We woke up to a cloudless sky, but the snow had frozen and the landscape had a distinct wintery feel to it in the pre-dawn light. However, the sun soon emerged above the mountains to the east, melting all in its path. As we sat outside eating our breakfast in the warm morning sun under the curious gaze of a young Andean girl, small mountain mice scampered between the pinkish granite rocks; it seemed that the day would be perfect.

With Yamil and Lydia leading the way, we set off once again, skirting the rocky hillside to enter a second flat boggy valley, the Pampa Jatunpata. The alpacas were already out grazing as we strolled around the edge of the marshy flats before crossing their upper reaches for our first climb of the day. Below us, an alpaca-herder was leading her animals across the icy river for the day's grazing.

Climbing up alongside a small waterfall and the rushing mountain stream of Rio Jampamayo, between darkly-silhouetted rocky peaks, we reached a second long marshy plain; we were in the Q'ampa community lands and it felt good to be walking on relatively flat terrain at this altitude.

We headed northwards toward the impressive profile of the 6090m Picos Tres Marias at the head of the valley, passing a flock of Andean ducks enjoying a morning swim in the wetlands and stopping briefly to have a snack next to a rocky outcrop where vizcachas scampered amongst the boulders. Across the green plain lay the stone huts and corrals of Q'ampa, the hills behind still partly covered in snow from the previous night.

From here the real climb began, gently at first, following alpaca tracks up through the well-grazed and well-fertilised slopes, ever closer to Pico Tres Marias and the snow-covered glacier in the saddle between it and Nevado Collaque Cruz. A cold wind began to blow as we gained altitude and it was time to don warmer gear. Dark clouds also began spilling over the white peaks of Ausangate and Collaque Cruz, giving the landscape a cold and menacing appearance.

Vicuñas watching us very very carefully

The track now turned westward and climbed more steeply toward the 5650m icy peak of Puca Punta. Far below we could see Laguna Ticclacocha at the base of a gravel-covered glacier beneath the peak. It was here that Yamil spotted the first vicuña high above us.

As we trudged on, views opened up below us of the long glacier descending the eastern side of Campo Pass; a jumble of clear white ice and snow at the top, transforming to an amorphous mass covered in grey gravel at the bottom. We passed 5000m for the second time on the trek. I was feeling stronger and the fair Nello was struggling a bit, the reverse of our first 5000m pass; it is curious how and when altitude affects you. Our attention was distracted by a call from Silverio; he had spotted a family of seven vicuñas a little way up the slope from us. We were lucky to be able to sit and watch these graceful animals, so rare in this part of the Andes.

Some of the many apachetas on Campa Pass

Ausangate showing its bleak side

 

Reaching a crest, we were about to celebrate, only to realise it was a false pass; ahead lay a long slightly upwards traverse across a jumble of pink rocks and gravel high above the glacier, dotted with rock gardens of cushion plants and forbs. Finally, a cluster of apachetas signalled the true top of Campo Pass at 5077m.

It was time for a rest in the shelter of one of the larger stone cairns to take in the view of glaciers dropping down on both sides of the pass. Soon the menace of the dark clouds materialised and tiny balls of sago snow began to fall.

It was definitely time to start the descent - firstly, traversing a steep and loose scree slope high above the second glacier on the western side of Campo Pass, then descending steeply across the dry, rocky northern slope of Ausangate. In the light snow, the peaks above us showed a very different mood of the mountain.

Glacier on the west side of Campa Pass

Descent into the snow

After a long descent, the waters of Laguna Caycocha appeared, framed by arid red-walled hills and the steep dark western wall of Nevado Puca Punta. We pressed on through the rocky landscape, descending past a set of small tarns where caracaras feasted on the remains of a dead alpaca, to reach a point overlooking the turquoise waters of Laguna Pucacocha (you may have noticed this name crop up several times - pucacocha means green lake in quechua and many lakes in the mountains have this name).

The snow was now getting heavier and the landscape taking on a distinct wintery appearance. Down on the grassy flat near the lake, we could see Silverio and Cecilio setting up the tents and hurried down the last steep rocky pinch to crawl into our sleeping bags and listen to the soft patter of sago snow on the tent. Then it was time for a late lunch - it was much better to eat at 3.45pm in our dining tent then three hours earlier on the cold and windy heights of Campo Pass.

Channels draining the wetlands above Pucacocha

Looking back up the valley to Nevado Santa Catalina

We set off on the last day of our walk for a morning of reflection; reflections of mountains in the still waters of alpine lakes that is. Barely ten minutes out, we reached the the still green waters of the first small lake of the day reflecting the low frosty hills behind. Skirting its shore to the other side, we could look back on the reflections of the snow-covered peaks above the Campo Pass.

Descending slightly from this alpine jewel, we arrived at the small, but very deep Laguna Uhurungococha, its rock walls slowly disappearing into the depths of the dark blue water. From its southern end, we stopped to admire once again the reflections of the glaciers of Ausangate.

Our pace quickening once we left the region of beautiful lakes, though the superb snow-covered ridge of Ccallangate and Collaque Cruz to the east still reminded us where we were. Soon we crossed the braids of the river on a couple of stone bridges and descending beside it toward the stone huts of Quecmojo, last of the isolated villages.