Lares Trek – Peru

Now that we're gearing up to hike, we'll be starting the journey of 20.5 miles. Like the journey of a thousand miles, this one also starts with a single step. That first single step was exhilarating, but it the millions of steps in the middle I a problem with.

I think the only thing that got me through the Lares Trek was the food. Norman, our cook, was a 20-something with a skill that no mountain high, no valley low can suppress. Even our altitude-dulled taste buds and cerebral edema-induced nausea were no match for his seasoning.

Our first mountain meal started with a light but hearty veggie noodle Soup after a light but hearty hike. A derivative of chicken noodle with none of the fatty condensation from Campbell's, steaming as hot as the aguas calientes where we started our hike.

The first entree was my favorite, a succulent slice of Red Trout with a cold side of causa and impossibly sweet carrots. The trout tastes fresh-caught, and even my altitude nausea wasn’t enough to keep me from cleaning my plate.

The sweet little Strawberry Swirl is a high note to end on. If the tea doesn't help your headache, refined sugar seems to be the next best thing.

I had heard that the Lares Trek was great, but I had no idea just how amazing it was. We blazed our trail through the llama paths, and we walked right through the Andean villages along the way. 

The first day's 5 miles were easy enough. A lot of cross-mountain with a little bit of hill, not a bad transition from hot springs to cushy camp.

Dinner was as luxurious as the plumbing and showers, with a thick, leafy Squash Soup. Salt and peppered to perfection, this filling slurry slides easily down a perfusion-deficient digestive tract.

The problem with so much soup is that it takes you out of the tent and to the toilet at all hours of the night. The problem with going to the toilet is that you have to sweep your flashlight beam in several circles to make sure there are no pumas waiting to pounce.

That’s where the saucy Chicken and rice comes in. The protein gives you the strength to climb out of bed, and the carbs keep you warm on a sub-zero mountain night. The crispy onion ring reminds you that good things lie ahead. But seriously, how they managed to deep fry something at 12,000 feet is beyond the comprehension of my swollen brain.

I missed most of breakfast the next morning thanks to throbbing temples and the world-spinning, stop-you-in-your-tracks feeling of my insides turning out. The big, fluffy Pancake laced with nutella was the pancake to end all pancakes. I took four whole bites despite my nausea because it was just that good.

I spent most of the morning wishing I had eaten that pancake. Because cerebral edema didn’t get me but 10.5 miles and 15,000 feet did. The 3000-foot near-vertical climb to the top was hard enough, but it wasn’t nearly as hard as the blizzard at the summit.

We practically sprinted to the downhill camp for lunch where the grainy Quinoa Soup was waiting for us to emerge from the clouds. Count this as the second time in my life I've actually liked quinoa.

Blizzards are bad, but treading down sloughing hills rich with slippery stones and soaked with mud is a different kind of challenge. The parmy pasta pie replaced the carbs lost on the rocks and the protein-licious Chicken added an extra boost for tired quads.

The Apple Pie is all sweetness with a shot of cinnamon, a little extra for the rest of 10.5.

I don't know how they do it, but the porters and cook pack up the camp after we leave and run alongside the pack horses to set up the next camp before we stumble breathlessly in.

We took so long they even had time to make us a snack. Pre-dinner started with tea and popcorn as a precursor to another solid Soup. Warm liquid-veggies acted like an extra layer in the cold, pouring rain.

The Chicken tasted Marsala-ish, an Italian-inspired theme accented with the most amazing fried slices of eggplant I've ever had.

The last day was dry, and the descent into a gorgeous valley was breathtaking…almost as breathtaking as the eggplant. The view was unbeatable, but I wish I hadn't had to hike through literal hell and high water to get there.

But we did get there, and there was where all good things had to come to an end. The impossibly thin, hammy last-breakfast Omelet tasted like a fiesta, a celebration of the return to warm beds and hot water.

At first I couldn’t wait to be done, but only three hours later, our last Soup was a bittersweet ending to what turned out to be a pretty sweet journey. Then again, I also didn't have to look for pumas on my way to the toilet after all that liquid.

The final Lemon Chicken with rice and vegetables tasted like a victory with a dash of lemon.

At the end of the day, I'm glad I did the Lares Trek, and on a good day, I can almost be proud of crawling to the top. It's the kind of experience I will always remember, and the kind of experience I can’t forget. The fertile valleys are forever in my memory, a painted spot on the canvas of my life. And I'll always reflect on it fondly, but it’ll be a cold day in Cuzco before I go through that again.