My tent is covered with a thin layer of ice. Again and again I startle from the bone-chilling cold. I need several layers of clothing to keep me reasonably warm. I wear two pairs of pants, a T-shirt, a down jacket, a rain jacket, and a pair of thick wool socks, with a sleeping bag liner over them. Nevertheless, I am far from the coziness that my sleeping bag promises me at 10 degrees.

At over 4000 meters above sea level, it is not only the highest point where I have ever slept, but also the coldest. In Peru it is dry season right now. I don’t even want to imagine what it’s like when it rains every day. The temperature difference between day and night here in the mountains, the Cordilla Blanca, is over 30 degrees. During the day, you have to be careful not to get burned in the sun, and at night, which falls shortly after 6 p.m., the temperatures quickly drop below freezing.

Spence, the American I met on my four-day trip from Latacunga, Ecuador, to Huaraz, Peru, keeps me company on my first real hike in South America. We chat splendidly, play chess, throw Frisbees. The first time we throw is early in the morning at 4 o’clock in a parking lot in Chimbote. The next bus to Huaraz doesn’t leave until two hours later. The time flies by. ( No pun intended!). In total, I am already 4 nights on the road at this point.

Here in the mountain town of Huaraz, there aren’t many places to throw a few discs. On Google Maps we make out a sports field, which turns out to be part of a school. The gate is open, the sports field is occupied. We find a free yard, which is enough for us to throw discs. In no time at all, students gather around us on several balconies. From three floors they cheer us on and want to play along. The teachers don’t know what’s happening to them. First we are directed to an adjacent basketball court, minutes later we are banished by the principal. She tries to explain to us in good English that we are causing too much of a stir, that the students can’t concentrate. She escorts us outside. Nothing like this has ever happened to the students or to us. What a pity that I didn’t have my cell phone with me for a video.

The very next day we are on our three-day hike from Olleros to Chavin, an ancient Inca ruin. To get there, we have to climb up to 4600 m and descend again. After a few leisurely rounds of chess and cappuccino, we leave later than planned. We take a colectivo, a nine-seater that leaves when there are enough people on board. We wait an hour and a half until we are asked if we would pay double, 5 euros per person, to leave without waiting for more passengers. We agree. An hour later we are dropped off at the start of the trail in the middle of nowhere.

The first day proves to be leisurely, little climbing, pleasant temperatures and a trail that invites us to stroll and chat. We enter a paradise for hikers. Not for nothing is this area said to be one of the most beautiful in the world. I can only guess what views will be offered to me in the coming weeks.

After 13 kilometers we reach the signposted campground. Two big tents and a small four-person tent are already standing. An American family of four has booked a tour with donkeys, a horse and three drivers. After the welcome we have noodles with broth for dinner. When we go to bed, we can only guess what awaits us during the night and the next day.

I had already played with the idea of buying a better sleeping bag, but I wanted to try out first whether my old one would guarantee bearable temperatures. I had already put on everything I had with me, and still I was cold. I didn’t put on the last layer until late at night, partly out of laziness and partly out of fear of losing valuable warmth in the process. When I went to open my tent in the morning, I noticed that the tarp was covered with a layer of ice.

On the second day, we faced the ascent to 4600 meters. As the sun stretched its feelers over the mountains, we quickly warmed up, short pants weather so to speak. It drove us across grasslands that are still used for livestock even at this altitude. People live up here in stone huts with thatched roofs. They all seem to have a small solar panel for a little light in the evening. I can only imagine how it must be to live so isolated. Actually, you can only get here on four or two legs.

Every step upwards seems to be more strenuous. For both of us it is the first time that we hike in such heights. 2000 meters below, I would only stop at the slopes lined with massive rock faces and distant snow peaks to enjoy the breathtaking view or to take a souvenir photo or two. But here in the mountains of Peru, everything is different. I’m breathing heavily and my heart is pumping non-stop. Every kilometer requires a break, we sit down, close our eyes for a moment. Where we were talking non-stop the day before, now there is absolute silence. Actually, the saddle that marks the 4600-meter mark has been in sight for an eternity, but it seems impossible to reach it.

At the top we can only let ourselves fall, there is no strength left to stand. Still half asleep, I notice how suddenly a warm, rough cloth wipes my face. The donkey driver’s laughter wakes me up. The donkey seems to have liked my salty face.

The strong wind whipping over our heads eventually drives us to descend on the other side. Although it is only downhill to the camp, every further step tortures us. The pleasant temperatures and the wind make us forget how strong the sun is. Arrived in the camp, I build up first of all only the inside tent, in order to hide me before the flies and to get so in peace some avocado and bread into me. After the first bites I faint and wake up only one and a half hours later. Only later do we realize that the sun has beaten us to death. The following night I lie in the tent for 12 hours, most of the time unconscious. The cold doesn’t bother me as much that night as it did the night before. Probably because my whole body is still burning from the exertions.

The third day seems like a walk. Rested from the previous days, we roll towards the 3000 year old Inca ruins of Chavín. Enthralled by the architecture that the indigenous people displayed here, we find ourselves in a restaurant that promises Italian food by name, but Buongiorno just sounds good, I guess. After local dishes and an ice cream, we make our way back to Huaraz.

This hike was just a taste of what I have in mind for the next few weeks. After a short acclimatization period in Haraz, I will immediately embark on an even longer hike of seven days. Each of these days promises to be just as strenuous as the last three. But this time I have a better sleeping bag with me, which should keep me warm down to -7 degrees.