Ukuku, Qolqepunku Glacier; photo by Jorge Vera 2009

Back in December, msnbc.com published a photo story on Qoyllur Rit’i and global warming, with photos by El Fotógrafo and captions by yours truly.

I neglected to provide the link to that slide show, which includes some of EF’s strongest images of the dangerous (and endangered) glacier pilgrimage, so here it is, belatedly: “Peru’s Disappearing Holy Glacier.”

This photo, above, of a veteran ukuku is one of my favorites. The guy must be about 40 years old, but exposure to the harsh Andean elements has made his face a craggy moraine field.

Most of the ukukus at QR are in their late teens and early 20s; you don’t see a lot of old-timers like this guy. He lived through the crises in the 1990s when the glacier started melting and breaking up, and ukukus began falling into crevasses and dying.

Back then, the religious group that organizes the pilgrimage didn’t know about global warming and its effects on glaciers. They didn’t realize that their seemingly sturdy glacier was becoming a major hazard and couldn’t support the weight of hundreds of ukukus at a time. So they would ascend to the glacier at midnight to perform their rituals, as they had always done, and then the accidents started happening.

One veteran ukuku we interviewed in 2008 told us that he saw nine of his fellow ukukus die on the glacier in 1995. He was about the same age as this ukuku. Both were survivors of and witnesses to the hazards of extreme climate change.

BTW: I swiped the title of this blog post from an entry in the Cabinet of Wonders. COW’s entry provides an excellent introduction to the rituals of Qoyllur Rit’i and to the surreal atmosphere that surrounds this ancient event rooted in pre-Hispanic traditions.

 The title reminds me of these lines about glacier worship from “The Threshold,” by Rudyard Kipling. The speaker starts by recalling the days of early cave-dwelling humans, who lived in the shadow of receding glaciers and were starting to make sense of their place in the world:

The close years packed behind them,

As the glaciers bite and grind,

Filling the new-gouged valleys

With Gods of every kind.

Gods of all-reaching power–

Gods of all-searching eyes–

But each to be wooed by worship

And won by sacrifice.

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photo c. Jorge Vera 2009

Alejandro is from Santiago de Cusco, a province near the former Inca capital. He led a comparsa of 22 members on the pilgrimage last week.

He was intelligent and well spoken, and he patiently explained the signficance of each part of his Capac Qolla outfit to me.

I was intrigued as well by his explanation of why pilgrims travel in comparsas (village groups).

The Lord of Qoyllur Rit’i wants us to live together on this earth peacefully, he explained. We travel to Qoyllur Rit’i in comparsas to learn to share, to stop being egotistical and hypocritical.

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We camped out for three nights (June 6-9) in the valley below receding Qolqepunku Glacier. That dark mountain on the right used to be covered with snow and ice. Once upon a twentieth century…

I look at this photo, and what strikes me is how pleasant and cozy the scene appears. Warm sunlight, plenty of space between campsites.

That’s anything but the truth. Climbing out of that tent in the frigidly cold morning was torture. I got dizzy bending over in the high altitude and sort of collapsed onto this chair just minutes before El Fotografo snapped this shot. There is an 11-year-old child inside the zippered tent, refusing to come out after a sleepless night of listening to the nonstop drumming and loudspeaker announcements.

The day this photo was taken pilgrims began swarming the site. Tents were pitched all around us. We fenced off our area with wooden poles and rope, but one comparsa insisted that this spot was theirs, and they attempted to bully us into relocating to another space.

I stood up and faced them, folding my arms: “No! No es aceptable.” My voice was low and firm, like the tone I use to train Lola in the park. “No!”

The men in the comparsa (I swear they were the same comparsa who had tried the same thing with us last year) stared down at their feet. Bossy gringa, they were thinking (or worse). 

I was not budging. El Fotografo had set up the camp himself the prior night in the dark, an effort so massive at that altitude that he passed out, face down onto a mat, for 30 seconds. People do die at Qoyllur Rit’i — from cold, altitude sickness, over exertion. I wasn’t going to risk that scenario again.

My tone of voice must have convinced them. They backed off and started setting up a tent one foot from ours. A small victory.

By mid-afternoon that day, the valley was crammed with tents and people sleeping under tarps. Groups of dancers were stomping in rhythm to bass drums, passing within inches of our tent as they made their way to the glacier. When you lay down in the tent, you could feel the moss-covered ground trembling beneath you.  

By 4 p.m. the sun had disappeared behind the mountain peaks, and breathing in the cold air was like gulping ice cubes. Then to nightfall.

Camping at Qoyllur Rit’i.

Related posts:

1. “All Hail the Glacier Gods”: El Fotografo’s MSNBC Pix of Qoyllur Rit’i Back in December, msnbc.com published a photo story on Qoyllur Rit’i...

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Doing the Yawar Mayu dance with a dancer from Cusco

El Fotografo and I were making friend with our camping neighbors — a comparsa from Cusco — at the Qoyllur Rit’i pilgrimage last weekend, when suddenly one of the young dancers snatched me by the arm.

“Come on, dance,” she said.

No, I said, several times — No to the satin skirt being pinned around my (enormous) down jacket, No to the elaborate flat hat (montera) being strapped on my head, No to the leather whip being thrust in my gloved hand.

No, because this gringa didn’t want to risk having a heart attack by foolishly dancing the “Yawar Mayu” (River of Blood) ritual whipping dance at 15,500 feet above sea level.

Not even El Fotografo took my objections seriously: “Look, if you want to get your interviews with them, you have to dance.” He pushed me into the circle of comparsa members that were looking on.

Disconcertingly I noticed a few turistas running over with cameras in hand. I was fair game for all.

So I went along with it: The violin and drum music started up, and the dancer and I swung our whips in the air, circling one another, as we closed in to whip each other’s ankles.

The poor girl had nothing on her legs but thin pantyhose. I gave a few lame cracks.

“Harder! Harder!” the onlookers yelled.

I staggered around in my preposterous outfit — with a fully loaded backpack on my shoulders — and prayed that I wouldn’t faint. The girl wasn’t hitting my legs that hard but my heart began to pound erratically and I was reminded of the arrogant French alpinist who had died at Qoyllur Rit’i in 2007. He tried to run up the mountain and his heart exploded.

Boom. C’est la vie.

The dance ended, and the girl and I hugged, and then, yes, I did get my interview.

I still maintain that I would have gotten it without going through the whipping dance, but EF insists not.

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photo c. Jorge Vera 2006

Bitterly cold temperatures (-10 degrees Celcius), sleepless nights accompanied by constant drumming, dynamite being set off helter-skelter. Having to re-set up camp ourselves in the dark due to our arriero‘s incompetence (tents pitched at angles, facing wind). El Fotografo passing out due to exertion at high altitude….I could go on and on.

But on the plus side — we met a great comparsa from Cusco-Santiago, who welcomed us into their rituals and let us understand the remarkable faith that drives pilgrims to make this perilous journey to a glacier’s edge.

They even dressed me and El Hijo up as Capac Qolla (rich llama traders) and taught us to dance while cracking a leather whip.

Such is the strange, surreal world of Qoyllur Rit’i.

Related posts:

1. “All Hail the Glacier Gods”: El Fotografo’s MSNBC Pix of Qoyllur Rit’i Back in December, msnbc.com published a photo story on Qoyllur Rit’i...

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The hostal is owned by El Fotografo’s cousin Jorge, who’s got a nice thing going here. We’re listening to the Waifs and eating local bread with eggs, cheese, ham — 100 percent energy, as Jorge says.

El Hijo likes Cusco this time around. I have no idea how well he will cope at high altitude, surrounded by tens of thousands of dancing, chanting pilgrims.  Tonight we’ll find out.

Yesterday we interviewed Dr. Jorge Flores Ochoa, the famed pastoralist from the Universidad San Antonio Abad. He was gracious and thoughtful, explaining the profound connections between the Andean people, Pachamama and their cosmology.

Flores Ochoa was very interested that El Hijo was coming along. His own children accompanied him many times to Qoyllur Rit’i, starting at age five.

He looked El Hijo in the eye and said, You will see lots of children there. Little ones with their mothers. Don’t worry. Everyone does it.

Related posts:

1. “All Hail the Glacier Gods”: El Fotografo’s MSNBC Pix of Qoyllur Rit’i Back in December, msnbc.com published a photo story on Qoyllur Rit’i...

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Pilgrims camping at Qoyllur Rit’i, 2008

The annual Andean pilgrimage takes place in a remote valley in southern Peru, at the foot of 16,000-foot-high Qolqepunku Glacier. Pilgrims travel from all over central and southern Peru, as well as northern Boliva, to attend this remarkable event, the largest of its kind in the Western Hemisphere.

The Catholic Church has its hand in Qoyllur Rit’i, but what really interests me and El Fotografo are the indigenous, ice-worshipping rituals that people perform at Qoyllur Rit’i. That’s why we’re braving the sub-zero temps to camp out with 100,000 pilgrims for three nights. We’ll be interviewing pilgrims and dancers, and El Fotografo will be taking photos with his Hasselblad outfitted with a new digital back, courtesy of Hasselblad America (thanks, kind sponsor!).

Also part of our expedition team is videographer Martin Vera and, for the first time, our son, El Hijo. (This may be the first time that an 11-year-old gringo attends Qoyllur Rit’i.)

The real story we’re after is how the local people are coping with the loss of glacier ice due to climate change. Qolqepunku Glacier, like all tropical glaciers in Peru, is vanishing faster than even the scientists predicted it would. The most important mountain in Andean cosmology is “losing its white poncho,” as the locals say.

We want to understand what that loss means to a people who have lived among these snow-capped mountains for thousands of years.

El Hijo will be taking notes at Qoyllur Rit’i and afterward making a PowerPoint presentation to share with his class in Lima.

I’m proud of him and also concerned about his keeping warm. Fortunately I bought some thick woolen long-johns in the Cusco market last year, and he’s now big enough to wear them, I think. 

Time to tear El Hijo away from his Nintendo DS for a quick fitting.

Related posts:

1. “All Hail the Glacier Gods”: El Fotografo’s MSNBC Pix of Qoyllur Rit’i Back in December, msnbc.com published a photo story on Qoyllur Rit’i...

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Masked dancer at Qoyllur Rit’i festival, Peru, 2006

 El Fotografo spied this guy at the 2006 pilgrimage. He embodies the fertility cult that underpins the festival’s Catholic traditions, which have been sycretized with older, Andean rituals.

I find this image rather terrifying, for some reason.

We looked again for the Sheep’s Head Dancer this past May but didn’t see hide nor hair of him, as they say.

—Barbara R. Drake

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Media outlets such as National Geographic speak of Qoyllur Rit’i as “the largest indigenous religious pilgrimage in the Western Hemisphere.” But how big is it, really?

The number of pilgrims most frequently cited by writers is 40,000. I’ve also seen estimates at 60,000 and 80,000. Wikipedia lowballs attendance at an incredible 10,000 pilgrims.

But these figures seem skewed when you visit the site when the pilgrimage is in full swing.

I tend to agree with a volunteer for Peru’s Civil Defense, who puts total number of pilgrims at around 300,000 over the four days of the event. Dr. Victor Andia, a doctor who runs the Civil Defense medical tent at the Qoyllur Rit’i shrine, has assisted at the last 24 (!) pilgrimages and has seen the event grow substantially since 1984. In 2006, he estimated that about 100,000 pilgrims camp out in the Sinakara Valley over the course of three nights. (He arrived at that estimate by comparing the crowd size at QR to that at Peru’s National Stadium, in Lima, which holds 50,000 people.)

Andia adds to that 100,000 “overnight” figure that of another 200,000 traveling pilgrims, who make the climb to the sanctuary and return home that same day.

I believe Andia’s figure of 300,000 is reasonable and accurate. The picture above shows the Sinakara Valley on May 17, 2008, filled with tents and makeshift shelters set up by this pilgrims. Note that the valley was only partially filled when EF took the picture. The landscape became even more crowded on Sunday and Monday nights, May 18 and 19, when the pilgrimage reached its height. Our own campsite was so crowded, we were hemmed in by other tents on three sides.

It’s time for officials to revise their estimates of attendance at Qoyllur Rit’i. The pilgrimage is massive and understaffed for an event of its magnitude.

Note that Woodstock, in 1969, drew 400,000 attendees.

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El Fotógrafo and I are back from the pilgrimage of Qoyllur Rit’i in the Sinakara Mountain range, 80 miles southeast of Cusco, where for three brutally cold nights (May 16 – 18) we camped out below Qolqepunku glacier, along with tens of thousands of pilgrims from parts of Peru and Bolivia. Our goal? To document, in photos and interviews, the changes that global warming has wrought on this 17,000-foot-high glacier, which is considered sacred by the Andean people, and to find out what pilgrims think about their revered glacier vanishing into the ether.

It was a rough stint, but worth it: EF got some wonderful shots, I was able to interview people in Spanish and even in Quechua (with a translator), and neither of us fell down a ravine or contracted pneumonia, both real possibilities in that harsh environment.

Tens of thousands of costumed dancers swarm over the mountainside during the pilgrimage, but none can beat the ukukus (“bear men”) for their energy, exuberance and daring. I must have seen hundreds of masked ukukus at this year’s pilgrimage, all of them brandishing whips and little doll miniatures of themselves and talking in odd falsetto voices. Young men in the Andes prove their manhood by serving as ukuku/guardians of the dance groups (comparsas) that travel to the pilgrimage site each year.

On the final night before the end of Qoyllur Rit’i, all the ukukus from different provinces climb the glacier to conduct a vigil and supposedly battle the condemned souls that live up there. It is not uncommon for one or two ukukus to die during these excursions, which take place on icy terrain under a full moon; prior to 2003, the ukukus descended at dawn toting blocks of glacial ice on their backs and raced downhill to see who would make it to the town of Mawayani first (ukukus also perished in this race as well). The race was discontinued out of respect for the dwindling supply of ice at the glacier, but even still, it’s a hard, perilous task being an ukuku.

I was told one ukuku died in a road accident on his way to the pilgrimage this year.

The photo above shows a group of ukukus accompanying a man who is carrying his village’s sacred image (lámina) to the shrine cathedral. The lámina spends several days in the church in the company of “El Senor de Qoyllur Rit’i,” a painted image of Christ that is said to have miraculously appeared on a rock back in the 1700s, following the appearance of the Christ child in the Sinakara Valley.

If you are confused what a picture of Jesus is doing with a bunch of wooly bear-men carrying whips, well – welcome to the world of religious syncretism. In the Andes, native beliefs blend (collide?) with Catholic traditions, and the result is a form of spiritual practice that is passionate, contradictory and bewildering to outsiders. The ancient pilgrimage of Qoyllur Rit’i is one of the most powerful expressions of this syncretic outlook. You could spend a lifetime trying to unravel the meaning of its dances, costumes and rituals.

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