My First Backpacking Trip Was A Disaster

Prior to my first backpacking trip, I imagined the beautifully edited Youtube videos version that I had seen in other people’s adventures. With perfect weather, drone shots over dramatic mountain regions, and people with massive grins effortlessly prancing with their perfectly organized packs, I expected my backpacking trip to be the same. Let me just say my first multi day trek was less of a Hollywood brightly colored short film, and more of an episode of Survivor.

I was in Huaraz, Peru, an absolute hiking haven with various treks and beautiful landscapes at every turn. I had met a fun Kiwi couple, and we had decided to do Huayhuash together, an 8 day guided trek. We arrived at the start of rainy season and were hoping to avoid the insane monsoons that we had been warned about. We decided to fill the time until our Huayhuash tour with multiple day hikes and then figured why not also do Santa Cruz to train and acclimatize.

Santa Cruz is a traditionally 4 day trek through the Cordillera Blancas. Because of the shorter length, many people encourage you to complete the trek without a guide. So my friend and I decided to go for it. With little to no experience, we spent an afternoon running around Huaraz from various stores deciding we would do it without a guide and basically zero knowledge about backpacking. After gathering all of our supplies, our expenses were almost to the cost to hire a guide, but we were determined to do it solo.

At around 9 PM with stress levels high, we went to the grocery, unsure what to buy, what would last, and what we would actually enjoy. Yes, Peru is a cheap country, but we ended up spending $6 each on food…for FOUR days! After arranging our overstuffed packs, ramen squished into every pocket, and getting our rain ponchos ready, we went to sleep and anxiously awaited our journey.

The first day we did Laguna 69, hoping that after we could catch the colectivo to start the trek. After missing it, we decided to camp there, and experienced the first night of rain. The next morning, we awoke super early to go catch the first colectivo of the day. After asking many people and waiting for a few hours, a van finally arrived and we loaded into the back. The winding road was not for the faint of heart, weaving up and down intense turns, and lasting about 3 hours. We finally made it to the town to start Santa Cruz, Vaqueria. Loading up on water, we began walking, immediately feeling how heavy our bags were. At this point, I was a seasoned hiker at high altitudes but the extra 30 pounds on my back made for a slow and steady pace.

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Because of no service, and our inability to catch a colectivo the first day, we were pressed for time, because my friend told her husband we’d be back by Thursday, so we had to squish the 4 day trek into 3. As we trekked through the first day, we ran into a group with a guide. I strongly considered hiring a donkey for the next day, as we struggled to carry our loads. We passed the group by a significant amount and found a nice camp spot.

After our first hearty round of ramen, we set up the tent after about 10 hours of hiking and settled in. At around midnight, the infamous rain began flooding our tent. My friend eventually asked if my sleeping bag was also soaked. We decided to leave the tent around 4 AM, making a pot of oatmeal, trying our best to dry off our soaked gear, and starting off on what was supposed to be the most difficult day.

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Despite our exhaustion, we passed some absolutely stunning views. We walked towards reflective waters mirroring the gorgeous and dramatic mountains, and saw the enormous Punta Union, which we would have to climb. With some serious stomach issues, we groaned as we approached the pass. We slowly but surely started climbing the steep mountain. Fog covered the area creating a moody and intense climb. The guided group met us and quickly passed us as their donkeys had the bulk of their weight. We slowly trudged, unsure if we would ever make it. After a very slow and difficult morning, we finally got to the top of the mountain and saw some of the most beautiful views. The Cordilleras Blancas were well worth their hype, and the gorgeous view at the top made me feel completely satisfied.

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Despite the glorious views, we still had a long way to go if we wanted to complete the trek in 3 days. We continued in a giddy mood from a mixture of sleep deprivation, a handful of Peruvian cookies, and the incredible views. After a few hours, we took a break trying to dry out our soaked tent and gear. Unfortunately the weather was not budging, and as we munched on squished bread and overly processed jelly, we looked forward to see dark moody storm clouds.

Pretty soon, our views turned into foggy clumps of multidirectional rain. For whatever reason, I didn’t put on my rain pants and was quickly realizing my rain coat wasn’t as waterproof as I expected. I felt like I was being pushed back by the wind, and looking forward could only see a Mars like landscape, filled with storm clouds. To say it was miserable is an understatement. I’m not sure my brain was even understanding what was going on. My mentality was just to keep on walking. Walk. Walk. Walk…until the rain stops. Except, it never did. For that entire afternoon, the rain did not give for a minute. The campsite we had in mind was still hours away, but at this point, and this wetness, we were considering finishing the whole thing in two days because sleeping in a wet tent sounded nothing short of miserable, and hypothermia was not an additional factor we wanted to deal with.

Finally we took refuge in an old bathroom. The roof had a hole in it, but we at least could take a break from hiking. We hung up our sleeping bags on the creaky structure, and changed out of soaked gear into the few dry clothes we had left. I was numb. Sore. And seriously thought I was permanently broken. My friend put on an upbeat playlist and made some more ramen. I cannot tell you how delicious and appealing it was to have a warm cup of MSG infused noodles in my hands. Shivering, I slurped that ramen down, took down my damp sleeping bag and literally fell asleep cuddling a rock on the ground.

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We ended up sleeping on and off until 5 AM, and decided to finish off this hike strong. I cannot tell you how unbelievably sore my body was. Despite the third day being much easier than the previous ones, I was wobbling. Each step, I cringed and my head was raging with a headache. I had to stop frequently, feeling dizzy and confused. A dog decided to join us, and genuinely saved my life. He was the reason I could keep going. The weather was perfect this day, and if anything pretty warm. As we finished the final stretch, there were tears in my eyes.

Hobbling into the town, we squished ourselves into a seemingly never ending colectivo, listening to locals speak Quechua, and a stupid smile painted on my face to finally be done with the hardest hike of my life. I am almost positive I got some sort of illness after that trip, because two days later we started Huayhuash and it seriously sounded like I had whooping cough.

Despite this trip being such a disaster, I learned so much about myself, what I’m capable of, and have such a funny memory with this girl from New Zealand. Backpacking trips after this one seemed effortless, and Santa Cruz will forever leave a weird smile on my face. Partially because I know a trip could never go that poorly again, and partially because I never thought I would survive.

I know it sounds so dramatic, but after walking in rain for six hours and rocking yourself to sleep in an abandoned outhouse, you seriously start to question your reasoning for doing things. Santa Cruz was a ridiculous adventure and made Huayhuash all the more easy.

I am so happy to have had this experience, to learn you should eat more than 1500 calories of ramen a day while hiking, and to test your tent before taking it out.

Have you ever had a backpacking trip disaster?