Phinaya - Chaku de Vicuñas

Apu Ausangate

I found myself not writing updates on the project over the past several months after getting behind. There was an overwhelming amount to catch up on, and I felt lost on how to begin. Therefore, to overcome this impasse, I will begin from the current state of affairs, right here and right now.

This past week I travelled to the community of Phinaya, which is the 12th highest settlement in the world. Situated at an elevation of 4,700m (15,400ft) not even potatoes can grow here. The approximately 350 people living in the ayllu (community) and surrounding area rely on herding alpacas and llamas. The valuable wool of their animals is sold and traded for essential items from the lower elevations They are also an essential food source.

Vicuñas

There is another species of camelid that resides in the Peruvian Andes known as vicuñas. They are a cousin of the llamas and alpacas. Vicuñas however, are wild as they do not take to being domesticated. I can’t be sure, but this might just be why they are my favourite of the camelids and I see a kindred spirit in them :)

Alpacas in their pen

The vicuñas are a beautiful and graceful animal, and it is here where we differ.  Their wool is extremely soft, warm, and valuable, and  therefore, highly sought after. This has been the case since pre-Colombian times and why they were sacred to the Incas. As a result, every year, mountain ayllus (communities) gather for a remarkable tradition called "Chaku de Vicuñas" - a Quechua phrase meaning "Capture of Vicuñas" or "Hunt Without Killing." This vibrant gathering unites members of the ayllu—the Quechua word for "community"—in the breathtaking high-altitude landscapes where these elegant animals freely roam and graze.

Llamas as sunrise

This is an important part of the culture for these high-elevation ayllus and demonstrates the collective mentality of the people. For this reason, it is also an important part of this project. Last year, I tried to make it to the festivity, but my poor planning led to failure—I didn't budget enough travel time and ended up with our truck hopelessly mired in mud, and let me tell you, digging it out of the mud at 5,000m (16,500ft) is no easy task.

Stuck in the mud last year

It was crucial for me to attend the event this year, so I began making preparations weeks in advance. It is a remote community and somewhat challenging to access. My first three attempts to plan the trip never materialized. The fourth attempt collapsed the day before I was set to leave, when when my friend Guido had to cancel. His father had crashed the family car, and to make matters worse, Guido was bitten on the foot by a dog, requiring medical attention.

I scrambled to put something together last minute, and thankfully, with Guido’s assistance, I secured a ride to Phinaya with a family departing from Sicuani at 1am—which meant catching the final bus from Cusco at 7pm for the three-hour journey. I spent the remaining hours trying to stay warm while waiting for my connection. Eventually, we all squeezed into the vehicle for the trek to Phinaya. Throughout the night, I shared coca leaves with my fellow travelers, chewing them continuously to combat the effects of high altitude.

Gathering and keeping warm before commencing

We reached Phinaya just before 5am, the darkness still enveloping the landscape. The ayllu members had already assembled and began their journey as the first faint light broke the horizon shortly before 5:30am. I barely had time to make my introductions, quickly savor a steaming cup of kwicha (a quinoa porridge drink) with a piece of bread, before setting down my bag and beginning the ascent in search of the vicuñas.

After 24 hours without sleep and no time to adjust to the high altitude, my body was in full revolt. Each step became an exhausting challenge as my heart hammered against my ribs, my head throbbed with pain, and waves of nausea crashed over me alongside crushing fatigue. And this was just my condition before reaching the starting point where everyone else had already assembled

Prayers for a safe and successful chaku

As the assembled members huddled against the cold, ayllu leaders delivered speeches and offered a prayer for a safe, successful chaku. I used this moment to catch my breath and calm my racing heart. Being the only outsider present, I stood out clearly. The community regarded this gringo with curious glances, wondering about my presence. Their initial wariness melted away as I moved through the group, introducing myself and sharing coca leaves according to tradition—a simple gesture that connected us to one another and to the land we stood upon.

The chaku commences

As the community members split into organized groups with specific roles and locations, I followed along to observe. Teams of two people each carried ropes decorated with vibrant flags, which they would use to create boundaries while moving across the landscape in a coordinated sweep to gather the vicuñas. While some traditional herders guided the operation on horseback, others embraced modern methods, racing across the terrain on dirt bikes to skillfully direct the elegant camelids toward the waiting corral.

On the chaku with child

The Phinaya community members began the challenging vicuña roundup at an elevation of 4,800m (15,750ft) on the hillside outside the ayllu. From there, they herded these swift animals for kilometers across the landscape, driving them toward specially designed funnel-shaped nets at the mountain's base. By the time they reached the destination, we had climbed to a breathtaking 5,400m (17,700ft). I struggled to keep pace while documenting this rapid-fire event—vicuñas wait for no one, especially not a winded foreigner. Most remarkable were the women, whose endurance and power left me in awe. They effortlessly carried food, beverages, animals, and even children on their backs throughout this grueling work, while I simply couldn't match their relentless pace.

By the time I reached them, the vicuñas were already secured in the pen while the group took their well-deserved break. They erupted in good-natured laughter at the sight of me—the winded gringo arriving last, mouth agape and gasping for air. I grinned, joined in their laughter, and settled among them to share in their rest and refreshments before we tackled the remaining work ahead. 

Vicuñas on the run

Over the next few hours, they sheared the healthy, selected vicuñas, carefully prepared and weighed their valuable wool, then released the animals back to the wild. When the work concluded, the community shared beer and food to celebrate their successful chaku (traditional roundup), made sacred offerings to Pachamama (Mother Earth) in gratitude, and finally made the trek across the expansive high plains toward home.

I extended my visit by a few days to connect with some of the ayllu members and truly understand this remarkable place. Next month, I'll be back with a team of professors and scientists who are researching the vital glaciers surrounding the community. Their work examines how climate change and the dramatic retreat of these ice formations are transforming both the daily lives and cultural traditions of the people who depend on them. But that fascinating story will have to wait for another time.

I'll gradually share more details about previous developments as time permits. Thank you for being part of this journey with me—please don't hesitate to comment or send me a message about this or any other aspect of the project that piques your interest.

All the best,

MB

Released back to the wild