Chapter 2: The journey to Huaraz

On Tuesday morning, I had a lovely chat with Ramona and Luisa about how the work should be organised during my expected three-day absence and what to pay special attention to. I have to admit; I still had this feeling deep down that we could be threatened. It was really important to make sure the access road was kept safe and secure. Our lovely doctor suggested we use Babette and Sula for military security. From my experience, I knew that having two commanders wasn’t the best idea. So, I got Babette and made her our little ‘army’ commander. She got clear instructions for the safety of everyone in the valley. Later I made Sula Babette’s deputy. Sula promised to protect Babette and carry out all her orders. It was especially important for me that Sula subordinate herself because I knew exactly how much she would have liked to be the military leader.

At about 10 o’clock, we had set to head off to Huaraz. Our trusty Land Cruiser was fully refuelled and ready to go! We made sure we had everything we needed for the journey, including three spare canisters of diesel, several water canisters, two shovels, warm blankets and enough drinks and provisions to see us through. I had a loaded pistol hidden under my seat, just in case. I had a small pistol in a camouflaged bag on my belt, just in case. An antenna dummy is a great way to make it look like you’ve got a walkie-talkie. It was so hard to know what was going to happen on the journey. And it was winter in the Andes. Fingers crossed there wouldn’t be any heavy snowfall. The weather forecast said it was going to be milder, but you just had to expect the unexpected in the Andes.

Luisa was so thoughtful and gave us a cup of strong Coca tea for our second breakfast. It was such a kind gesture. Each of us was given a jar with crushed Coca leaves mixed with bark ash. If we felt any headaches or dizziness, we were told to keep a teaspoon of it in our mouth for a few minutes and then spit it out.

Willka was waiting in front of the Palazzo, looking ever so patient. I got her a lovely warm jacket from Ramona and some great sturdy work shoes from the construction manager, which were a bit too big, but really warm and durable. And so, we set off on the N3, via San Huano, towards Santiago de Chuco. The road was nice and dry, and we made really good progress. Willka was a little on the quiet side, hardly spoke and looked at me uncertainly from time to time. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with her. Had Olivia pushed her again to improve her scanty sexual experiences with me?

Actually, Willka was a cheerful young Indio woman. It seemed to me that she had overcome the shock of her pregnancy by the student Claudio during her days with us in the valley. She was open, often exuberant, and took exemplary care of our small children, but the upcoming days with me alone seemed to be a burden on her. I smiled at her from time to time, but a real conversation did not materialize. Even when I stopped the car at an altitude of about 3,500 meters and we looked into a wide valley framed by snow-capped peaks, I could not elicit any emotions from her. She was at this height for the first time, was able to absorb the miracle of the Andes in herself, but her gaze was anxious. Was it the unusual harshness of nature or was she afraid of me?

Our car rose and rose. From time-to-time rain clouds covered the road, but the visibility was relatively good. We passed the small town of Cabana, whose roofs glittered beautifully in the afternoon sun. The city, which is known for its well-attended and impressive Easter celebrations, is located at an altitude of over 3,200 meters, beautifully surrounded by high mountains. Even in the foothills of the mountain giants, trees grew. Parts of the slopes were used for agriculture. At this height! Unbelievable!

We wanted to take a break. We were looking for an inn, but we didn’t find one so quickly. Dozens of children surrounded our car as we parked at Placa de Armas. Willka handed out the few sweets we had with us and was finally back to her cheerful self.

A few kind adults stopped and tried to chat with me. They were the friendliest people I’d ever met in my whole life! As if by magic, a kind man handed me a beer bottle, which he had opened with his teeth. Willka was supposed to help me with the conversation, but she was having so much fun with the kids she couldn’t tear herself away.

Wonderful music sounded from a side street. And then, the sounds got louder. A lovely procession of colourfully dressed men with their instruments marched to the square. Willka was kind enough to translate for me. “Those lovely musicians are just practising for the ‘Feast of the Apostle Santiago’, which takes place here every year on 24th and 25th July.”

During these days, hundreds of visitors celebrate in honour of the Apostle of Santiago with good food, lots of music, and dancing.

A little later, we were sitting at a long table in a family’s house. We were served what the pantry gave us. The hospitality of the family was overwhelming. The family was visibly poor, but to us strangers in their house they were incredibly generous.

Later, two children sang a church song, which Willka, with her beautiful voice, and the hostess also joined in. We were not only welcome; we were with friends. We would have preferred to stay overnight, but we had to keep going. The road to the car took far too long. Everyone wanted to talk to us. No one took money from us. The hospitality of the people in this small town was simply touching.

Carefully, I pulled five hundred out of my pocket and asked Willka to donate them at the church. I could hardly use the illegally imported money. We were able to provide a little help here. The priest was standing nearby. When Willka handed him the five hundred dollars, and he fanned them out for all to see, it was quiet for a moment. Then the people cheered us, celebrated us cheerfully and sang a song about the mercy of God, as Willka translated for me. My companion finally managed to slip a hundred-dollar bill to our hostess Amancaya as well. We had seen how modestly the family lived. Her house was in need of repair and her everyday clothes were worn out. Her boundless hospitality was all the more appreciated.

With a cheerful honk and a friendly wave, we left the city behind and set off on our journey to Caraz, where we were wanted to spend the night. And the mountains just kept on getting steeper and higher! This part of the Peruvian Andes is home to some truly magnificent mountains, with many of them standing at over 6,000 metres high. The road went up and down a lot, up steep hills and down again, hundreds of metres. On our journey, we took a little spoonful of Coca extract to help us with the altitude sickness. Luisa had added some sugar, but it didn’t taste very pleasant. Still, it helped. I didn’t get any headaches or feel dizzy, even though we crossed 4,000 metres several times.

We were still driving on the road 3N, which could be driven quite well. When dusk fell, it was already clear to me that we would not make it to Caraz. But it got even worse. Suddenly a wooden van blocked our way. In front of it stood an army jeep and a large all-terrain vehicle. People were gesticulating excitedly. Then I saw the disaster. A rock fall had torn away part of the road. Getting ahead was impossible. Meanwhile, a truck loaded with stones was standing behind us. This also blocked the way back to Cabana. After some back and forth, Willka informed me that all the cars would have to wait until the morning. Then an excavator and a construction vehicle would repair the road. On the other side of the demolition site, the vehicles parked there shunted so that the next day the access to the construction site was possible from Huaraz.

I folded the middle bench for our overnight camp, wrapped Willka in a sleeping blanket and lay down next to her. After I wrapped us with another blanket from the expected cold, my companion moved away from me, avoiding any physical contact. Of course, it would have been better to warm each other, but I, of course, took into account their feelings. Before long, I was fast asleep.

In the middle of the night, I woke up. It was bitterly cold. I turned on the engine and in no time at all, the comforting warmth spread throughout the interior. I cuddled up to my partner, who had also woken up. She made no resistance to my touch, but even allowed me to put my arm under her head. This time, Willka fell asleep in front of me while I was thinking about what the new day would bring.

In the morning, I was awakened by engine noise. But they were not yet the expected construction vehicles. The trucks heated up their driver’s cab. I jumped outside. The morning sun was already warming the surroundings, but the road lay in the shadow of the mountains. Two soldiers had lit a fire in a rock niche. I sat down with them but could hardly communicate. They handed me hot tea. I got sugar, three flatbreads and Coca leaves from my car. The men smiled back at me and were really grateful for my gifts.

All of a sudden, Willka appeared at the fire. She gave me a little kiss on the lips and said, “Thank you!”

I looked at her in amazement. Smiling, she murmured in my ear, “Thank you so much, Michael. You’ve been really nice to me. I was so afraid of the first night with you, but it was nice to sleep next to you, to feel your warmth.”

Once more, she planted a kiss on my lips. This time she lingered for a few seconds, looking me deeply and firmly in the eyes with a warm, loving gaze. Then she greeted the soldiers with a cheerful smile and sat down with us. I handed her the rest of my bread. Over a cup of steaming tea, she chatted away to the uniformed officers. All of a sudden, the conversation took a more serious turn. The senior officer with two gold stripes on his shoulder pieces, according to Willka, was a ‘Teniente’, which I think means lieutenant. He asked, and my lovely companion translated for me. “Do you really belong to the group from the valley with the old silver mine? Oh, my goodness, did you really shoot down a Colombian army attack helicopter and blow up an armoured personnel carrier?”

Damn, that wasn’t anyone’s business here. I had forgotten to instruct Willka what we wanted to reveal about ourselves and what we didn’t. Now, unfortunately, it was too late. But, contrary to expectations, the subsequent conversation was cordial. The story of our successful battle had been the topic of conversation in the Peruvian army for days. However, the Peruvians did not want to believe that I was the only man in the valley, and that a woman and two teenagers had won the fight. They saw me as a hero, and they treated me like one, with so much respect.

Unfortunately, we still had to wait. We chewed another teaspoon of Luisa’s medicine for altitude sickness. It was a miracle cure. The buzzing in my ears subsided. My steps became safer again. I felt very good. I showed Willka how I cleaned my mouth with some drinking water. She also gave her mouth a nice, refreshing rinse. Then we each had a lovely big cup of Coca tea.

Ten o’clock was long gone when finally, a small truck drove up. The workers cleared the debris from the road, checked the strength of the demolition site. Determined, they laid two wooden planks on the outer part of the road. As a matter of course, the off-road vehicle started the engine and drove slowly over the temporarily repaired area. The jeep followed him. Anxiously I watched as I watched the timber transporter pass the danger point at a slow, steady pace. The makeshift bridge seemed to be holding. Our crossing was almost a breeze. Of course, I hid my excitement so as not to worry Willka.

The two soldiers were waiting in an alternative location. They needed a few litres of diesel to reach their destination. The soldier filled half a canister from us into his tank. I politely but firmly refused to be paid by the officer. Completely unaccustomed, he hugged me and patted me comradely on the shoulder. Willka just said: “Not all Claudio’s are bad.” Only now I learned the first name of the lieutenant, who was called like Willka’s rapist.

We made slow progress. The timber truck had problems on the next incline and suddenly drove up the slope with its left wheels to let us pass. I waved gratefully as I drove past. All the people here in the mountains were nice, helpful, and courteous, not like in the cities by the sea, where the stronger usually tries to dominate.

In the lovely little town of Caraz, nestled in the heart of the northern Andes, I stopped to let my contact in Huaraz know that we wouldn’t be able to make it until around 3 p.m. Willka had taken over the phone call and gave me another kiss as she handed me back my cell phone. I was really happy about that. She was so different, so open-minded, the way she usually only interacted with the children in our valley.

In Yungay, we ate delicious soup and drank aromatic tea made from the fruit of one of the rare elderberry bushes here. At the bank we were able to exchange 2,000 dollars with the help of Willka’s ID. I withdrew 1,000 Peruvian SOL using one of my credit cards.

Then things went faster. We crossed the towns of Carhuaz and Jangas and drove into the provincial capital of Huaraz, which appeared out of nowhere at an altitude of over 3,000 meters. Just before three p.m. we stood in front of the provincial administration. We were already expected. An older woman, apparently the head of the office, even spoke a little English, but Willka mostly had to translate. She looked at my business card in surprise.

“Oh, dear, I’m afraid your address is wrong. Oh, it looks like there’s been a little mix-up! Your valley actually belongs to the province of Ancash. I’ve already fixed the mistake on your application, so no worries. Your postal code is 02833.”

She was so kind and showed me the defined areas with the corresponding postcodes on an interactive map https://www.cybo.com/peru/. Unbelievable. There was a fantastic order in Peru. According to the map, only 1,038 people lived in our small district of 82 square kilometres. Even the average age of around 23 years was visible.

The statistics weren’t perfect, as they didn’t include the folks who lived in our valley or the mountain village. But it was really impressive how much importance they placed on recording everyone in this country. She even included our lovely little place of San Paradiso in her documents. Up until now, she’d only ever known San Huano in this area. She was really surprised to find out that more than two hundred people live with us and in the mountain village. I told her I’d send her a list with names, genders, and ages when I got back.

Corinna Fernandez, the head of the department, was enthusiastic about our idea of ​​helping homeless women. When I told her about the upcoming monthly payments from a major donor in London, she was excited.