Peru

One Hour Plan Ride To Huarez, $94.
8 Hour Bus Ride, $30 +/-.

Huarez.
Lodge is 1/8" East.

The Way Inn

Huarez, Peru. Looking West to the Cordillera Negra Range.

Peru spreads up the Pacific, desert side, and down the other, humid Amazon side of the mighty Andes Mountain Range. There are actually two ranges, the white and the black, running parallel, the Cordillera Blanca, and the Cordillera Negra. In the middle of them is a valley. And in the middle of this valley, at about 11,000 feet above sea level, is Huarez, a town of about 97,000 people, that is what a local commercial and mining center must be to endure. It is also the annual gathering spot for thousands of trekkers from across the globe. During the tourist, summer, season it is comfortably warm and dry here. During my winter visit tourists were few, it reached the 30's c. in some evenings, sometimes the 70's during the day, and rain brought me chills most every day.

Road from Huarez to The Way Inn

Leaving Huarez, Headed East and Up

The Highway Thru Eucalyptus Woods

Terraced Farmland Worked By Chechua Campasinos

The Way Inn

"Alex built this whole place!"

Bruni is a beautiful young English woman, raised in an experimental spiritual community in India, somehow recovered nicely from that, and is now camped out at about 12,000 feet in the Cordillera Blanca Mountains of Peru. There she raises her now 3.5 year old son Tristan. I could leave the story at this. For there is much suggestion here, and enuf open ends that the story will linger a bit in your mind, and leave you wondering, as always happens when you meet, for too short a time, a beautiful person.

"No. He had no architectural training at all before taking this on."

Third Window on the Left Was My Room

But there is too much promise in this story. I must unfold it a bit further, and yet I know enuf remains beyond what I learned, that still you will be left wondering, as you should when something mysterious comes by. About 1000 feet up the Cordillera Blanca mountain side, above the city of Huarez that now has most of its buildings rebuilt from the wipe out brought to it by the 1970 Earthquake, there sits a stunningly artful assemblage of mortared alluvium debris, formatted by smooth and darkened spans and posts of the ubiquitous Eucalyptus. The thatch capping off these adobe and plaster sided shelters was not the least expensive way to reject the rain. But it certainly met the standards of some artist with a clear premonition of what was needed to tie this experiment into the flora that snuggles up around the footings sitting solid in this almost silent niche.

"Yes, we had a lot of help from local workers and craftsmen. But Alex designed and directed the whole construction."

Somewhere Way Up There is a Lake, a Glacier, and the Tallest Mountain in South America

The birds are few here, and when they chirp it is seldom when two leggeds are around. The water arrives almost daily in the winter, heavy clouds pour down the mountains, funneled toward those watching, by the steep crevices between the snow covered spires that hide themselves near heavens door for most of every day. There is no thunder, no jarring lightening, not even ripping winds. This is the land of quiet. The birds are quiet, the rain is quiet, the huge boulders washed down from some terrible moment long ago sit certainly as quiet as they now must. Only a distant rooster, for a small moment in the morning, intrudes, or a Chechua native hails a trekker with a call to connect, "Hola, como esta?", or a young Campasina and her companion giggle as they try to learn what the Gringo knows about flat platters and throwing them unbelievable long distances. The fabric is silence, and sound only an artful speck, here and there.

"You'll notice the efficiencies learned over time, like the walls of the later buildings, are not rock and mortar all the way to the roof line anymore. Adobe bricks above the footing line are easier to work with, less expensive, and do the job excellently....as they have for people here for a very long time."

First the Alluvial Flow Dumped Out Of The Mountains. Then a Few Years Ago a Stream Cut A Ditch Down The Middle Creating This Ridge Separate From That One.

There is a hand painted topographic map of the territory surrounding this not to be expected retreat, on the smooth wall of the gathering rooms here. You can find a path to take from here to the glacial lakes, or a peak as high as they go in South America, all treks that should you be on one when the mountains next shudder, will leave you as obvious as the boulders buried 500 feet below the alluvial flow you now stand upon. Quiet roams here so noticeable, because the mountains require you know how small, weak, and forgettable you are.

"After 9 years, we grew in different directions, and have now passed the terrible two year transition into our mostly separate lives. "

So when the Canadian, recently successful in his efforts to earn a science degree, reports he will return to study ways he can reduce suffering for his countrymen, you know the mountains have spoken to him, and you are not surprised. When the young lady from arid Arizona, Analee, sits in the rain after lunch and mentions her longings to pour some kind of goodness onto souls she will touch as her time unfolds, you hear the mountains speaking in her. She shares the matrimonial suite with her Peruvian friend, Isaac, and you don't hardly notice he speaks so little English, because his spirit, unencumbered by the conventions of lower climes, shines thru and reminds you there is only one kind of people here, people subject to the mountain, and willing to give up breathing to be here.

"Alex. He's in the Amazon now, building a new lodge. Yes, I suppose you could say, putting his genius to work again, in a new place."

Tristan, Bruni, and the Orange Flowers

I don't mean to suggest anyone here wishes for death. So much more the opposite. Bruni has given life to 3.5 year old Tristan, right here in the mountains, straight from her own body, and nothing, like for all mothers of the light, means more to her than this thriving mystery before her.

This is Where I Slipped on a Rock and Didn't Die.

I walk the 2 hour rocky crest to its climax at the base of an ancient damn that somehow keeps the torrents back, back from tearing down the valley and obliterating all of us from here to the other side of Huarez. I have my own quaking going on, and the quickening it brings to the fore is the reward I long for most. I return toward the lodge, feeling gravity pull me downwards towards my temporary home, and revel in my silly little success. I live!

"Sad? Yes but for only a few days. Then Tristan was back into his curious, expressive self. He is doing very well, wouldn't you say?"

Lost on a path somewhere, an elderly gentleman from L.A. Is dropped off by some locals, knowing this place will suffice for shelter for him until he, as all of us here hope for our own self, finds his way again. I don't want to hear about the hidden cities he is seeking, nor extra terrestrials, and no I am not secretly one of those who really does know where these survival enclaves are hidden. And still he is here, on the mountain, seeking, walking, wondering, longing for completion and a haven from his demons, more like all the rest of us, than not.

"The balconies? Yes, and the stairways, the ridgepoles, the roof systems, the footings, even the trout pond there in front of us.... He designed and built them all. Neither of us know how he did this...but look how perfect it all is. Cool, huh?!"

Bruni takes me across a little crest, closer to the downhill edge of her 14 acres, in search of 8 little screws I need to secure a loose latch, on the door, leading to the exposed north facing balcony, in the main lodge. We drop down a short ways and arrive at the latest new structure being coaxed into shape from Eucalyptus beams, mud and straw bricks made on site, mortared glacier rounded rock, and the local craftsmen touches that show up in the handmade window frames each with one of a kind forged and hammered hinges and latches.

"We put our first tent up right there in that clearing. Nothing but a tent, an idea, enuf money to get it started, and inner resources that were only then known to us as "intention"."

I'm a healthy man, and the fine feminine form leading me on this search for a screw, challenges me often to ignore this pun, and to the disappointment of the vestigial young man I carry with me I am terribly successful. She earlier shared that she had traversed the gauntlet of youthful sexuality, enduring, enjoying, fearing, and to an unusually great degree for her age, passed into a way of being with it all that I saw as having little space of suffering left, and a great deal of honest, healthy, acceptance. She spoke to me once of her dream that somehow people, people who needed it, passing thru her life would exit with their sexuality healed. I was not convinced this was her calling, or her gift, but I knew without a trace of doubt, that anyone sharing time with her would in some way be healed. That she would always be unable to keep from those around her.

"He and his brother are from Australia. His brother has built a lodge also, a couple valleys to the north from here. I hear it too is beautiful. Did you meet his brother in Huarez? He has that huge Russian Razor Back dog?"

Gold Mines on the Side of Cordillera Negra.

As with each step I shared with her, we found what we were looking for. And in the short trek, I saw the second story room that would one day be finished and provide a balcony space looking a 1000 feet down on little Huarez, and a couple miles across to the sister peaks of the Cordillera Negra. Those peaks, thankfully were often obscured by the seasonal clouds and the huge gashes across several of their tops, providing ore to the latest invaders, only extended their assault to my eyes and heart a few times while I otherwise healed with Bruni.

"We bought this land here. His brother made a deal to build on community land. I am creating my relationship with the locals here, from my own base. He has more difficulty. He has to continue to balance the community's sense of whether he is meeting his promises, and with a community of a couple hundred there is not always agreement about this."

In this structure were rooms for her staff. She had brought in two professional gourmet chefs to train her staff, and now had three highly trained local men, who, she reported with pleasure in her heart, could move on at any time to positions elsewhere with very lucrative skills. Shouldn't she feel more possessive about what she had created I wondered quietly? I hadn't really understood her yet. Soon I did. There was another room that would be her private dwelling soon, and next to that was Tristan's future room. He, of course, preferred to sleep with Mom, and I saw mom was in no rush to grow him up, as she admitted his room would for the foreseeable future be the classroom. A teacher would be put on staff for morning lessons for Tristan, and in the afternoon local children would be invited to join him for, I suspect his social skill growth, but from her I learned it was for what she could offer to be a value to her neighbors. She did not see what was most obvious to me, her centered and naturally caring presence was already a gift.

"I don't know. But when he does return, I have a long list of things best left for his genius to attend to. We still share ownership here. And as you see, many things are not yet complete. Some of it will get done by volunteers who I barter accommodations and food with. But some really needs Alex's attention."

Bruni had a tossled set of blond curls that in another setting would have fitted her form perfectly for performance, modeling, or otherwise making money from a more shallow perspective. Out here though, it spoke of a wildness that was in a constant dance everywhere with solitude and stillness. She walked across the volley ball court so erect I wondered how she moved forward. And then she would suddenly turn around, catch my eye, and hold me there. I am accustomed to intimacy and was, rather than troubled by her reaching into me, felt blessed to be met by another soul who knew the secret of sharing Namaste informally and naturally. Yes the majesty and quiet and even the threat of the mountains was a blessing,but to encounter a young being, who knew how to be naked that deep, and not fearful, was, I constantly have to relearn, just what I always am in search of. I did not need God, nor I think would anyone, when those moments are present.

"Yes I know how you feel. Shaving off the door might let if fit easier, but its in some way like cutting into part of Alex, and maybe when he returns he can just reset the hinge or something."

I Returned Each Evening to the Portal Just Past The Yellow Flowers.
Nice Way To Find My Room.

Miguel met me when the taxi driver who had charged me double the going rate delivered me to the lodge. I am 6.3", and Miguel was close to two feet shorter. I only now recall this, because the unrestrained light in his smile immediately spoke to me of how small my joy was, while also showing me where to grow. I was embarrassed at how I loved him immediately. I still do not understand this. And past that moment it never bothered me again...it was how it was here, people with open hearts, expecting the same from others. And soon I was not even aware my fears had lost a place to attach to me. Miguel showed me the lower bunk house, snuggled into the steep terrace, looking out to the sister ridge of alluvial mass, and washed with the sound of the tiny stream passing below. The tour next took me to the long structure with a shared quartet of always hot showers, and a similar quartet of tiny clean bathrooms. I passed on the bunk house room, and elected a private double bed with a 4 inch down comforter and a 6 foot window looking out at mountains, ridges, valleys, and terraces that Campasinos could only work with some kind of Andean magic. He left me to settle in, and this I did.

I spent two nights here. The first afternoon I took the 2 hour trek across the crest, fell down once so far away from anyone that had I gotten hurt, odds are good no one would have found me. On the surface that was fine with me, but my brain stem noticed, and until I returned to the Lodge I remained discomfortingly aware of how fragile my life is. I played some Frisbee with Analee and Isaac, and later with the two small local girls so full of shy smiles. The youngest never did get the wrist thing. Then a bit after 4p, when the fire was raging nicely inside the huge barrel attached to the side, I entered the sauna. I was now one of 4 two leggeds, and a delightfully affectionate puppy, testing our limits for dry heat, and hopefully doing something good for our bodies. There was room for another 4 or 5, but no other adventurers arrived. The glass plate designed to permit viewing of the sky above had cracked and was temporarily replaced by some corrugated plastic, and since it was raining outside anyway, nothing was lost. Finally I was warm on the outside too.

"Here's the list. See, climbing shoes, ropes, tents.... You can rent just about anything you need here. Alex and I did a lot of trekking before settling in here. We know what's needed. If you're going into the Mountains, this is The Way Inn."

Dinner was together at the large table in the lodge. The generator, on from about 7p-9p, kept the space lighted, music playing, sodas cold, and we all jabbered away, about traveling, becoming, leaving.....the usual topics vagabonds share an interest in. Having secured some connection our primitive selves are always in search of we parted and I headed off to try to keep my breathing deep enuf to fall asleep without my gasping throwing me back into wakefulness.

I woke up following an intense dream that wove concerns about an unresolveable quest, escaping some kind of pressure, and a feeling of being somewhere that didn't have clear enuf boundaries. Maybe all this uncertainty, all bundled together, made me instinctively look around for Alex. He made things solid. He designed things so they were beautiful, and exquisitely serviceable. I wanted that concrete assurance, that I too was solid, and serviceable, and even in some way beautiful. Tristan was doing fine without Alex around. I would be fine too, but not quite yet.

"We compost our waste here. On occasion we eat trout from the pond. In the summer there are tents set up all over. There are more buildings to come, without Alex if need be, and one day I will have horses here too. There are many seeds here waiting for their time. Maybe you will come back and be a teacher here one day. Could happen you know. "

After the Night Time Snow. Before the Mid Day Sun.

The cold had drawn the water out of the clouds over night, and the snow line had come far down the sides of the nearby mountains. The sunlight greeting me as I stepped from my room, warmed me, added further burn to my face, and removed the last shivers my room had kept about me. Over the morning hours it would erase the extension of the snow, turning it into the rising level of water in the nearby streams, and reminding me that even in this stillness, nothing totally stops.

The tea water in the lodge was hot, but still nowhere was there a sign of any other two legged alive and moving about. I sat, slowly chewing my grain and fruit breakfast, on the wooden sofa facing the trout pond, facing the sunlight, watching the cattle and sheep being herded to higher pastures, and both wished that Alex was there to make things solid for me, and noting that Alex was here, making things solid for me. Maybe it was the strength and clarity in the structures here that gave me enuf room inside to both know and not know all at the same time.

"I ran the Hostel down in Huarez for several years, while Alex was up here building. It worked really well that we listed our rates as "whatever you think its worth". We did a lot of unusual things at the Hostel, and most of it worked really well. Once we were operating up here though we closed the Hostel. Sometimes I would drive up here with a load of materials just to find something else essential was needed, and some days I'd make three trips up and down to Huarez. Now that its so beautiful, you really can't see all the work that has gone into this place. You love it too, don't you?"

Trout Pond, Volley Ball Court and The Little People.

Bruni, Tristan, and I would share many episodes this one full day I lived in the Cordillera Blanca. By clock time, these quick and often punctuated sessions of engagement were short, and by conventional measures they could be easily forgotten. But I have been on a quest for over 40 years now, and when I find souls whose hearts are open, whose intents are good, and who seem to know I am as precious as they are, I savor each of these moments deep enuf to go past time. This was a day that passed quickly, and was so much longer than time can tell about. I quickly feel in love with Tristan, and leaned towards him with the same intent of offering life as I am drawn to with my own children. We tossed the ball and the frisbee, retrieved his visored hat, wrestled, affirmed that yes he was quite a soldier, and I stood by at a distance ready to intrude should his naked water play with his friends expose him to too much sun, or place him too near the wall's edge. I enjoyed being part of a baby's play in Eden.

Bruni.

As Bruni moved about taking care of chores, Tristan, and sometimes just being there for God to pour Her beauty into, I was being softened. Sometimes we had time to chat, about moms, dads, siblings, suffering, learning...the things probably most people share who go far away and then open their eyes. After each feeling trajectory, where her presence seemed to soften me somewhere, her eyes would rest in mine, and absent my defenses, I would, over and over, fall in love with her. Her willingness to stay present with me in these moments told me she too had found a safe connection. And there was no impetus in either of us to collect, hold, or in any way keep this blessing. We were two souls, seeing each other, grateful for this unsought treasure, and devoted without question to paths that were not to be shared for long.

"We bought 14 acres here. Most of it is on the hillside, down there. We raised food on the terraces, but now it just seems more right to buy from the local farmers here. Nobody lives a separate life in the Mountains."

Texas Hold 'em with the Generator Off.

In the aft Bruni, I, and Roger the Elder, sang a few songs. Bruni has a beautiful, airy, voice. I never know how I sound, and Roger could hardly be heard. But we shared that ancient ritual, in this primal setting, and then we stopped and gathered with everyone for dinner. We also did the dinner ritual, sharing of food, stories, and time, and then stopped that too. Finally we clarified the Mountain Rules for Texas Hold "em, and the beginners won most of the chips, and I lost my $3 very quickly, confirming all my past experiences with poker. And that too stopped, and my bed received me, to gestate my soul for another day.

"Yes, he put in the wire conduits, but not the wires. He had someone else do the actual wiring. The water canal, and pipes feeding the trout pond. He made that work so smoothly. Yes, I had ideas all along. And in many ways you can't tell what is from me and what is from Alex. Kind of like Tristan, I think. And I guess in the end, this place is like Tristan. It exists on its own now. And still needs us. Actually they both need all of us. "

The cab returned me after a few hundred yards when Bruni called him and asked for my key back. I might have kept that key on purpose, just so I would have one more chance to say good bye to Bruni, to share a hug that assured us both that something precious had been shared here. If I didn't do that on purpose, then I know even better than before that I can trust something bigger than me to get the important things done.

Thanks Bruni, for you, for the Lodge, for Tristan, for Alex, and for both more and less of me.

As I drive away, I think again of Alex: I wonder if its something in the mountains that makes silence arrive so full.

Namaste - Tom C.