The Sacred Valley

The miraculous highlight of this week was a spontaneous group trip to the Sacred Valley. What I knew of it in advance was that it was where the Spaniards finally defeated the Inca. I knew that there were Incan rock ruins, some of them quite spectacular. What I never read about was that the scenery is breathtaking - with very vertical and rugged, glacial capped mountains ringing one side and somewhat less rugged grasslands blindingly lit by a brilliant blue sky, puffy clouds and no contrails messing up the sacredness of this gorgeous place. The stars must be amazing at night. I wish I could lie out in a field and gaze at them.

So much of it reminded me of my several summers working on a ranch in S Colorado, with the mesa backing up the ranch and the vistas stretching for miles. Both places have a way of drawing out my soul until I feel spread thin and peacefully at one.

Our group morphed from 4-5 to 15 in the course of about 1/2 hour. Some superior Spanish speakers negotiated a van for the day - 20 soles from 8Am to 5ish. (20 soles is about $7 each) It was a very congenial multi-national, multi-age group and we all seemed to resonate to the same things.

Our first stop was Moray on a much eroded high plateau which was scattered all over with hand turned soil, cut into large chunks and then lifted and rolled over. These chunks are latter broken down still further with heavy hoes - then potatoes are planted and later harvested. Some fields are for hay. The hay is piled into stacks about 6 feet high and about the same around. Ropes can be wrapped around them and the hay can be hauled by man or beast to other sites. It's hard and wearisome work. But on the bright side a bailing machine was seen on one field, so some relief is in sight. It will never be like the grasslands in the American west. The roads aren't wide enough for the equipment to be brought in (barely wide enough for 2 normal vehicles) and the gullies make efficiencies more difficult.

Moray is thought to be an Incan agricultural research station, with the temperature gradient between the top and bottom terraces about 30 degrees F. Some research has been done here and they have found that soils from various parts of Peru were hauled in to lay our on different terrace levels. Because the altitude is so high and the soil so poor, plants struggle to grow. There are ~3000 potato varieties, so something works.

Moray has 3 sections - 2 adjacent circular terraced areas and a more rectangular area higher up the hill. Each terrace is built with magnificent stone work and built in steps. They are between 3 and 5 feet high. The rectangular area has beautifully squared off corners, a feat of engineering in itself. Apparently the irrigation was also done with precision and perfection, though I didn't see any evidence of irrigation. I was told that each terrace had gravel laid over with soil so that water didn't pool. Clever, clever people. I certainly wondered why no recent peoples have used this place, if not for research, then just for growing things, but there was absolutely no evidence of this.

What I did like - a lot - was that any given location, I could find a way to see out of the depressions to the snowy peaks in the distance. Just that possibility gave the site a sense of spiritual grace.

Other than farm animals, tethered pigs and burros, flocks of sheep and the occasional horse, I saw no wildlife, just a few hawks soaring for great distances on some thermals. (I am tempted to try paragliding so I can see what a hawk sees - at least for a moment.)

At the top of the largest slope of Moray, were several thatched shelters where women were trying to sell their handiwork. I instantly found the one handwoven piece that will give me satisfaction to have at home as a reminder of Peru. I didn't bargain hard enough according to my house hostess, but I knew instantly that it was what I wanted and so I am happy to have given her an extra $20. I found a couple of handknit hats and a beautifully polished piece of conglomerate rock.

Our exit from Moray was perfect. We walked. For about 2 hours we followed the path/road through fields, past eucalyptus and even one tall white pine. The path was lined occasionally by what looked like agave plants, but I guess they aren't the right kind because I have not seen tequila here. The native alcohol is either pisco brandy, made from grapes, or chicha made from corn.

Our route meandered in and out of gullies and down and up eroded slopes. It was very dusty and at times tiring, but I remembered my Dad and the way he used to pace us when we were young. He was steady and we were running ahead and lagging behind like children do. He always got there first and rested. Well I didn't get there first, but I did feel really, really good that I wasn't last and that I wasn't as winded by the heat, dust and altitude as some of the others. As with any good long walk, there were quite a few great conversations and bonding among the walkers. It was great. I was deeply satisfied.

Happily I brought along several clementines which worked wonders on my thirst.

I met a young couple who turned out to be from Boston too and we talked at some length about Montessori and about the Destination Imagination concept. I'm hoping they go home and find a team to manage. I think they'd be great at it.

Later in the afternoon we drove to Salinas - and believe it or not - the sole product of the tiny town is salt from salt flats they've built and expanded from the pre-Incan centuries. Apparently anyone can decide to farm a salt flat, but the workers are generally of one extended family. This is the story of their work.

It takes 15 days to harvest salt. Day one salty water from the underground stream is guided to the flat. After a few days more water is added. a few days later, when it is almost completely dry someone breaks up the crystals into smaller sizes by walking all over them. Then another person scrapes up the crystals into a pile and walks on them again to break them up even further. After another day or two, the salt is harvested. The workers get 10 Soles ($2.75) for about 100 lbs of salt. So much for the benefit of the little guy. But it is steady work and there are some skills and artistry and I'm sure efficiency techniques that they hold dear.

I kept finding eyes yearning for the snowy peaks, and indeed there they were and I could feel uplifted again. In my family my Dad yearned for mountains and my Mom yearned for the sea. We went to the mountains more.

Riding home was in great contentment. The sort of feeling that comes after a really lovely day - completely fulfilling in mind, body and spirit - enhanced by a very close feeling among the group members. Very, very nice.

Back at the house, the roommates of the week, 3 really nice 20 somethings from Wisconsin, were returning from paragliding and river rafting. so they were filled with the satisfaction of a high adrenaline day. It was fun to compare notes.

One beer later and I was down for 10 hours. I woke up dreaming that I was taking Ann Romney fishing!! Where did that come from!