view - and meander through - andean scenery.
If you look closely, you'll see a little line of people trekking along the bottom
Machu Picchu itself is definitely over-touristed (apparently 1,500 people go a day, although UNESCO has declared 500 to be the maximum sustainable number), but it's easy to see why it is such a sought-after site. It is strikingly beautiful, and quite big, and surrounded on all sides by imposing green mountains. It was more than amazing to arrive there after four days of hiking through the andes, and so inspiring to have a place be so much more than I had imagined.
