We awoke with a plan. The hotel is overshadowed by a flat-faced bluff, which is crowned with a wrought-iron cross. Much as Rio de Janiero, Chavín de Huantar has a crucifix looking over its shoulder – though, in highland fashion, they’ve decked it out in Vegas-style lights for the upcoming Festivál. So six A.M. saw us blearily shrugging on jackets and shoes for our first hike at altitude. We aimed our hour-long hike so that the sun would break the ridge just as we capped the peak. Hallelujah.
If you’ve ever hiked at altitude, or your flight has lost cabin pressure, you know what it’s like to gasp at nothing. That may be overstating it – in fact, you are gasping at very little. Because I’m a born and bred Marylander, my poor heart beats double-time to get my impoverished red blood cell population in and out of my lungs, so that I can continue to breathe. What wouldn’t faze a toddler takes the wind out of us, so that even walking up stairs (at, say, an huge archaelogical ruin) leaves us discreetly gasping.
So our hike went. Every eight or so minutes, we would stop along the trail and catch ourselves, take a picture, and wait for stragglers. Dawn was coming, but the early morning light was a strained twilight, a starched blue through the fog of our breaths. Soon enough, layers came off and draped around heaving necks, as bodies worked doubly hard to climb. Determined to keep the pace, a few of us kept on without breaks, one foot after another; it was absurdly difficult. The taste of blood bloomed coppery on the back of my tongue.
A few craggy switchbacks, and we were there: under the non-shadow of the great iron cross, which was sunk into a large rock plate. Boulders around its base let us slump back and pant unashamedly. As the Andean cold set in again, sweaters made their way back over damp heads. Across the mount, the sun moved in a sharp line, drawing closer to the valley. As it broke over the back of the cross, a rusted iron plate, it illuminated the scratched notes of generations of Chavínos. The whitewashed declarations were as cryptic as “Vaya al fondo, al cruz”, to the simpler – “Walter was here.”
Breakfast. Shower. Clothes. Announcements. Today is the first day of the rest of the trip, says Dr. Rick, and though our official permissions haven’t come through, we’re going to get started with one of the only things we can: the theodolite.
For non-archeologists, the theodolite is a wholly wonderful tool. It is a bit like a laser range finder, a compass, a calculator, and a hard drive, all handily mounted on a tripod. When told where it is, the theodolite will happily tell the user where any other observable point is. Useful, non?
The catch is that it’s a b@$%h to set up. It must be set up exactly over a known point. It must be absolutely level. It must agree that all other known points are as far away as you say. It must also be completely symmetric, that is – takes the same measurement of a point no matter how you swivel it. It must be loved. When you’re good to Theo, however, Theo is good to you.
In another acrophiliac moment, we set up the theodolite on the summit of one of the flanking mounds – Mound D. From there, we are the lords (and ladies) or all we survey. That is, the theodolite can see what we need it to. Only two can operate the station at a time, one to push buttons and one to stand afar and mark the point with a staff. The rest of us lounged in the long grass and had excellent naps, or otherwise got some reading in.
With a paltry 96 points recorded, we trooped back for dinner: a delicious meatball and rice confection. Honestly, if the dueña keeps making food this good, one of us is going to kidnap her.
This brings me to another point – my Spanish is having an affair with my English. That’s not to say I’m fluent – I’m just getting confused. Grammar in both tongues is often chancy with me, so that I’m saying things in my native English like: “This night, can you remind me…” or “is open the bakery?” Unacceptable. In the weeks to come, perhaps the languages will sort out, and I (forgive me) will be able to take my Español to even greater heights.
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