One’s destination is never a place: Lake Churup

I woke up early one morning not really knowing what I would be doing that day. I had two options: Lake Wilcacocha was an easy hike that I could do alone, and Lake Churup was more strenuous and slightly dangerous and would need to find people to go with. Both trailheads could be reached via ´´combi,´´ the small town public transportation method of packing 15 people into a minivan. At seven in the morning I went to the corner where I had been told the combis gathered. I saw vans, but all the drivers were sleeping, and there were no gringos - and no local passengers for that matter. I flagged down a taxi driver and asked him how to get to Lake Wilcacocha and he said combis left from a corner three blocks away. I walked there, and since there were still no gringos, I decided to go to Lake Wilcacocha, only to have the drivers there tell me that I needed a different corner, about a 15 minute walk away, to get there. I started walking, and by lucky coincidence saw a group of Israelies that had been on the hike to Laguna 69 two days earlier. I shouted across the street ´´Where are you going?´´ They responded ´´Lake Churup!´´ So I joined their group for the day.

The hike to Churup was very strenuous. Steep portions of the trail were covered in loose rocks that slipped out from under your feet during the descent, and some places were so steep that there were cables attached to the rocks to aid the ascent. By the time I got back to the hostal at 5 that afternoon, I was barely able to haul my tired body up the steps to my room, where I managed to stay awake only until 7:30.