PERU: Tourists Overwhelm Rainbow Mountain

Tourists gasp for breath as they climb for two hours to a peak in the Peruvian Andes that stands 5,000 meters above sea level.

They’re dead tired, but stunned by the magical beauty unfurled before them.

Stripes of turquoise, lavender and gold blanket what has become known as Rainbow Mountain, a ridge of multicolored sediments laid down millions of years ago and pushed up as tectonic plates clashed.

It’s only within the last five years that the natural wonder has been discovered by the outside world, earning it must-see status on Peru’s burgeoning backpacker tourist circuit.

You see it in the pictures and you think it’s photo shopped, but it’s real, says a tourist from Mexico.

The popularity of Rainbow Mountain, which attracts up to 1,000 tourists each day, has provided a much-needed economic jolt to this remote region populated by struggling alpaca herders.

Environmentalists, however, fear the tourists could destroy the treasured landscape, which is already coveted by international mining companies.

From the ecological point of view they are killing the goose that lays the golden eggs, said Dina Farfan, a Peruvian biologist who has studied threatened wildlife in the area just a few hours from the Incan ruins of Machu Picchu.

As proof, he points to a 4-kilometer dirt trail climbed by tourists to reach Rainbow Mountain that has been badly eroded in the last 18 months, scarring the otherwise pristine landscape.

A wetland once popular with migrating ducks has also been turned into a parking lot the size of five football fields that fills each morning with vans of mostly European and American visitors.

There are more serious threats, too. Camino Minerals Corp., a Canadian-based mining company, has applied for mining rights in the mineral-rich area that includes the mountain.

The company does not respond to a request by The Associated Press for comment on its plans.

Yet the flood of tourists has meant jobs and hard cash for the local Pampachiri indigenous community, which has struggled with high rates of alcoholism, malnutrition and falling prices of wool for their prized alpaca.

Many have abandoned nomadic life for dangerous gold mining jobs in the Amazon.

Now, they charge tourists $3 each to enter their ancestral land, netting the community roughly $400,000 a year – a small fortune that has triggered a tax battle with an impoverished, nearby municipality, which has seen no part of the windfall.

The surge in tourists also comes with a responsibility to be good stewards of the environment and their new guests, and Pampachiri community leader Gabino Huaman admits he is not sure they are ready to fully handle it.

Despite the challenges, roughly 500 villagers have returned in the last couple of years to take up their ancestral trade of transporting goods across the Andes.

The difference is that now they are hauling tourists on horseback.

It’s a blessing, says Isaac Quispe, 25, who quit his job as a gold miner after six of his camp mates were murdered.

He returned home and bought a horse that last year earned him $5,200 hauling tourists uphill.

The guides dress in colorful woolen clothes and wide-brimmed, traditional hats to lead the horses.

Farfan, the biologist, said he hopes the Pampachiri can learn from other sustainable tourism endeavors in Peru.

It was the success of one such project, in the nearby town of Chillca, that first put Rainbow Mountain on the map.

For much of the past decade, a group of shepherds had been quietly taking small groups of tourists to the mountain as part of a five-day hike around the fast-melting Ausangate glacier.

Over time, and thanks to the stunning photographs posted on the internet, the secret got out.

Today the shepherds of Chillca manage four lodges made of eucalyptus wood with a capacity for 16 tourists each. They are lighted only by candle, but have hot water.

Arriving guests are given shoes made of alpaca leather and wool.

At dawn, lodge-keeper Orlando Garcia gently awakens his guests with a love song performed in the Quechua language.

You always have to be guessing what the client wants, and take care of it so you don’t lose their smile, Garcia says.

We want them to feel the greatest comfort at almost 16,404 feet.



Tourism Observer

PERU: Inca Festival Of The Sun In Cusco, Peru

Tika t'akaqkuna, the emperor's chosen women, scattering flowers ahead of his arrival.

Five centuries ago, the approach of the winter solstice must have been an anxious time for llamas grazing the Andean mountainsides near Cusco in modern-day Peru.

Here at the heart of the vast Inca empire that stretched from Colombia to Chile, the Inca emperor and his subjects would gather as the Sun reached its furthest point from the land and order a mass sacrifice of llamas to appease the Sun god, Inti. The Incas believed that the spilling of llama blood and other rituals would ensure Inti and his life-giving warmth and light would return; crops would grow and thus save them from starvation.

The Inca emperor arrives on a replica of the original golden litter.

Today, during the re-enactment of the ceremony that takes places annually in Cusco, llamas are once again centre stage, but, like the crowds who come to watch, they all get to go home afterwards unscathed.

Inti Raymi (Festival of the Sun) celebrations take place in Cusco over several days but the most important rituals occur on June 24, the day of the winter equinox. Thousands of Peruvians, augmented by many hundreds of overseas visitors, start the day by making their way to the plaza beside the ruins of what was once the richest temple in the Inca Empire, Qorikancha.

Cusco was the capital of the Incas' vast empire and was built in the shape of a puma, an animal they held sacred. Now probably best known as the builders of the stupendous "lost city" of Machu Picchu, the Incas for just over 100 years controlled the largest empire in the Americas. Springing from modest origins, probably as Andean llama herders, the Incas first began to figure in South American history during the late 12th to early 13th centuries but, for a relatively brief golden era between the 1430s and just before their final defeat by the Spanish in 1572, the Incas ruled the Andes and an empire encompassing most of modern-day Peru, along with parts of Colombia, Bolivia, Argentina and Chile.

The representatives from the expanse of the Inca empire saluting the sun during the ceremony.

When the Spanish conquistadors fought their way through to Cusco in 1533 they found the walls of the Qorikancha temple lined with gold, 700 sheets of it, about 1400 kilograms in total. Subsidiary small temples dedicated to the moon and the stars were lined with sheets of solid silver. The temple, which had been built by the Incas' 10th emperor in the mid 15th century, was stripped of its treasures by the Spanish. By 1536 the temple had been handed over to the Dominican religious order, which converted it to a church and monastery, and banned the Inti Raymi for good measure.

Although the Incas' veneration of the Sun, along with their fascination and plethora of beliefs connected with the night skies, imply a heritage of age-old beliefs, the first Inti Raymi was in fact held for the first time in only 1412. It would not be reinstated until 1944.

On the morning of the 2015 re-enactment, Cusco's streets were a jostling mass of humanity... and a few llamas. Most of the locals were Quechua, direct descendants of the Incas. Traditionally dressed women, small in height but due to the voluminous nature of their skirts almost circular in breadth – posed artfully in their bowler hats beside immaculately groomed llamas. Some even added a snowy white lamb to the composition and ruthlessly pursued any tourist who neglected to pay a tip for a photo.

A sacred fire, lit from the rays of the sun, takes hold.

The aroma of giant heaps of freshly cooked popcorn drifted over the crowds; I resisted and chewed on coca sweets instead. At 3300m, Cusco can be literally breathtaking and coca leaves (from which cocaine is derived) are a recognised treatment for keeping mild altitude sickness at bay (quaffing coca tea is the more regular way to imbibe one's perfectly legal dose of coca, but to me it's akin to trying to drink a cupful of bay leaves steeped in hot water).

There was roast guinea pig available for lunch too. It's surprisingly rich and rather greasy but, if the painting in Cusco's cathedral is any indication, it received divine approval – it was the main dish served at the Last Supper, according to an 18th-century Quechua artist.

We watched the first part of Inti Raymi from a classroom overlooking the temple ruins and the grassy expanse of the adjacent plaza. Accompanied by a band of drummers and panpipers, hundreds of performers in an array of traditional costume danced their way into the open space. Above them, on the Inca-built stone terraces on which the temple was built, more participants emerged – Inca high priests, sweepers cleaning the path before the emperor, his chosen women scattering flowers ahead of him, and finally the emperor himself, along with the empress.

The Inca emperor’s handmaidens make their ceremonial entrance.


The rhythmic beat of the drums, the repetitive melodies from the panpipes and the swirl of colour and pageantry below was mesmerising. After addressing the Sun, the emperor, now borne on a golden litter, was carried in procession for 5km through the city and up to the former Inca stronghold of Saqsaywaman.

We made a less splendid journey to the site by bus. Saqsaywaman had, until the Spanish arrived, been a centre for Inca religious and military events and, with a backdrop of snow-capped Andean peaks, now made a spectacular setting for a second re-enactment of the Inti Raymi.

There were temporary stands for tourists but the hill behind had disappeared completely under a sea of locals; balloon sellers, wares bobbing overhead, wove among them, while down at our level, paramedics stretchered away at least two spectators with breathing problems.

A Quechua woman and companion making the most of one of the busiest days in Cusco's tourist calendar.

Dancers, some clad in multi-coloured skirts, other with feather headdresses, and others in rather scanty Amazonian-inspired attire (who were noticeably shaking with cold as the sun dipped low after about 4pm), filled the grassy square. The emperor descended from the fortress ruins, heralded by plumes of red smoke. His subjects paid homage, each section of the assembly dancing before him and offering tributes.

Corralled at the base of some of the original fortifications were a dozen or so llamas. As the climax of the ceremony approached several minions were sent to collect the chosen animal which was then "sacrificed" on the central altar.It could have been even more dramatic as apparently the Incas regularly made blood sacrifices of children or slaves.

The llama was either exceptionally well trained or tranquillised as it lay totally still, giving an extremely good impersonation of a sacrificially dispatched offering. Bonfires were lit and as one, the entire cast of hundreds turned towards the setting Sun and saluted its wintry light.

Yes, it was all very stage-managed and far more of a choreographed spectacle than what would have transpired 500 years ago. However, as the emperor, breastplate gleaming gold in the light, arms raised, pleaded with the Sun to return, it was impossible not to be transported, albeit briefly, back to a time of Sun gods, Earth mothers, sacred pumas and revered llamas.