Rainbow Mountain: The Struggle to Hike to 17,000+ Feet Above Sea Level
I had been wanting to go to Rainbow Mountain for awhile, ever since I saw it on a “Most Colorful Places in the World” article a couple years ago. So when I was living in Peru I figured I’d find a way to make it up there. It was the ultimate Instagram versus reality moment in so many ways. After having seen so many gorgeous images online, the reality turned out to be a lot different than I could have ever expected.
It was frankly a bit of a suicide mission from the get go, but Gillian gamely agreed to embark upon it with me during her visit. We were going to fly into Cusco late in the evening, wake up at 4am, drive several hours towards the base of the mountain, hop onto ATVs for another hour through the rugged valleys surrounding it, then hike another 45 minutes to the top...All of this at around 17,000 feet above sea level.
Now if you’ve never been to high altitudes before, let me explain something to you—the oxygen is significantly thinner up there. As a result of less oxygen, your body is put under stress and you’ll get anything from headaches, nausea, to shortness of breath, and dizziness.
But at this point I’d been to Cusco (11,000 feet) twice and I was fine both times. I guess I’d gotten a little cocky. So I took all the precautions (see my post on preventing altitude sickness) and stocked up with water and portable oxygen canisters. However, I was also battling a head cold, and I think that made a significant difference the third time around because I got so sick.
After a tumultuous morning during which one of our group had to be rushed back to a hospital after her ATV flipped on her (she’s okay now thank god, love you Khyati), we finally made it to the final stretch, the hike.
I struggled the entire time, but I was determined to make it. I would take a few steps up, then stop to catch my breath, then take a few more steps, and stop for a shot of oxygen from the canister. It’s like trying to climb 40 flights of stairs with a plastic bag over your head limiting all your oxygen supply. It’s brutal.
I kept repeating this quote to myself that I’d heard time and again: “It does not matter how slow you go as long as you do not stop.” I tried to ignore how far ahead the rest of the group was and just focused as best as I could on my own body and on putting one foot in front of the other.
After what seemed like hours, I could see the summit. It was packed with people, it had begun heavily snowing/sleeting, the fog was so dense I could barely look up, but I just kept pushing forward. At this point, I was with Vic and Gillian, and we were all somewhere between laughing and crying as we assessed the absurdity of where we were.
Because even though almost nothing went according to plan that day—even though I thought I might pass out from lack of air, even though I didn’t technically make it to the topmost viewpoint that you see in most photos, even though the weather was awful and my photos were kind of horrible, even though it was muddy and slippery and packed with too many people—I was just proud that I made it up there. And I’m so grateful that I was able to do so with some of my favorite people in the world and that we could share that ridiculous day together. It was definitely one for the books.
