Qoyllur Rit’i - Part 2
After that painfully cold and uncomfortable ride through the night, we arrived in the town of Mahuayani where the pilgrimage to Qoyllur Rit’i begins. The small town turns into a bustling place of commerce almost overnight as thousands of pilgrims arrive and stock up on items before they begin their journey.
We arrived just before dawn and other than the odd cat nap, I had been awake for about 24 hours. The plan was to hire a horse to carry some of our gear and commence the journey. I was going to carry my photo equipment and then I could place another bag with the other items and extra photo gear on the horse. The problem was, there were no horses available, and the group wanted to get started. As a result, I had to begin the hike with two large packs.
The first part of the trek is a rather respectable climb out of the valley at approximately 4000m (13,000 ft) where the lack of oxygen makes the climbing all the more difficult. It is more difficult than you might imagine and I could not keep up with the group. I also could not take photos as my hands were occupied and it took everything I had to keep up. I was failing at both. All my energy was going into trying to support the weight I was carrying and putting one foot in front of the other. I was getting really worried.
My concern only grew when a bad omen and sad incident took place shortly after we began. (WARNING: SAD STORY REGARDING ANIMAL WELFARE. SKIP TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH IF NEEDED.) The path is relatively narrow in that first, steep section and there are hordes of people and horses going in both directions. There is a steep drop-off below. Sadly, one of the pack horses had fallen into the ravine and died in the night. It lay there in the creek bottom for all the passersby to see. It was heart-wrenching.
With an already heavy load on my back and now a heaviness in my head and heart, I continued the slog and trailed behind the group. There were many stations on the route where the pilgrims stopped to pray. Thankfully that gave me some time to catch up and snap a few quick photos before laboring onward.
After playing this grueling game of cat and mouse with the group for the first couple of hours, a few members of the group took pity on me and relieved me of my second bag. Although I was embarrassed and didn’t want to be a burden, I am so incredibly grateful for that help. I was not sure I was going to make it and I definitely wasn’t going to get the photos I needed at the rate I was going. They carried it for me the remainder of the way.
The caravan of young and old, firm and lame, rolled on with the soft, middle-aged gringo in tow. There were many stops made at the shrines along the way where respect was paid to the ancient and modern deities. Lining the path were vendors selling everything from coca leaves, chicha (the traditional fermented corn drink), and llama fetuses, to Coca-Cola, crucifixes & Señor Qoyllur Rit’i statues. The syncretic mix of old and new beliefs and ways was well on display.
After about a seven-hour march, we finally arrived in the early afternoon at the high-elevation valley which is transformed into a temporary town with tens of thousands of pilgrims. There were even more pilgrims than normal this year, as COVID restrictions have prevented many from attending the past few years. The temporary town is bustling with music and dance that never ceases.
After a hearty bowl of soup, it was time to find a bare patch of hopefully level and soft ground to lay claim to for the next few days. It seemed that every square inch was being used for sleeping in the most unexpected and unenjoyable places. It was a relief to get out of the intense, high-elevation sun and rest for a few minutes, but there was work to be done, so I set out to explore with my camera.
It was so vast that it was difficult to photograph. I was asking myself ‘What do I focus on?’ It was quite overwhelming, especially in my fatigued state after the trek and being awake for the better part of two days at that point. That first afternoon and evening, I decided that I would just try to take it in and get a sense of what it was all about.
The musicians and dancers performed the various styles and traditions of Inca and Spanish songs and dances that tell the stories of the different people and places. Thousands lined up to visit the church and to pray, while makeshift kitchens fed the armies of pilgrims. It never stopped. Literally.
The next two days I was told were to be the most important part of the festival. I decided to get some rest and recover so that I could better document things the next day. I slept when I could in between the pounding of drums and thumping of dance that surrounds me at all times. It was strangely soothing in my fatigued state.
Standby for part three in the coming days…
MB