I had seen Rainbow Mountain in photographs and it intrigued me so much that I knew a visit would be one of our first activities when we returned to Peru. That is exactly what we did: while in Cusco, we booked a tour to Rainbow Mountain, or Vinicunca.
Cusco is the right place to buy a tour. Competition among tour operators is so fierce that, in terms of both time and money, booking a tour is more practical than planning the hike yourself. A one-day tour costs 120 soles (€33) per person and includes return transport, breakfast, lunch, and a guide.
At three in the morning, we wait for the minibus at the agreed spot in Cusco’s central square. The drive to the trailhead will take more than two hours, so naturally every passenger continues their night’s sleep. After sunrise, Jānis wakes me and points out of the window. My eyes widen in astonishment: we are travelling along a small gravel road in the middle of an immense canyon.
Over breakfast, we are briefed about the hike, which is expected to last about eight hours. The fifteen-kilometre route begins at 4,326 metres above sea level and ends on Vinicunca’s 5,020-metre summit. Oh, it is so early and so cold, and today I do not feel remotely inclined to torture myself. The bus carries us another twenty minutes to the starting point. There I see the snowy peak of Ausangate, the highest mountain in the Cusco region. Beautiful views really do inspire great deeds—or, this time, great heights—and the necessary hiking spirit appears out of nowhere. The guide explains that the first section climbs steeply, after which the trail becomes gentler and rises more evenly. The terrain also makes it possible to hire a horse.
The steep ascent begins. Within minutes my back is wet and the winter coat has to come off. At this altitude, the climb has already worn out several people in the group. Many begin to suffer from altitude sickness, and we share our Soroche tablets, which we no longer need. Unsurprisingly, those feeling worst have only recently flown to Cusco from sea-level Lima. People, you need at least a couple of days to acclimatise in Cusco! All right, all right—we made the same mistake when we decided to conquer El Misti (5,822 m) just after arriving from Europe.
After the madness of the first climb, the promised horses are waiting. A very clever move: locals position themselves strategically at the point where headache-stricken gringos begin wondering whether they want to continue at all. The women we helped with Soroche tell the guide they will need horses. It costs 50 soles (€14) and provides a faithful companion for at least the next four hours. Hmm. Everything around us is so beautiful that, for once, I truly do not want to spoil it by making myself suffer. Besides, I have never encountered a mountain trail better suited to riding. The decision is made: I order a horse too, while Jānis, in a sporting mood, continues on foot.
I am given a little white horse. We are introduced: Blanquito—“little white one” in Spanish. It will not be a private ride for the two of us, as a local woman will lead the horse by its reins. She wears traditional clothing and only sandals on her bare feet. All the bustle of assigning horses has left me cold again, and I laugh at the sight of us foreigners bundled into branded winter coats while the local men and women wear nothing but sandals. Every horse, Blanquito included, is smaller and shaggier than the horses I have ridden in Latvia. Once we set off, however, he seems quite lively and does not appear overly burdened by my weight.
The surrounding mountains are already colourful. From horseback, I take in the views, photograph them, and congratulate myself on my decision. As we leisurely pass someone vomiting and others who are exhausted, I am glad I chose not to torture myself today.
I do have to dismount on the steepest sections. In some places, though, Blanquito strides on so energetically that the woman signals we will not follow everyone else’s example and will keep going.
I say goodbye to Blanquito where the final climb to Vinicunca’s summit begins and tell the woman that I will walk back down. With a broad smile—my “climb” has been thoroughly enjoyable—I meet Jānis and we continue upwards together. You know, a white horse does wonders for one’s confidence, so I offer to carry Jānis to the top. Harsh reality replies: “The princess has dismounted her white horse, but the prince refuses to carry her up the mountain.” And so, accompanied by a fierce wind and falling snow, we haul ourselves along the ridge one small step at a time.
Yes, we are at the summit! All means are fair when it comes to reaching a goal, because both of us—Jānis and I—are equally delighted.
P.S. The walk down feels long too, though not tiring. The next day, Jānis is perfectly fine, while my back muscles ache pleasantly. That is one more advantage of riding a horse once your leg muscles have long since stopped aching after hikes.