Breaking news: a llama is not always a llama.
Our fantastic guide this morning, Carolina, explained there were originally two wild species of camelid in South America (ie part of the camel family): guanacos, larger animals that live from sea level up to c3500m, and vicuñas, more fragile and with really soft fur, that live at altitudes higher than that.
There’d been people on this area for 12,500 years, but 3,500 years ago the indigenous people bred llamas from guanacos to be pack animals, and alpacas from vicuñas for their fur (because they live at such high altitude vicuñas have proportionately enormous hearts, and they have heart attacks if they’re scared, ie if you try to shear them). Llamas and alpacas are only domesticated - they aren’t found in the wild. So most of the animals we’ve seen so far have not in fact been llamas…
But the arrival of the llama changed this part of the world forever: it created the Andean civilisation, because for the first time people could travel in llama caravans right from the south of Colombia to the bottom of Argentina. (San Pedro, where we are, was an important re-fuelling stop as it’s an oasis in the desert.) For this reason, once a year farmers give thanks to their llamas in a ceremony, covering them with incense, and attaching brightly coloured pom-poms to their heads.
(You can also get interbreeding between wild and domesticated camelids but I got confused there…)
We learned this on the drive to our morning’s excursion: a hike through the Puritama Reserve, owned and managed by this hotel chain. After a bit of a scramble down through scrubby rock, we ended up in an incredibly beautiful red-cliffed canyon entirely floored with giant pampas grass, growing alongside a river that you could hear but not see. (Incidentally pampas grass arrived with the Spanish in the 16th century - it was looking very at home.) Massive blue dragonflies danced in clouds; the sun glinted off the feathery pampas fronds waving way above our heads; there was barely a cloud in the sky, and no other people around - it was wonderful.
And extra-special for me: this canyon had been part of the old llama caravan route. Carolina showed us a cave in the rocks where two mummies had been found and still lay (with only 15% humidity, everything is preserved). We went inside low rock walls built as overnight shelters, with stone rings for their fires; and she even found bits of pottery - one piece from 200AD, another c4000 years old - you could tell because the core wasn’t properly fired - they hadn’t learned good techniques yet. I held a piece of pottery that was 4000 years old! You don’t get to experience that every day.
But at the end of the walk was the main prize for the day: a series of 8 rock pools going down the mountain, fed by water heated by the nearby volcano.
As the hotel managed the nature reserve they had exclusive access to the top pool, where the water first surfaced above ground. It was incredibly beautiful: a rough circle of slightly blue, crystal clear water, at around 35 degrees, with a gravelly bottom, encircled by shading pampas grass. Completely heavenly.
They’d built a little concrete jetty to access this pool, reached by a red wooden walkway. More of these walkways led you to the other pools - I followed them down, and you could see the water cascading down in little waterfalls from one pool to the other - some larger, or shallower, or with a waterfall you could go beneath. It was so beautiful it was almost impossible to imagine it was natural - but there was a 300 year old mud brick house right there, used by locals when they’d come up for a bit of hot spring R&R. (Maybe the llama caravans did too.)
We floated in the warm water, slightly soft from all the volcanic minerals - Carolina told us we would all feel “recharged” as a result. And (despite a short term panic when we couldn’t find Jemima’s sunglasses or Kevin’s watch), we did.
On our drive home, Carolina asked Jemima if she’d like to hear a legend from the local area. She pointed out one of the many volcanoes in the area, and said once upon a time, he was the king of the volcanoes. He had a beautiful daughter volcano - the only female one (I can’t remember her name sadly). She and Licancabur, the volcano sacred to the people from San Pedro where we were (the classically triangular one that dominates every view), fell in love.
But the king didn’t want her to marry Licancabur, so he organised a contest between the volcanoes to find her husband. Licancabur had a twin who also loved her, and they fought long and hard, until Licancabur managed to knock off his head. (The volcano next to Licancabur is weirdly flat-topped, and there is a rock in Bolivia, which borders very near here, which is known as the twin’s head.)
The king was so angry at this that, rather than allow her to marry Licancabur, he exiled his daughter - she now sits far away from the other volcanoes, on her own. But once a year, on the morning of the winter solstice - which is celebrated locally by people climbing the volcanoes to make offerings - the shadow of Licancabur falls over her, so they can be together for that day.
Each half day here is about a day of normal life, so I’m going to pause here! (I also have to get ready for our next excursion!) Our afternoon adventures will follow next…
Dawn from our room:
Heading into the canyon:
Finding out about llama caravans:
The holes in the rocks where the Incan mummies still are:
Inside a llama caravan shelter:
4000 year old pot!:
Carolina with more bits of pot on the stone shelf:
Heading down to the pampas grass-lined river:
Hot springs!:
Beautiful water:
300 year old cottage:
Our pool and decking area from a distance (you can just see Jemima’s white cap through the pampas):
Exploring the other pools:
Final view of our pool with the walkway and mountain behind:
Very interesting and descriptive. I’d love to know how you are coping with the altitude and to see some more photos. It sounds quite extreme.
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