Many of us will have heard of the Colca Canyon, with its condor viewing experience that draws tourists from all over the world (well, that's assuming you don't have a pandemic happening, or nationwide rioting for that matter).  But to the north there is another canyon -- much deeper, wider, but less well-known: the Cotahuasi Canyon.

SIM workers Brad and Gina Shaw have been living in the Cotahuasi Canyon for over 20 years, helping establish the church, setting up a radio station, providing health care, and much more besides.  Most recently the Shaws and the Cotahuasi church have been hosting a Bible translation team from the Quechua mission AIDIA, who are working on translating the Bible into the 'La Union' Quechua dialect.

Last week we spent ten days in Cotahuasi, with Mike teaching the Bible overview course, Kerry helping out Gina with the huge amount of hospitality the Shaws provide, and us accompanying Brad on a couple of radio 'reconnaissance' trips to different villages in the canyon.  We also took a couple of days off to visit some hot springs and the awesome Sipia waterfall.

Below: Bible overview course in full swing.

Above: a couple of ladies having a 'Berean moment' (see Acts 17:11) in the IEP church in Huillac, Cotahuasi Canyon.

It is about an 8-hour drive to get to the Cotahuasi Canyon.  This takes you across the 4500m altiplano until you come to the rim of the canyon, which is about 2 miles deep.  (The Grand Canyon, by comparison, is a mere 1 mile deep.)  Within the canyon it's another climate: relatively warm, there are trees in abundance, farms, livestock, flowing water.  But up on the rim and across the altiplano it's cold, dry, icy, minimal vegetation (if not just bare dirt), and the air is thin.  The canyon and the surrounding altiplano feel like completely different worlds.

Below: Coropuna, 2nd-highest mountain in Peru (6377m).  From Arequipa you have to drive around the western side of Coropuna to get to Cotahuasi.  As you drive around the mountain, you get to see some of the glaciers that are coming off its flanks.

Above: Brad (l) and Fredy (r) helping a local get his radio reception sorted in the village of Cochapampa.

Below: Police station, Pampamarca.

Above: Majes valley.  There are many river valleys like this along the Pacific coast of Peru.  These areas rarely get any rainfall, but they do have permanent rivers that come down from the Andes.  Rice, wheat, oats, corn, peppers -- a whole variety of crops are harvested.  Human habitation of these valleys goes back a long way; many have areas where you can find petroglyphs (carvings on rock surfaces) and hunter-gatherer stone tools.

Below: church lunch after the Sunday service, Cotahuasi.  The ladies had got together the night before and peeled a mountain of potatoes, cut up about 10 chickens, and had everything cooking while the service was underway.

We're now into winter here (southern hemisphere), and therefore the coldest months of the year are just ahead of us.  The ETE (Educación Teológica por Extensión) directors, René and Roberto, aren't total gluttons for punishment, so the previous two weekends (26-28 May to Cota Cota, and 2-4 June to Pachachaca) will be the last trips until September -- because in the Andes during winter it does get a bit nippy...

At about 5:00am it starts to get light, but there is little ice to be seen.  But by 7:00am each morning, this stream at Pachachaca was iced-over.   Not having a thermometer handy, I don't know how cold it actually was, but the last time I had felt such biting cold was when I lived in Canberra back in the late 80's, when -7.0 °C was common in August.  So I'd guess that a crisp June morning in Pachachaca is around -5.0 °C.

At 8:00am, René and a couple of the other men decided it was time for a shave and a freshen-up.  Down to the stream they went, just below the icy section (above).  With a bar of soap and a disposable razor, faces were shaved and hair got washed.  Talk about tough men!  I asked René how on earth he managed with the cold.  The secret, he said, was that if you are washing your face or upper body, is that you must keep your socks and boots on -- because if you do this bare-footed, all the energy from your body will immediately drain straight into the ground and you'll come down with an illness.  Likewise, he said, if you're washing your feet then you must make sure that your upper body is clothed and dry, to prevent immediate loss of energy or your 'vitality'.

That's just one example of the kind of health lore that many Peruvians subscribe to.  Of course, my reaction as a Euro-Australian was to think that energy flows and all that sort of thing are a bit on the 'alternative' side.  That they may be.  But never having bathed in a freezing Andean stream, I'd still be inclined to take René's advice anyway!  I might be 'Euro' in origin, but I'm definitely not one of the those Scandinavian ice-breaking skinny-dippers.

Driving back to Arequipa, René and the other brothers and sisters in the Hilux also had some conversations about the health benefits of drinking urine -- specifically that of donkeys and llamas.  The urine has to be fresh, I was assured, and it's good for curing diabetes and also COVID.  Stifling my cynicism, I asked whether the flavour was an issue.  René paused for just a second, and then said that the flavour wasn't important when you had such effective medicine.  Clearly we are from different planets.

Now it would be easy for me to guffaw at such ideas (and believe me, when it comes to donkey's urine, I do have a laugh -- inwardly!).  But here's the thing: if you're from a culture which has, since time immemorial, had to survive in such a hard and sparse landscape, what are you going to do for medicine, and how are you going to think about maintaining your health?  And these days, even when Western medical technology is available, it's simply not accessible for most Peruvians due to the cost.  So maybe I'd just better keep my guffawing to myself.

You also know you're on another planet when, above the doorway you have just entered, you are greeted by two dessicated hawks:

The building we were staying in belonged to the Pachachaca/Tisco municipality and not the church.  I asked my Quechua friends about the dead birds, and they weren't sure -- but it is something to do with keeping evil spirits out of the building.  Maybe some Australians aren't that different; horseshoes above doorways, anyone?  Anyway, one thing was certain: it had been very bad luck for the hawks.

None of the houses in these altitudes have any form of heating.  There are no trees (it's too high for trees or bushes to grow, at around 4.500 metres) and therefore no wood to spare for burning, and so the only fuel available is dried llama/alpaca dung.  But there's only enough of that for cooking.  During the daytime the sun gives plenty of warmth, but the during the nights you just have to rug up.  For most people, that means a mattress of alpaca hides.

Yes they smell fairly musty, but I can also tell you they are warm and very comfortable.  I use a sleeping bag on these trips, but you also have to add a couple of thick blankets over the top, and sleep fully clothed.  (That's my stylish frazada there with the zebras on it.)

Below: students warming up in the morning sun.

For lighting at night, many huts and houses now use solar panels and LED bulbs.  The municipal building has its own generator available, so here are a bunch of the guys figuring out how to get it running:

I would have thought they'd be dab hands at rigging all this up, but the extension lead without any plug and two bare wires did present a challenge.  After yours truly, with some experience at 'home wiring' (ahem) had a crack at it, we had ourselves some light and the meetings and classes could begin.

Above:  René (left) and Nelsondavid (right) selling course books to a student for the next term of study. 

On the Saturday morning of each of the trips, the students would head out into the surrounding countryside to visit the farms and share the Christian message.  It wasn't just 'Bible bashing', as we might call it; I was impressed with how René, for example, knew pretty-well everyone courtesy of his last 40 or so years of visiting these communities.  "And how is your mother?" "Ah, your uncle used to attend the church in Chivay, didn't he?"  Genuine concern for people's welfare alongside clear and succinct explanation of the gospel were the order of the day, along with an invitation to that evening's church service. 

Above: the IEP church building in Cota Cota.  Note the loudspeaker poking out of the building above the doorway.  It is common practice to broadcast a church service to the whole village or town.  We might look sideways at this, but the fact is that the local municipality and other community organisations do the very same thing.  It's just an effective way to let the whole community know something, and it doesn't seem to raise any eyebrows.

On the way back from Cota Cota (last weekend in May), Roberto directed me along some little-used tracks which took us out near the Condoroma dam.  Along the way, he and René reminisced how as younger men they used to go along these tracks on foot.  It would take them days to get anywhere.  Then motorcycles became the preferred mode of transport.  And now, finally, they were doing it in comfort in a 4x4!

Above (centre of picture): pre-Inca fort, supposed to be about 1100 years old.  It's situated on a hill in the centre of a valley, and has commanding views in all directions.

The drives home on these trips are always an education for me -- be it learning about the benefits of llama's urine, or reflecting on the weekend's services and classes, or discussing the challenges many of these believers face in their traditional Quechua communities.  And as the scenery rolls past... well, there is always a lot to be thankful for.