It all started in a truck. Our crew of five, as well as our driver, all piled in for a 6-hour ride. Then there were the pack horses that carried our gear (not us) for an hour-long hike along the shore of Lake Sibinacocha, one of the largest, highest lakes in the world. The next day there was a significantly more difficult hike up to our more permanent campsite. That hike was a series of breathtaking views. Imagine a massive lake sitting at the bottom of vast treeless slopes. There are tons of alpaca and sheep near a couple humble homes made of sod. Wild vicuña (more on them later) sneak around on distant hillsides. At the eventual endpoint of the lake is a little stream that winds up through the greenery to a sea of white glacial madness, surrounded by rocky moraines and "small" peaks. Peering over it all is the impressive Nevado Hatun Rit'i, which blends in with the clouds, thanks to its fluffy white exterior. The ascent goes alongside the stream, up to a somewhat flattened rocky outcrop. That was our home. It sat up high, amidst all the good stuff I mentioned earlier.The camp elevation was a whopping 5,200 meters, or 17,000 feet - way up there! Despite the aesthetic beauty, that hike was a little rough. The same can be said of the next few days. The air was cold and oxygen was not so plentiful. Acclimatization was slow for all of us. Also, when it was sunny you had to avoid showing much skin or risk being fried. Being above the Mt. Everest base camp, the environment was obviously kind of extreme.
Before I go on, here is a quick tidbit about the jolly crew I was with. First there was Kelsey, the PhD student, food master, and fearless leader of the project. She does this expedition every month! Then there was Giovanni, the incredibly friendly and knowledgeable Peruvian ecologist. He has been on most of the expeditions with Kelsey. The three project volunteers were gaseous Gavin, Abby the lizard tail snatcher, and myself - all from the U.S.
So the whole purpose of this expedition was to collect a ton of data on how the regional frog population is faring, and how quickly the glacial ice is retreating from climate change. Most days we hiked out to study ponds to flip over many rocks to locate frogs. Individuals were weighed, measured, eaten (kidding), and swabbed for disease. There are supposedly three species at the study ponds: Pleurodema marmorata, Telmatobius marmoratus, and Rhinella spinulosa. We found dozens of tiny P. marmorata froglets, one T. marmoratus tadpole, and no sign of the third species (par for the course). We got to check one famous little pond, which holds the record for highest amphibian (one tadpole, at 4,400m) ever recorded. That data came from a survey almost ten years ago. Nothing there for us.
I absolutely love flipping rocks for frogs and such in my own time, so I was happy to do the work. It was especially exciting the time I found an adult frog, and when I found five little ones under one rock! Giovanni found six a day later to steal my thunder as Frog Master. The lone Telmatobius tadpole was seen by Kelsey, lost, then captured by me. I was almost giddy when I caught that little tadpole, which you are not expected to understand.
Other highlights from the mountains were the non-amphibian wildlife. The most common were the vizcacha, or rock monkey, or monk rocky. They look like a rabbit/squirrel fuzzball and were great fun to watch while doing your business behind some rocks. The other really awesome animal was the majestic vicuña, the wild relative of the llama and alpaca, which I mentioned before. Most of my pictures of vicuña appear to be nothing more than a shot of a dangerous cliffside. Closer inspection shows little vicuña dots scattered about. We also had our resident mice, some random ducks and geese, and bajillions of fuzzy black-and-red caterpillars near streams. Oh, and the lizards of course: Liolaemus signifer and Liolaemus thomasi. How lizards ended up in such a snowy place, I will never understand.
Even though I am a wildlife guy through and through I must say the non-living forms were equally, if not more awe-inspiring. There was Nevado Hatun Rit'i, Lake Sibinacocha, the big glacier white and turquoise glacier, ice caves with magically smooth walls, and the big white Quelccaya Ice Cap (only ice cap in the tropics) over yonder. Of course being so far from civilization meant tremendous stargazing almost every night. The view of the Milky Way was insane! Proud to say I stuck it out long enough to witness seven shooting stars one night, with very numb toes.
A final piece I should mention is our one day off from research activities. All of us hiked up to a glorious viewpoint, from which we saw everything. Then Gavin, Abby, and I got greedy and sought out a spot to reach the milestone of 18,000 feet (nearly 5,500 meters)! It was a difficult climb that ended with us clambering atop a big snowy slope. The other side looked like the planet Hoth, from Star Wars. The three of us shared a Cusqueña (beer) to celebrate the achievement, and then took an exhilarating slide down the slope, twice each. It was a great idea, though my tailbone seems to disagree.
To sum it all up, I think this trip was absolutely worthwhile. It was much more than a camping trip for frog hunters. I feel so lucky to have done it! I will miss the delicious dinners (bucket of alpaca anyone?) and card games, with the five of us crammed into one warm, smelly tent. It was a great group of people to share the experience with, and a stunning location I will never forget.
My next blog post might not be for a while... I am about to start a month-long stay at a field station in the rainforest, east of Cusco. Hard to believe I am about to transition from high Andes to lowland Amazon rainforest in under a week!
