August 3rd. Our Andean detour wound us up to the gate of Rainbow Mountain. Entry for the four of us was just 40 soles, $15 CDN. It was late afternoon—too late to hike to the viewpoint—so we decided to settle in for the night right there at the gate. By 5:30 p.m., the temperature had plunged and hail rattled down from the darkening sky. Women in traditional dress, their flared skirts picked their way down the road, bundled up as best they could but still frozen.

30 Soles and a Headless Deal

While chatting with the young gate attendant—a nice 20-year-old gal, I mentioned I was looking for an alpaca skin, like a sheepskin, to take home for our leather chair. I had spotted a few in the bar of a hotel in Puno & now I want one. Twenty minutes later she reappeared with an entire adult alpaca hide—legs, head, tail and all. It had been slaughtered just two weeks earlier. Dried, unwashed, straight off the animal. My first thought was no. Tanning a hide was far more work than I wanted to take on. But Tim suggested we might find someone in Cusco to process it for us. She offered to wash it right there, all for 30 soles. I agreed—on the condition that the head came off first.

Together we plunged away months of dust and lanolin until the wool came up white and wonderfully soft. The hide itself still needed to be fleshed, stretched, and tanned, but for now it was a start. I returned to the camper to find the heater running, the three of them deep into a game of Crib. lovely & warm.

mountains of colour

August 4th. We woke at 5 a.m. to the sound of workers heading up the mountain, preparing for the flood of tourists soon to arrive. By 7, the collectivos and tour buses were rolling in. Up at the main carpark, motorbikes and horses stood ready to ferry those unwilling—or unable—to tackle the climb on foot, handlers in thin flat shoes jogging alongside their horses, hustling to get the next ride.

We started our hike around 9:30 a.m. The trail was short—only about 1.5 km—but at 5,000 m altitude, it was a bit of an effort. The final push to the viewpoint was zig zagged, the view was well worth it.

The now famous ‘mountain’ Vinicunca, or Rainbow Mountain is a rippling hillside painted in surreal bands of red, ochre, turquoise, lavender, and gold. These colors are the result of millions of years of geological layering: iron oxide gives the reds, copper sulfates the greens, and sulfur the yellows, all revealed when tectonic forces thrust the Andes upward and wind and water stripped away the topsoil. The scene looked less like a mountain and more like a pastel layer cake.

stolen views of the really red valley

The cold wind with hot sun kept us alternating between jackets and gloves one moment, sun hats the next. From the ridge, the panorama stretched across the snow-dusted Andean peaks and down over the back valley which was another entrance to Rainbow mountain, then sweeping over into the Red Valley.

Following the path, we came to a stone wall where another 20 soles per person was demanded for entry. We weren’t keen to keep paying, and the request came with a rather aggressive warning not to take photos. Naturally, I managed to sneak a few quick shots before a guard was stationed beside us to prevent any more “stolen” photos. We were allowed to admire the view—but that was it.

The Red Valley was worth every bit of the hassle: a deep, mineral-rich basin of crimson slopes and ochre ridges, with greenery adding a vivid pop. Meandering trails etched the landscape, all framed by jagged peaks.

From Crimson Slopes to Canyon Roads

Circling back, we had to present our Rainbow Mountain tickets again—the territorial lines here are clearly drawn. Taking a quieter lower trail that wrapped around then climbed to the main viewpoint. By then, the crowds had thinned and the circus was winding down, letting us frame our photos without a thousand heads in the background.

The cold wind was picking up, we’d had our fill & started making our way back down in peace without being asked every 10 steps if we wanted to hire the horse. Bruce started first pop, black smoke billowing out, thankfully the carpark was now empty. She doesn’t really like the high altitude & cold temperatures.

On the last fuel stop, Tim put a mix of 18% gasoline to diesel in the front tank, which in theory, is to help prevent the diesel thickening in cold temps allowing the engine to start easier. Earlier this morning it took some time to get her going. We think it helps, just needed some extra time to warm the engine.

Descending we followed the narrow canyon road that wound through a couple of villages before leading to the main highway. I wonder how the villagers feel about the insane amount of tourist traffic that passes by their front doors religiously twice a day?

can’t always trust google maps

Camp for the night was at the base of some remote, restored ruins. Getting there, however, was a bit of a squeeze. My fault—I hadn’t looked ahead at Google’s directions, which sent us straight through a tiny village with streets barely wider than our truck. Expressionless eyes followed us as we inched past adobe brick walls that jutted into the road at sharp corners. This was one of those moments when I wished we were half the size.

With the help of a few locals—who moved a couple of moto-taxis out of the way—we finally made it. What should have been a short drive had stretched into an extra hour. Thankfully, it was worth it. We had the place entirely to ourselves, peaceful and with sweeping views of the valley below.

In the morning sun, Tim and I wandered among the moss-covered stones of the ruins before turning our wheels toward Cusco. The alpaca skin that had been drying on the front bumper was now folded at my feet, smelling distinctly of wet dog. I’m hoping we can find someone to treat it over the next two weeks—otherwise, I’ll have to ditch it.

A Smooth Exit Toward Cusco

Leaving was blissfully simple, down the hill through a larger town with wide, straight streets, opposite of yesterday’s maze. In no time, we were back on the main road, cruising toward the next adventure.

Next stop, the former Inca, now tourist capital of Peru