Like many of life's great adventures, our trek into Peru's Colca Canyon was born not of careful planning but from a spontaneous impulse.

It was our first day in Cabanaconde, a small town nestled in a chasm deeper than the Grand Canyon in southern Peru's Arequipa region. My boyfriend and I had blocked off several days of our two-month South American backpacking trip to explore the area. We'd just returned from a short day hike and were sipping a cold Arequipena beer at our bed-and-breakfast while admiring the lush expanse of the canyon.

That's when I saw it. Far off in the distance, a small white waterfall stood out against the wall of green. Alex and I looked at each other, both struck by the adventure itch. We weren't leaving until we'd seen that waterfall up close.

As it turned out, the white blip that we'd set our sights on was the Huaruro waterfall, a 250-foot behemoth accessible from the small village of Fure on the opposite side of the canyon.

Though Alex and I pride ourselves on being active, outdoorsy people, we're far from expert mountaineers. This was unfamiliar territory, so we hired a guide named Rosas to lead us on our adventure.

The night before our trek, Rosas, a 5-foot-tall Quechua man, came to our hotel to brief us on our trip. Starting at 7:30 the next morning, he said in Spanish as I translated for Alex, we would hike from Cabanaconde down to the bottom of the canyon, a descent of approximately 3,300 feet. We'd cross the Colca River, have lunch in the town of Llahuar, hike up about 1,800 feet to the town of Llatica and then continue up another 1,600 feet to Fure, where we would sleep that first night.


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The next day, we'd set out for the waterfall and then hike back down the canyon to the Sangalle oasis, where we'd spend the night. Then, early in the morning of the third day, we'd leave the oasis to hike up another 3,300 feet back to Cabanaconde and civilization.

It was a route that Rosas didn't do often, but for the three days of guiding, he charged us only about $50 (lodging and food for the three of us averaged an additional $25 per night).

In Peru, guide Rosas peels an indigenous spiked cactus fruit, called tuna, to reveal its juicy flesh.
In Peru, guide Rosas peels an indigenous spiked cactus fruit, called tuna, to reveal its juicy flesh. (Jess Righthand, The Washington Post)

It seemed ambitious. Fortunately, we had no real idea of what we were in for.

Setting out early

The next morning, we awoke at 6 and ate breakfast. Rosas came to our hotel to meet us at around 7:30. We walked through the town of Cabanaconde, passing an empty bullfighting ring and the goal of a now-defunct soccer stadium. From there, we started the descent into the canyon.

Almost immediately, Rosas started pointing out all kinds of indigenous herbs and fruits. A plethora of plants with a variety of uses grow in the canyon: muna for indigestion, cactus fruit for asthma and jatupa for insecticide, for starters. The canyon also hosts an incredible bounty of fruit. Peaches, apples, papaya, several different types of squash, lucuma, corn, mango and figs all flourish there.

With five hours of descent under our belts, we crossed the rushing Colca River and arrived at Llahuar, a small settlement consisting of two guesthouses, where we ate a lunch of trout, soup and rice overlooking the convergence of the Colca and Huaruro rivers.

After lunch, we ascended to the town of Llatica, a sleepy place with a rundown church. At the end of the first uphill leg of our trip, I was inordinately winded. I maintain that this was due to the altitude (about 12,000 feet), not the fact that I was, well, a bit out of shape. Regardless, I was sucking wind. So Rosas took us to Llatica on an alternate path, along a concrete-lined canal on the side of the mountain. At one point, I was so focused on where to step that I walked straight into a rock overhang and banged my forehead. It would have been a long drop down.

Once we reached Llatica, we rested and snacked on pichang, a fruit Rosas had foraged for us. Pichang might just be the strangest fruit I've ever tasted. To eat it, you suck gummy banana-flavored goo from around the seeds and then spit them out.

That's when things started to get interesting. We'd barely started along the path from Llatica to Fure when we ran into an older Peruvian couple bearing bad news. The path to Fure had been blocked by a rockslide. Specifically, the older woman said that I wouldn't be able to cross the affected path, which was now apparently a heaping pile of boulders. Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence! The couple urged us to take a different trail, one that went almost to the top of the mountain and then descended to Fure.

The Huaruro waterfall runs near a lush meadow outside the small settlement of Fure in Peru’s Colca Canyon.
The Huaruro waterfall runs near a lush meadow outside the small settlement of Fure in Peru's Colca Canyon. (Jess Righthand, The Washington Post)

I, of course, was wary of this option, considering the dire state of my lungs. But if we reached the rockslide and couldn't get around it, we'd have to return all the way to Llatica in the dark for the night. It was already around 3:30 in the afternoon, and we'd been hiking for eight hours.

Moving into the unknown

Farther down the trail, Rosas encountered a fellow from Fure, who seemed more confident about our chances with the rockslide. The catch, though, was that we'd have to rock-climb up a 20-foot chasm in the mountain.

Alex was excited to use the rock-climbing skills he'd been cultivating over the past year, but I had none to speak of.

Rosas seemed confident that we could make the climb with the help of our new friend, so we set off to try our luck. But by then, my legs were shot. Any ascent, no matter how small, proved increasingly difficult, and Fure was still a substantial distance away.

By the time we got to the slide, I was running on fumes. The path ended and in its place stood a substantial rock face, which there was now no choice but to climb. On either side of the rockslide, the mountain shot straight up and dropped straight down, so there would be no walking around the boulders, which were so large and so steadfast that I would have guessed they'd been that way for years. Fortunately, a crack about five inches wide had opened up between them, hinting at a route up the face.

Our new friend took my backpack up with him, and Rosas followed behind. Both he and Alex coached me on where to place my hands and feet. I made a couple of moves, but about two-thirds of the way up, I got stuck. For nearly a minute, I balanced on one toe on the crack in the rock, using three fingers to grip the rock above my head. I held myself there, paralyzed, unsure whether my next move would hoist me up or land me with a broken leg.

With one big heave that involved placing my other foot on the rock above my hip and hoisting myself up, I cleared the worst of the climb. From there, just two more moves took me to the top. Rosas helped me up at the end, and Alex scrambled up quickly behind me. Triumph was ours, and our endorphins pumped pure elation.

Next stop, the waterfall

We picked up the trail again on the other side of the rockslide, and from there, we crossed a rickety bridge to Fure, where we were shown to our room for the night: a mud hut with four walls, a dirt floor and a mattress propped up on bamboo and logs.

After a wash in the town's natural spring and a dinner of soup, squash puree and white rice, we went to bed until 6 a.m., when we set out for our ultimate destination, the Huaruro waterfall.

After a relatively mild hour-and-a-half hike that included fording two rivers, we approached the waterfall.

Huaruro wasn't the largest or tallest waterfall I'd ever seen. But that didn't matter. With this secluded fall that we'd glimpsed from our hotel in Cabanaconde towering above us, it felt as if we'd just discovered our own secret wilderness.

Then we hiked back to Fure for some pancakes before beginning the day's trek down to the Sangalle oasis, where freshwater pools and a tropical climate awaited us. The hike was mostly downhill and luckily drama-free.

Our hostel owner showed us to a half-stone, half-bamboo hut, sans lighting. This hostel was teeming with freakishly large wood bees and other unsavory insects, and our room was full of holes for them to fly or crawl into.

Rosas cooked us dinner, a basic but hearty soup and spaghetti that Alex gobbled up. I, on the other hand, lost my appetite after having to pick mosquitoes and gnats out of my food before each bite.

After making plans to get up early the next morning for the final 3,300-foot ascent to Cabanaconde, we retired to our hut to pack and sleep.

At the sound of my iPhone alarm, we bolted out of bed, checked our boots for bugs (all clear) and dressed feverishly in the dark. Armed with headlamps and flashlights , we powered up the side of the canyon. We hiked along rocky switchbacks, three hours and 15 minutes later, we arrived at the top to sweeping views of everywhere we'd just been. We'd made it to the other side of the canyon and back.

After three days of hiking, we'd worked up quite an appetite, so we brought Rosas to our hotel and treated him and another hiker whom we'd befriended along the way to breakfast.

As we ate, we gazed out at the Huaruro waterfall, once again just a tiny white speck in the green canyon. We were totally exhausted and in desperate need of a hot shower. But we'd accomplished our goal of meeting the waterfall face to face — and even managed to surprise ourselves along the way.


Colca Canyon insider's guide

Get there: Several airlines offer connecting flights from Denver International Airport (DEN) to Rodríguez Ballón International Airport (AQP) Arequipa, Peru, starting at $1,387. Check American, United and LAN. From Arequipa, you can take a local bus to Cabanaconde for approximately $6.

Stay and dine: Hotel Kuntur Wassi, Calle Cruz Blanca, Cabanaconde, 011-51-54-696665, arequipacolca.com. Well-appointed rooms with Internet, helpful staff, sprawling views and a full-service bar and restaurant with excellent traditional Peruvian fare. Rooms from about $60 and entrees from about $10.

Villa Pastor, Plaza de Armas, Cabanaconde, 011-51-54-241176. villapastorcolca.com. Basic shared dorms and private rooms starting at about $6 on Cabanaconde's main town square. Also houses a restaurant and bar, with happy hour and entrees for $4 to $8.

Paraíso Las Palmeras, Sangalle oasis, Colca Canyon, 011-51-959742637, 011-51-958958162 or 011-51-958958164. In the Sangalle oasis at the bottom of the canyon, this hostel offers camping for about $2, or private rooms starting at about $4. The hostel includes a swimming pool, hammocks, cocktails and basic backpacker food. (Note: This is not the hostel we stayed at.)

Hike: Local hiking guides can be procured through most hotels in Cabanaconde. Prices start at about $20 per day.

More info: cabanacondeperu.com 

Jess Righthand