Today I head in to the mountains to se an ancient site at Chavin approx 120km from Huaraz. To be honest I´m not fully sure what I´m actually going to see but people have said its impressive and it will be nice to go acroos the mountains. I turn up for 9am, the appointed time but end up hanging around for an hour waiting to leave. It turns out I´m the only person on board. Its a nice sunny morning as we head out of Huaraz. On the outskirts of the town we pick up a woman and her daughter. They would stay with us for the rest of the day, the lady acting as conductor later on.
We passed through acouple of small towns before getting into the high country. A couple of lads took a ride getting off along the roadside and heading towards a small cottage across a few fields. The day which had started out nice was now clouding over. We followed a valley into the high mountains. Heavy cloud was descending from the tops of the mountains as the bus slowly wound it way upwards. At 4,600m we passed through a tunnel for a short distance which brought us to the head of a neighbouring valley. As we emerged a large statue of Jeseus greeted us. Beyond the statue the valley fell away. The bus began a long descent to Chavin. THe quality of the road and the frequent switchbacks kept the speed low.
One valley led into another and once again we were perched high on a mountainside looking down into a valley bottom far below. The mountainside here consisted of soft brittle rock which was crumbling away. Rocks and boulders littered the road. Some of the boulders were large, the siz of a small car. Occasionally we encountered the remains of rockslides. One recent slide still blocked most of the road. A narrow passage had been cleared just wide enough to allow the bus to pass through. For another hour we passed down through this valley. Along the mountainside small seams of coal were visible in many places. Galleries had been cut into these seams by the roadside to extract the coal. Small caves showed where the seams had been exhausted. Others were larger their chambers disappearing into the darkness of the mountain. A few were still active Scaffolding had been erected to give access to seams high up. Wooden supprts were wedged into the clefts in the rock to prevent collapse. Black coal dust littred the slopes.
In the rain we passed some small settlements. It was very different up here. The houses were made from adobe bricks and mud plaster. Some were painted but most retained their natural colour. Ancient women in traditional dress sat outside their cottages either on small chairs or on their haunches. Small kids walked along the roadside carrying freshly cut reeds. One lad sat on top of a wall tuning in a hand held radio while nearby a man slept, hunched up hidden under a poncho and wide-brimmed hat. On the far side of the valley small fields extended high up the mountain slopes. Terracing supported the fields where the mountainside became too steep. We got to Chavin and the driver dropped me off at the archaeological complex. I had an hour and 20 mins before meeting up down in the main square.
At first glance the site didn{t appear to be much at all but following a pathway I was led around to an impressive plaza and temple complex. This temple was over 3,000 yrs old and in a country where everything is portrayed as Inca this, Inca that everything else can appear to be sooooo yesterday!! This was impressive Its age showed there was so much going on in Peru and in this valley in particular millenia before the Incas carved their empire. The most impressive part of the temple was its underground passages and corridors which riddled the interior of the temple. I stayed here for as long as possible before dashing down to the plaza to meet the bus.
Chavin is a small rural town so there was no difficulty in finding the plaza. I met the driver and he told me to hang on for another 30 mins and look around town. He was doing a nixer and acting as a collectivo for the return journey to Huaraz. He had a bus to fill to pay for all that petrol he was using climbing up and down those high mountains. I went off bought a bag of buns, a bannana and a bottle of water from and old woman at a street stall and had a look around. There was a decent crowd in town. All in for the christmas rush. One lad passed by me with a load of shopping strapped to his back walking out of town. Many young girls in traditionalt dress were in town. Their hats were immaculate. Some of the girls had clear plastic wrapped around them to protect the hat from the rain. Old ladies an old men congregated near to where the collectivos were chatting and laughing, all seemingly in good spirits given the occasion that was in it. As the collectivos filled up they left town, the conductor shouting over the crowd, hoping to get one more body into an already full minivan.
Despite all the hustle and bustle about town there was no sense of rush or impatience amongst the people. They did what they had to do in town. If they had to wait around then the did so chatting to friends and neighbours who were also waiting. It was funny though to see the contrasts that have been developing in Peruvian life. There were many in traditional dress, many in modern clothes. A couple of lads sauntered around looking like gangster rappers with baseball caps, chains and white tracsuits. One guy wore a green acrylic jumper over a shirt with flared collars and flared trousers. He looked like he d just dropped out of the sixties. People were carrying their goods on their backs, others took taxis. One old man blocked the traffic on the street out of town as he rode his donkey, loaded with groceries, up the middle of the street. It was fascinating to watch. I wondered if rural Ireland looked like this 40yrs ago. There seemed to be a different sense of time here. You could almost see it in the way people looked. It was more distant. People here didn t seem to be tied down with schedules, timetables or deadlines. There just didn{t seem to be the urgency you get in the big cities.
It began to rain again. I made my way back onto the bus. Chavin has a very pretty plaza but little else so I d seen all I wanted to. I stayed on the bus until it had filled. The driver shouted out we were leaving and as nobody else boarded we left. Out of town the driver fairly hit the accelerator and we took off up the road. Whereas the journey up to Chavin had been a jolly spin into the country. The return leg was a mad dash home. There were other buses on the road and judgin by their attitude towards our driver they weren t happy with him poaching passengers.
As the rain increased and the gloom descended we backtracked through the mountains. Four times we were stopped by traffic cops who gave the driver grief. Perhaps what the driver was doing wasn t wholly legal but each time he seemed to be able to talk his way out with merely a reprimand. By hook or by crook we got back to Huaraz by 7pm. It was dark now and the town was absolutley thronged with shoppers. It was jammed, uncomfortable to walk up the main street. Amongst the crowds a blind female busker sang into a small portable microphone. Judging by the amount of change in her box she was doing very well. The town was too busy for me. I went back to the hostel.
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