An early start for the journey to Cabanaconde – with my taxi to the bus terminal booked for 3.45 I’d set the alarm for 3.15. But slept very fitfully and was awake just before 3am anyway. Turns out Arequipa is a party town – I’d put my earplugs in to drown out the noise when I went to bed but as soon as I removed them I could hear the music and revelry in the street outside.

I checked out of my room and used my best Spanish to negotiate leaving my suitcase with the hotel until Monday so that I can travel to the canyon with just the small day pack containing what I’ll need for the 2 days I’ll be there. The receptionist confirmed that the taxi had been booked and directed me to wait in reception for its arrival.

When it hadn’t arrived by 3.47 he got up and went out into the street to look for it. I could see he was checking an app at the same time but didn’t seem reassured by what he was seeing. There were, however, numerous taxis outside, queuing to get through the always busy traffic. After a couple more minutes he approached a waiting taxi and negotiated a price with the driver, turning to me and offering “catorce soles”. The receptionist who had booked the original taxi for me had told me it would cost 25 soles so in my early morning befuddlement I thought I was now being asked to pay 40 soles, and hesitated briefly before deciding I wasn’t willing to haggle. I heard the receptionist clearly restate the price to the driver as I got in, and it was only as we drove away that I remembered 40 is cuarenta and the price had been actually agreed at 14 soles! Bargain!

Once we got away from the centre of Arequipa the traffic magically cleared and we reached Terminal Terrestre just after 4am, giving me (thankfully) plenty of time to try to find the right bus.

There is no departure board or any kind of general information but I could see a gate leading out towards some waiting buses and so approached the guard on the gate to ask where I should go for the bus to Cabanaconde.

He indicated I need to head toward the far end of the terminal on the left so I headed off in that direction looking for another departure gate. As I was walking past, a man called out to me from a kiosk and I impatiently responded “no gracias” assuming he was trying to sell me something. But as I approached the end of the building with no sign of another gate it occurred to me that maybe it was this man, rather than a departure gate, that I had been sent to. So turned back and approached the desk, where he produced a passenger manifest for the bus and asked for my name and if I’d booked. It turned out my booking had been registered under “tourist” so once I’d filled in my name and passport number against the seat number I’d booked, he handed me a piece of paper and directed me back to the original departure gate.

It was at this point that we entered true farce territory. I handed the piece of paper to the guard, thinking surely I was now good to go, but instead he directed me towards an area of the terminal directly opposite the gate; he described it as “by the blue sign” and seemed to be telling me to go through that area. Well I could see a blue sign but it was above the toilets and there was a man seated at a little desk next to the toilets who I assumed was collecting payment for use of the toilet. I kept saying to the guard “I don’t want to use the toilet” and he kept urging me to head that way, but I’ve never been any good at following instructions that I can’t make sense of so I simply stopped midway between the guard and the toilets and looked back at him helplessly, at which point he gave a huge sigh of exasperation and walked me over to the desk, where he indicated I needed to pay the 1.5 soles “embarcation fee” which I hadn’t spotted on the piece of paper I’d been given. I still have no idea why the embarcation fee is not simply included in the ticket price, but paid it and was finally directed back to the gate and to the bus!

As I got on the bus I saw a couple ahead of me using a torch to find their seats (it was still dark outside and there were no lights on inside) and was delighted to hear him speaking English (with a lovely Irish accent). We shared a laugh about the embarcation fee debacle, as it turned out they had had a similar “but I don’t want to use the toilet” conversation with the guard. It turned out they had originally been booked on an earlier bus with a different company, which hadn’t turned up! They had been waiting in the terminal since 2.45am and were exhausted, so both went straight to sleep as we set off.

I had been dreading the 5-6 hour bus journey but the seats were surprisingly comfortable with enormous amounts of leg room and plenty of space to recline.

And once we got going the scenery provided plenty of distraction, as the road climbed steadily past Chachani and numerous other mountains and volcanoes, eventually reaching the top of a pass and descending via switchbacks into Chivay. There was a short stop at Chivay to let passengers get on and off, and I used the opportunity to quickly nip to the loo before we continued the journey to Cabanaconde.

We stopped frequently between Chivay and Cabanaconde to let passengers on and off at what appeared to be completely random spots along the road, or at villages that consisted of just a few stone buildings mostly with corrugated iron roofs. But having passed through the final intermediate village, we suddenly were treated to the sight of loads of condors flying around at the top of the canyon. This is a popular viewpoint called Cruz Del Condor – all the tourist buses stop here and there were large numbers of tourists at the viewpoint, but I was on a regular bus which didn’t stop.

We stoped shortly after that point, though, to let a passenger off, and the conductor came to tell us that there were only two more stops to go. The Irish couple were planning to hike straight down into the canyon so needed to go into the centre of Cabanaconde. I had a quick check of Google maps to see where we were in relation to my hostel and we looked pretty close so I gathered my things and headed towards the exit door, saying “Pachamama?” (the name of the hostel) to the conductor. The Irish couple also got up but we were all told to stay on, and the bus proceeded to drop me right outside the door of the hostel, with the Irish couple staying on until the terminus which was no more than 100 metres further down the road! I could easily have walked up from the terminus but certainly appreciated being dropped right outside!

I went inside to check in and was greeted by Leandro, a wonderfully friendly hostel general manager who took one look at my passport and said “Ah, happy birthday!” He then told me his birthday is tomorrow and Annika, who had also just arrived, has her birthday the following day – prompting the below birthday selfie.

I was feeling quite energetic at this stage but following Leandro up the two flights of the spiral staircase to my room suddenly had me gasping for breath – Cabanaconde is at 3287m above sea level. Suddenly the hammocks on the porch looked incredibly inviting and after settling into my room I went and lay in one for a while, absolutely loving the gentle rocking of the hammock which would have sent me off to sleep were it not for the searing heat.

I probably only lasted about 20 minutes before I had to awkwardly clamber out and retreat to the cool of my room to decide what to do with my day – it was still only 10.30 am, after all.

The day ended up being a mixture of starting to write up this blog, catching up on birthday messages from family and friends and eventually, when the breeze picked up in the mid afternoon, going for a very gentle walk to a couple of the viewpoints above the canyon. I was still finding any exertion would get me out of breath and a faint headache was starting to build.

By the evening my head was absolutely pounding and it was all I could do to finish my dinner and sit through Leandro’s briefing about the various routes in the canyon, before making my excuses and heading to bed. The hostel runs a daily minibus tour to Cruz Del Condor from 7-9 am and I had thought earlier that I may join the tour the following morning before starting my hike, but I was feeling so dreadful I just wanted to head straight down into the canyon after breakfast to get to a lower altitude and also to avoid the heat as much as possible, so told Leandro I would skip the tour.

I woke up around 5.30 the next morning having slept surprisingly well, still with a headache, though thankfully not as intense as the night before. After swallowing a whole load of water I tried to lie down and go back to sleep (breakfast wasn’t until 7am) but it was no good, lying down just made my headache worse and I was feeling pretty wide awake, so decided to go out for a walk to try to clear my head.

Unfortunately the main entrance door to the hostel was locked and I couldn’t figure out a way to unlock it so settled for laps of the terrace for a few minutes until Ludwig, the owner, suddenly arrived and unlocked the door. I explained I’d been waiting for the door to be unlocked and he said I could have unlocked it myself by manually pushing the bolts across – you live and learn!

The walk did a good job of reviving me and when I got back around 6.40 and saw a group already eating breakfast (those going on the Cruz Del Condor tour have an earlier 6.30 breakfast) I nipped into the room and asked if I could join the tour to Cruz Del Condor after all. Thankfully there was still a space available and I was able to quickly eat my breakfast and have a drink of coca tea before we all set off.

Well all I can say is I’m so glad I went on the tour! When we first arrived at the viewpoint around 7.20 there were no condors to be seen but Ludwig told us they would start to appear soon as the day warmed up. He gave us some information about the condors and then told us to walk around by ourselves and meet back at the van at 8.40.

It was probably about 20 minutes before the first condor appeared but it was soon followed by a second, and then a third and a fourth. At first they were just gliding back and forth a short distance below us, but as it got warmer they came higher and at one stage one flew directly over our heads, so close I could look it in the eye and really appreciate its huge wing span. 8.40 came too fast and we all had to drag ourselves away from the condors and head back the waiting minivan.

Back at the hostel I quickly packed my bag and checked out, then headed off to hike down to Sangalle, an oasis at the bottom of the canyon where a handful of lodges offer bed and breakfast with tantalising swimming pools set among lush tropical gardens. The oasis is not visible from the start point of the trail but reveals itself once you get about half way down.

The hike itself consists of one clear trail which heads down the canyon wall via a series of steep switchbacks. The trail is rocky, sandy and uneven at all points and the total descent is 1200m – I had read beforehand about it being hard work on the knees so had come prepared with my hiking poles, and just kept up as steady a pace as I could in the now searing heat, admiring the views of the canyon and occasionally stopping to take pictures.

As I reached the point where the oasis came into view I heard voices below me and a couple of minutes later saw the Irish couple making their way up. They were looking very hot indeed and cursing their decision not to set off earlier. We had a brief chat and then went our separate ways.

I had booked to stay at the Oasis Paraiso Ecolodge and as I got closer to the oasis I started spotting signs on some of the rocks indicating which way to go for various lodges – none indicated Ecolodge but one very large one indicated “Paraiso Palmeras” and so I followed that, assuming that Ecolodge would be nearby. But as I continued down the path, more signs appeared for other lodges, with still none for Ecolodge.

Arriving at Palmeras, I asked for directions to Ecolodge and was directed up a path through the gardens and told to turn left up ahead. I then spent the next 30 minutes walking round in circles as every left turn I encountered would put me on a path that would eventually dwindle to impenetrable forest. I kept checking Maps.me which told me I was one minute away and suddenly I could see the Ecolodge, tantalisingly close but with no clear path to it from where I was.

I started trying to make my way across on a vague path I could see lower down and then thankfully a local man came into view and I asked him how to get to the Ecolodge. He explained that I needed to go back up the main path I’d come down until I reached a point where I could turn left – effectively I had to go back to a point above the Ecolodge to get back down to it. I was cursing and dripping with sweat by this stage but his directions proved accurate and I eventually found the right lodge.

I went to check in and complained to the owner about the lack of a sign – she just shrugged and showed me to my cabin. I stripped off and jumped straight in the shower which completely failed to warm up, cooling me down instantly!

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing, alternating between the pool and my bedroom as the temperature in the canyon dipped shortly after my arrival as a cloud cover suddenly built up, and then warmed up again mid afternoon as the sun reappeared.

At dinner I shared a table with a pair of Belgian girls and a German couple and we all got on well, comparing travel plans and experiences.

It was another early start the next morning, with some groups setting off in the dark at 4am. I waited for breakfast which was served at 5am – banana slices sandwiched between two large pancakes, with jam to spread on top – and by the time I’d finished eating the sun had come up and I was able to set off in daylight. The Belgian girls set off a few minutes behind me but soon overtook me.

I settled into my usual slow uphill pace and was relieved to find I was able to maintain it without feeling ill or short of breath. I still had a vague headache but it wasn’t debilitating and I was gratified to find I was actually more or less keeping pace with the Belgian girls, as I could often see them just one or two switchbacks ahead. Near the top of the canyon I encountered a young girl ahead of me who was plodding up at a slower pace than mine. She stood aside to let me pass and I asked how she was doing, expecting her to say “fine” or “tired” but she said she was exhausted and feeling a bit dizzy, and also seemed quite anxious as she told me her guide was behind her (I had passed him a few minutes earlier, chatting on his phone to someone) but the guide had apparently told her she should be at the top by 8 am and it was now 7.55. I said “well you won’t be up by 8 but it won’t be long afterwards and you’re doing fine”. I asked if she was drinking plenty of water and she admitted she was trying to ration what she had left as she was almost out. I had set out with two 750 ml bottles full, expecting to need both, but had actually only drunk about two thirds of the first bottle by this stage – the second bottle was still full. So I offered her half of that and she accepted gratefully. At this stage her guide caught up with us and I left them to it and continued up, expecting it to be another twenty minutes to half an hour to the top, but within 5 minutes I rounded a corner and saw the two Belgian girls just ahead, at the top. Just a few minutes later I was there too, and there was much mutual congratulation and admiration at how quickly we had all made it up – just under 3 hours in my case (I had mentally prepared for it to take 4-5 hours if I found myself struggling with the altitude on the climb).

There was then plenty of time to buy a ticket for the 9.30 bus to Arequipa and to pop back to Pachamama to say hi to Leandro and assure him I had got back safely, as I knew he had been concerned when I mentioned I was struggling with the altitude. He had actually advised me that if I didn’t feel up to walking out I could ask the Ecolodge to book a mule to carry me out – but I would have had to be feeling very sick indeed to have taken that option! I had actually been passed on the way up by a pack of mules carrying provisions up the track – there were a couple of spare unburdened mules among the pack and I’d wondered if this was in case anyone found themselves part way up and unable to continue!

The bus journey back to Arequipa will go down in memory as the worst bus journey of my lifetime to date. From seats that were nowhere near as comfortable or roomy as the previous bus, to seemingly no suspension meaning almost the entire journey felt like it was on a dirt road, with the bus bouncing and rattling over every little bump, to urgent repairs being carried out by the driver and conductor when we reached Chivay, my headache was already starting to build, particularly as the day got hotter. But the final nail in the proverbial coffin was when music suddenly started blasting out of the speakers. I had been listening to my own music with my headphones in but this completely drowned it out. And the same song was just on an endless loop – we literally had three hours of listening to the same song over and over again. It was impossible to tune it out, though amazingly, most of the locals on the bus seemed to be able to sleep right through it.

There was a solid door separating the driver’s cabin from the passenger area and at one stage I went up and banged on it, hoping to be able to ask for it to be turned down or at least to be changed to something different. But there was no response to my banging and a local lady sitting in the front seat asked me if I was wanting to pay. I explained that it was the music that was the issue but she didn’t seem to understand why I had an issue with it and my Spanish failed me in trying to explain that hearing the same song, at volume, over and over again was almost making my head explode. I eventually gave up and went back to my seat, popping a couple of paracetamol to try to calm down my pounding head.

After a further hour of this torture we were approaching Arequipa and I noticed a Dutch couple a few rows ahead, gathering up their belongings to get off. We had got chatting during the delay at Chivay and they had mentioned they had a flight to catch and were concerned about the delay to the journey. I quickly consulted Google maps and realised we were very close to the airport and I could see a load of taxis at the bus stop, so without thinking it through, grabbed my bag and followed them off the bus.

A waiting taxi driver called out “taxi?” and I said yes and just jumped straight in without even thinking to negotiate the fare. I was just so happy to be off the bus – I had 68 soles cash on me and given the usual fare from the airport is 35 soles I figured even if he really tried to rip me off I’d happily give him the entire 68 soles if I had to!

It was when he pulled into a petrol station to remove the taxi sign from his roof that I started to have severe misgivings. He still had a sticker in the window proclaiming Taxi and in my exhausted state I told myself he clearly was not licensed and was hiding the sign before entering central Arequipa where his presumably fake sign would be more likely to be spotted as such. And as we entered the main road into the centre he removed the sticker from the window, too!

Thankfully the hostel was very close at this point and I got him to pull over and asked how much he wanted, ready to haggle if he went too high. He asked for 20 soles, which I was happy to pay, but I only had a 50 note and he had no change, so I offered him the 18 soles I had in coins and after much grumbling he accepted it. I’m not sure what he would have done if I’d just got out and legged it – there were loads of people around and he’d have had a hard time explaining why he was impersonating a taxi driver. But from my perspective 18 soles was a small price to pay for getting off that awful bus – and even if I’d stayed on it until the terminus, I’d still have needed a taxi from there.

Off to Cusco in the morning and more than a little worried about the altitude. Though I suspect it’s been the heat combined with the altitude that has had my head pounding the last few days, so hoping the cooler temperatures in Cusco may help to compensate.