An American in Lima » sacred glaciers

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Barb — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:25:29 +0000

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 of the Day: Ausangate Mountain Range

Barb — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 06:05:44 +0000

[caption id="attachment_510" align="aligncenter" width="432" caption="Ausangate mountain range, photo c. Jorge Vera 2008"][/caption]

Preparing to Visit Apu Ausangate

Barb — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 23:05:43 +0000

Mount Ausangate, highest mountain in southern Peru

I'm heading to Cusco on Friday to spend a week trekking around the mighty Nevado Ausangate, which at 20,945 feet (6,384 meters) is the highest peak in southern Peru. I'll be interviewing campesinos about climate change, with the help of a Quechua/Spanish translator. (Click here for a slideshow of beautiful images from an Ausangate trek posted by someone named Geniza.) My trusted guide Pablo will accompany me, along with his family and one of Jorge's cousins. This is my first trip to Ausangate so I'm counting on Pablo to see us safely around the area. The air is very thin up there, and temperatures at night dip to below 0 degrees Celsius. Time to bring out the woollen undies I bought for Qoyllur Rit'i in 2006. The local Quechua-speaking people consider Ausangate the mightiest apu or mountain lord of the region. Like all apus, Ausangate has a gender (male) and a personality (powerful, easily offended). Local customs dictate that we pay our respects to the apu prior to beginning our trek, to ensure a successful journey. One way to pay our respects is to prepare a bundle of coca leaves known as a k'intu and to perform a ceremony over it before chewing it. Typically there are three leaves in a k'intu but because Ausangate is so powerful, he gets six leaves, Pablo tells me. Here is a picture of Pablo preparing a k'intu to Apu Ausangate prior to our journey to Qoyllur Rit'i, which is held in a valley within sight of the Ausangate massif:

Pablo prepares a k'intu to Apu Ausangate, May 2008

A book I highly recommend if you want to learn more about k'intus and local traditions in the Andes is The Hold Life Has, by ethnographer Catherine J. Allen. The book is subtitled "Coca and Cultural Identity in an Andean Community," and it focuses on the people of Sonqo and "the hold life has" on them between 1985 and 2002. It's well written and filled with dynamic scenes that show the villagers of Sonqo as complex, very real human beings. Related Posts: Dancing for a Dying Glacier (May 24, 2008) Back from Qoyllur Rit'i and Ukuku Madness (May 23, 2008) An American in Lima Goes to Qoyllur Rit'i (May 14, 2008)

Dancing for a Dying Glacier

Barb — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:25:29 +0000

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.

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.

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 of the Day: Ausangate Mountain Range

Barb — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 06:05:44 +0000

[caption id="attachment_510" align="aligncenter" width="432" caption="Ausangate mountain range, photo c. Jorge Vera 2008"][/caption]

Preparing to Visit Apu Ausangate

Barb — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 23:05:43 +0000

Mount Ausangate, highest mountain in southern Peru

Pablo prepares a k'intu to Apu Ausangate, May 2008

Dancing for a Dying Glacier

Barb — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:25:29 +0000

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.

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.

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.

Buy Bromazepam Without Prescription Buy Bromazepam Without Prescription, Tonight NBC Nightly News airs a...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

An American in Lima » sacred glaciers

Barb — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:25:29 +0000

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.

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.

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.

Buy Bromazepam Without Prescription Buy Bromazepam Without Prescription, Tonight NBC Nightly News airs a...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Photo of the Day: Ausangate Mountain Range

Barb — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 06:05:44 +0000

[caption id="attachment_510" align="aligncenter" width="432" caption="Ausangate mountain range, photo c. Jorge Vera 2008"][/caption]

Preparing to Visit Apu Ausangate

Barb — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 23:05:43 +0000

Mount Ausangate, highest mountain in southern Peru

Pablo prepares a k'intu to Apu Ausangate, May 2008

Dancing for a Dying Glacier

Barb — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 06:05:44 +0000

[caption id="attachment_510" align="aligncenter" width="432" caption="Ausangate mountain range, photo c. Jorge Vera 2008"][/caption]

An American in Lima » sacred glaciers

Barb — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:25:29 +0000

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.

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.

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.

Buy Bromazepam Without Prescription Buy Bromazepam Without Prescription, Tonight NBC Nightly News airs a...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Photo of the Day: Ausangate Mountain Range

Barb — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 06:05:44 +0000

[caption id="attachment_510" align="aligncenter" width="432" caption="Ausangate mountain range, photo c. Jorge Vera 2008"][/caption]

Preparing to Visit Apu Ausangate

Barb — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 23:05:43 +0000

Mount Ausangate, highest mountain in southern Peru

Pablo prepares a k'intu to Apu Ausangate, May 2008

Dancing for a Dying Glacier

Barb — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 23:05:43 +0000

Mount Ausangate, highest mountain in southern Peru

Pablo prepares a k'intu to Apu Ausangate, May 2008

An American in Lima » sacred glaciers

Barb — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 18:25:29 +0000

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.

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.

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.

Buy Bromazepam Without Prescription Buy Bromazepam Without Prescription, Tonight NBC Nightly News airs a...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Photo of the Day: Ausangate Mountain Range

Barb — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 06:05:44 +0000

[caption id="attachment_510" align="aligncenter" width="432" caption="Ausangate mountain range, photo c. Jorge Vera 2008"][/caption]

Preparing to Visit Apu Ausangate

Barb — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 23:05:43 +0000

Mount Ausangate, highest mountain in southern Peru

Pablo prepares a k'intu to Apu Ausangate, May 2008

Dancing for a Dying Glacier

Barb — Sun, 25 May 2008 00:41:09 +0000

Just back from the annual pilgrimage of Qoyllur Rit'i, which takes place just below a 17,000-foot-high glacier (actually, three glacial tongues) in the southern Andes, about 80 miles south of Cusco. Since pre-Inca times, Qolqepunku Glacier has been revered as a sacred site associated with nearby Mount Ausangate, the tallest mountain in the region, considered by Andean people to be the area's most powerful deity or "apu." For hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years, local people have made the arduous journey to this remote, high-altitude glacier to pay homage with music, dance and offerings. In return, the apu grants health and fertility to the devotees, as well as to their families, their animals and their crops. Catholic rituals were added to the mix in the 1700s, but the pilgrimage remains a decidedly Andean event, and, like their preColumbian ancestors, devotees believe that the ice from Qolqepunku has divine healing powers. All of which is fascinating and deserving of a detailed anthropological study (there have been many), except a recent crisis has propelled this timeless pilgrimage into the environmental news limelight: Qolqepunku, like other glaciers around the world, is receding at an incredibly fast rate due to global warming, and soon there will be nothing left. The Wall Street Journal broke the news in 2005 about the sacred glacier's impending demise with a front-page story by Antonio Regalado. Since then, other writers, photographers and videographers have visited Qoyllur Rit'i to witness and record the changes. In 2006, after visiting the site, glaciologist Lonnie Thompson told me that Qolqepunku has passed its "threshold," the point beyond which a glacier can never replenish itself. This news is devastating in so many ways, the most pressing being that tropical glaciers such as Qolqepunku supply Peru with 80 percent of its total water supply. Once the country's glaciers are gone, no water. No water, no life. And the process is happening now, in our lifetime. El Fotografo and I made our first journey to Qoyllur Rit'i in June 2006, hoping to photograph one of its most ancient and symbolic rituals: a harrowing race down the mountain by young men known as "ukukus" carrying huge blocks of ice on their backs. Sadly, we found out, that tradition had been discontinued in 2003 out of respect for the glacier's precarious state. There was no mountain race in 2006 for EF to photograph, but we did observe about a hundred pilgrims (non-ukukus) pilfering bits of ice from the still-massive glacier, whose run-off gushed down the mountain in myriad streams. EF took a number of shots of people stealing ice, as well as of pilgrims being whipped by zealous guardians of the ice known as the Brotherhood of Qoyllur Rit'i. However, the Brotherhood did permit people to play on the glacier, and plenty of people were doing that: lighting votive candles in the snow, throwing snowballs, climbing up the ice to one of the snowy peaks. I wasn't daring enough to risk a climb up the glacier (actually, I could barely breath in the thin air); instead, I stood at its base and peered inside a deep crack in the ice, marveling at it eerie green-blue light. The glacier was big and covered in grit and hugely beautiful. I began to understand why many native Andean people love their mountains in a deeply personal way. Last Sunday afternoon, May 18, EF and I climbed to the place where two years ago the glacier's edge had been and found nothing but dirt and moraine. All the ice was gone – the huge, frozen, whale-like wall that I had once leaned against simply was not there. It was the strangest feeling, to stand where an enormous glacier had been and now wasn't. The effect was sudden, sharp, bewildering to the body – like walking into a familiar room expecting to see someone you love, only to remember: he or she is dead. So this is what the effects of rapid climate change feel like up close, I thought, staring dumbly at the raw brown dirt. The world immediately around you stops making sense. The glacier wasn't all gone, of course. It had literally fled up the mountain, lying like a panting white tongue between two black peaks. EF and I eyeballed the distance and argued over how far the glacier had receded: I said 40 feet; EF put it at 60 to 80. We finally agreed that, whatever the exact number of feet, it would take another 45 minutes, at least, to climb up to the new terminus, and EF said he wasn't up for the hike, given that he didn't have crampons to climb the ice safely once we arrived there. I agreed it wasn't worth the risk. From where we stood, we could see only a few lone figures struggling up the glacier, in contrast with the hundred or so people we had seen on there in 2006. Not even the unsmiling members of the Brotherhood were lurking to whip people for stealing ice: evidently the additional trek up the mountain was too much for most pilgrims. A thin layer of fresh snow dusted the mountaintops, but that couldn't disguise that the so-called eternal snows of Qoyllur Rit'i were vanishing. EF shot some more pictures, and then we turned to make our way down through the rocks and dirt. I was thinking, as I trod along in my muddy hiking boots: This place looks like a construction site. Forty minutes later, we crossed over a makeshift bridge by the Qoyllur Rit'i sanctuary and trudged toward our campsite, trying to avoid the clods of horse and burro excrement lining the path. It was nighttime now. The valley was a sea of tents and pilgrims huddled under blue plastic tarps. There was lots of garbage scattered about and some not-very-pleasant smells emanating from open-air cooking pots, but the ugliness was countered by something more potent: The exuberant faith of the pilgrims. All around us, people were dancing. Dancing in pairs, dancing in lines. Dancing in fancy, spangled costumes and fearsome masks. The dancing would go on all night and then all the next day, when EF and I would leave. And even after we had climbed down the mountain, exhausted, and drove back to Cusco, they would still be dancing, all that Monday night into Tuesday: tens of thousands of them. Dancing for the Lord of Qoyllur Rit'i. Dancing for a dying glacier.