I was startled awake at 3 am by a battery of fireworks behind my hostel in Cusco, Peru. The locals are gearing up for the Festival of San Blas, but it’s more than a week away. Mind foggy, I roll over and try to get a few more hours of sleep, but it’s pointless. The startle was too strong, and the blasts continued every 20 minutes or so. Oh well, time to set my goals for the day. Jason and I are taking a road trip to Rainbow Mountain today and I’m thrilled to go on this adventure. The plan is to hike to 16000 plus feet which is a new record for the both of us. This will be a great day to test the high alpine clothing system we have cobbled together, and I would love to get some great photos of Rainbow Mountain. 

After coffee and cactus fruits, we pile in the van for a three hour drive. We wind through the countryside, noticing the mountains, the terraces and the small towns. Every town has a specialty: roasted pork skins, huge round loaves of bread, corn on the cob, and cuy. It’s pretty bright outside, so I put on my sunglasses and think about the great lighting for the mountain photos. John, our Quechua tour guide, lets us know we are about an hour away now as we turn off the pavement to a graded dirt road. We start winding and ascending through the mountains, the trees are lush and green, the terraces above are full of corn, and we can see llamas and alpacas grazing at the roadside. Soon the road gets steeper and more rugged, it’s now cloudy, and a light mist is coming down. The trees stopped around 12,000 feet and the landscape changed to tundra, farm  terraces, and verdant grazing areas interspersed with stone homes. The mist turns to steady rain as we ascend, our guide reassures us that the rains usually clear after an hour or so, but to prepare ourselves now with our rain gear, hats and gloves. We are given a briefing on altitude sickness and given instruction on rest breaks. John passes a bottled elixir of Andean herbs to help with altitude. We rub our hands with the elixir and deeply inhale the strong, sweet mint aroma. The air smells fresh and my nasal passages open up with the indigenous medicine. 

John briefs the group about the trail, how long, how much elevation change, and that horses are available for those who can’t tolerate the altitude. We stand to the side and make the request. Can we go ahead of the group? We are training and want to push our limits. He chuckled and said go ahead, I will catch you on the climb. We start the ascent at 15,353 ft. The trail is a nice traverse for 2 miles or so and then two steep climbs to the summit. We can see figures on the ridge in the distance, no problem. The rain is steady and cold. The trail turns to sticky mud, my breathing gets faster. I assess my current output and energy level. I recall just 4 days ago how difficult it was to climb a punchy hill at 12,000 feet. I stop for a few deep inhalations and push on to the summit. The summit is slippery and wet with frozen rain hitting my cheeks. I turn around with the camera ready, full of anticipation. The mountain is cloaked in a dense fog. The sting of disappointment is brief but present. No pretty photos of Rainbow Mountain today. I snap a shot of fog and snow flurries to remind myself of the day. 

We look at our watches 16,540 ft, a new record for the both of us. We smile at the accomplishment and head down to the base to wait on John and the group. He arrives a few minutes later and we recognize his disadvantage, that his backpack holds heavy rescue gear and an oxygen tank. We wait on the rest of the group, shivering and chatting. John leans conspiratorially over and says we have time to hike the Red Valley as well. It’s not part of the tour, but he knows we can complete the additional hike in time to meet the van at the checkpoint.

We take advantage of the vote of confidence and traverse another mile or so to Red Valley. The sky starts to clear and we begin to see fans of iron and copper in the soil and the shapes of mountains in the distance. The anticipation builds quickly, this view is going to be something special.
Rounding the mountain traverse,  Red Valley opens up, beautiful, fertile and inspirational. The locals point towards the viewpoint and I get the dramatic landscape photos I was hoping for. I see multiple trails heading from the viewpoint and switchbacks snaking across the valley. My mind immediately starts planning another trip. We could arrange a homestay or two, walk the ridge and get deep into the backcountry…

 Alas, I realize right now is the one and only time I will experience this valley. There is just too much world to see. I bring my mind back to the present and focus. I feel the stinging breeze on my face, look out at the burnt umber soil fanning down the mountains, contrasting with the emerald green grass of the terraces. I see the llamas and alpacas grazing below me. I remove my gloves to inhale the lingering scent of Andean herbs on my hands. This was a perfect day, no matter the weather, no matter the view or lack of. I remind myself why I trek to remote places with no guarantee of success. I’m grateful to be present on this land. I’m grateful that my untested gear kept me warm and dry. I’m grateful that my husband was with me and that we are healthy enough to continue chasing our dreams. 
 
This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any product or service you purchase using the links in the articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price as they would otherwise, and your purchase helps to support The Trek’s ongoing goal to serve you quality backpacking advice and information. Thanks for your support!
To learn more, please visit the About This Site page.
Hi there, I'm Jen "Sidewinder" Mathis. I have thru hiked the CT, the Walker's Haute Route, section hiked the CDT, the PCT, the AT, and the AZT. I've spent more than 150 nights below the rim of the Grand Canyon, and explored the Four Corners area. Prior to my long distance hiking addiction, I bicycle toured in Sicily, Ecuador and Quebec, and spent 80 plus days canoe touring in Minnesota and Ontario. I love exploring the American West, Canada, and Mexico in my truck camper. I currently live in Arkansas, when not traveling. I'm hiking the CDT in 2026 with my husband, Jason "Weasel Teeth" and can't wait to share the adventure with you.
Name *
Email *
Website
Notify me via e-mail if anyone answers my comment.
Comment *


Δ

source