Nieve Nieve, Peru

[Martin Hash]

My wife, Gwynne & I, while we were visiting in Peru, hadn’t heard from my son, Haven, all day. He finally called at 11pm.
“We’ll pick you up at 6:30am tomorrow,” said.
“Do I need shoes?” I asked.
“Wear what’s comfortable,” he said.
“I’m wearing flip-flops,” I replied.
“Tomorrow then,” Haven signed off and the phone disconnected.
In the morning we took a taxi to the pick-up where we caught a bus up into the mountains; at least that’s what I call them: there’re really something between hills and mountains because they’re steeper than hills but shorter than mountains as and go higher & higher. They’re made entirely of crumbling mud & rock. Haven had an online meeting at 8am which he attended in his bus seat but we lost service about an hour in on the way up. He didn’t seem concerned however. Eventually, we stopped for breakfast at Nieve Nieve which translated literally means “Snow Snow.” For centuries the place had done a thriving business supplying ice to the lower elevations but it was hot & dry during the summer so depended on tourists like us.

City Limit Sign.jpg

City Limits sign

Haven was fooling with his phone as the rest of us got out of the bus. He gave up and came over to talk to me.
“You want to see something cool?”
“Sure.”
Haven immediately started jogging down the road back the way we’d come. I thought he must be hurrying so we could see whatever it was and still get back to the bus on time but a mile or so along, Haven way in front, I began to wonder how far we were going: I was wearing flip-flops after all. A bit further we turned onto a side track to what was apparently a 400-year old abandoned city built by the Spanish. Haven had been there before which is why he knew about it. It was very interesting. There was not another live soul but I don’t know how many dead ones? Haven continued to rush ahead while I walked through it taking pictures. I could see ahead that he’d started up a rough path in the bare dirt mountainside. I wondered what was up there; maybe a better view; but what could be better than wandering among historical collapsing buildings? Never-the-less, I followed along the steep trail more slowly in my flip-flops.



I finally knew why: yes, there was a fantastic view overlooking the old city on one side and the new city on the other but that wasn’t it… Looking over at Haven, I saw we were here for the cellphone reception. He seemed deeply involved in a call so I waited for awhile.
“Can we make it back to the bus?” I finally asked.
“Go ahead,” Haven replied, taking his ear away from the phone for a second. “I’ll catch up.”
I ran back to the bus, sweaty & tired: they were waiting for me. I looked up: I could see Haven’s blue shirt high on the mountaintop. We waited for awhile; the other passengers were getting restless, glaring at me in the back row.
Eventually I could take it no more: “He said to go ahead.”
The bus took off without Haven: I thought it was just going up the road to a hiking trail but it went on for well over an hour on an incredibly dangerous road overhung by huge rocks held back by a small foundation of sandy dried mud. I never doubted though. Gwynne figured he’d find some some way to meet us back at our apartment in Lima but Haven met us a couple minutes after we stopped at the next place. I don’t know how he got there: he never answers even if I ask.