Kimsa kocha

The sky is clear and the sun is shining. HuuuRRraay! A perfect day for a hike and so we are making the most of such gorgeous clear weather. About 4 miles distant following the ridgeline Southeast to Kimsa Kocha, ?three lakes? in Kichwa and the site of some old Canari grave mounds long since looted. Hiking at high elevation with clear views is the best of all feelings. Joy incarnate is the only way to describe that for me. 360 degree views of rugged country unmarred by cities, pavement, and sprawl with nothing to break the spell of the wind but the screech of the hawks riding the thermals. I love the wild high places of the world?.

Treading the muddy trail winding like a snake along the ridge like a jagged scar across the paramo. Keeping my eyes out for the dark shapes ofAndean bears far below, commonly seen foraging here but yet to be seen by us. Instead my eyes caught the white speck of a hawk circling the valley below. Riding just like a kite in the wind. A Variable Hawk, Buteo polyosoma, resident of the paramo and puna grasslands. Past trinkling streams and patches of delicate pink mushrooms. Spiky puya flowers jutting high over our heads, fragile curly ferns, and occasional wildflowers breaking up above the grasses. Following the muddy hoof prints of alpacas and rounding a bend in the trail to find a herd watching us intently from a mossy green clearing in the valley below, wary as wild animals. Two more hawks in the sights of our binoculars, first one then another swooping in to join its mate. A mating pair hunting the ridgeline and riding the thermals.

Crossing one saddle we glimpsed the shape of another hawk startled from a huge old oak festooned with all sorts of ephiphytes and bromeliads along the crest of the ridge. It startled again, circled the tree and landed this time in the crook of a low gnarled branch on the leeward side of the wind. Motioning back with my hands, stop and come forward slowly. Bearing in with the binocs only to discover that it is no hawk we are looking at but a huge great horned owl! What an extremely lucky sign, a fortuitous omen to see a huge horned owl and so close. A rare moment indeed! We watched him there watching us for probably 20 minutes. We were able to approach to within about 20 yards watching through the binocs as he alternately snoozed on his branch and opened his huge yellow eyes to keep a curious benevolent gaze on us. The archetypical owl perched ?owlish? and benevolently on his gnarled branch in this fantastically primeval old oak on the hilltop like something out of a forgotten poem. More good omens came and went as we stood there gazing. A gorgeous hummingbird buzzed up and alighted on the branch right beside me, noticing a beautiful yellow orchid growing right there in the same motion. A tiny jewel clothed in iridescent green with a sparkling orange patch below the throat, white behind the eyes, and a cute little reddish mohawk. Hummingbirds have the best of names and I later ID?ed this guy as a Rainbow Bearded Thornbill, Chalcostigma herrani, most appropriate. Before we moved on to leave our owl in peace one more surprise awaited and a flock of Red Headed Parrots appeared from nowhere in the mist over our heads. A flash of green and crimson accompanied by shrill shreaks and they are gone. What moments of moments etched!

Shortly after we reached Kimsa kocha and I saw the lakes with my own eyes. One was smaller than the next in a small plateau surrounded by the bizarre spires of many puya plants in bloom and much bear sign. The place has a still, holy feel and I can imagine why the Canari would have built a ceremonial site here. Making a picnic on the hilltop above the lakes we took in the view and watched the swifts buzz through the air all around us. Happy and satisfied from the hike and the view eating peanut butter sandwiches and pumpkin seeds.

On return Coral and I went to try to move Big Blue up the hill and out of the mud, Elizabeth and Tim volunteered to help. Coral hates trying to control the truck and so I?ve been appointed the driver, which suits me fine. As much stress as this broken down old landrover dishes out its still quite a bit of fun too, fun like a bucking bronco. Much digging, shoveling, piling in of boards, old puya stalks, grass and gravel, chains, pushing, and much elbow grease we finally got the car up and out on safe rocky ground on the hill above just in time as the sun began to sink over the horizon. It was a truly epic effort with mud so deep at times I could barely open the driver side door. Some of the worst I?ve ever seen and a long story in its own rite that I won?t even elaborate more on. We got it done though hiking back in the dark and stumbling along the muddy track to camp as the frogs began their chorus closing the curtains on an amazing day.