Sober Travels: Exploring Peru
Some of us closed our eyes and prayed as our small bus climbed death-defying switchbacks on the dirt road leading to Huayllafara, Peru. When we arrived, we saw why 35 families still live in this remote spot. A mix of the wild Andes landscape and cultivated fields spread out below us. Sheep roamed and a tethered donkey chewed grass. Six elders in traditional Peruvian dress—men in red chullos, wool hats with ear flaps, the women in dark hats with brims—stood in a row, waiting to welcome us to their village.
After a short welcome speech, the elders invited us to eat a huge lunch of traditional foods. We picked up tiny, warm baked potatoes, topping them with chili sauce and hunks of cheese and avocado. We drank chica morada, a beautiful indigo drink made from dried purple corn.
After lunch, villagers explained the crop cycle and how they farm with the same hand tools used by Incas. This outing was part of a community tourism program that introduced foreign tourists to Quechua-speaking villagers they would never otherwise meet. Residents were initially surprised that outsiders would be so interested in them, village leader Segundino Mamami told me through a translator.
"We're happy to share our food and traditions," he said. "It also improves our economy."
Marshall, who chose to be identified by his first name only, lives in the Los Angeles area and is in his early 30s. He'd been sober for nine months at the time of our Peru trip.
"It's my first time traveling sober," he said. "This early on, you never know if you're fully ready. But being with a group of sober and like-minded people, I felt more secure in my decision to come."
This is the group dynamic Choose Life owner Tristan Klimak is going for.
"Choose Life brings the sober community with you as you explore the world," he said. "And very much the emphasis is on building community."
A group facilitator fosters the bond by leading optional yoga and mindfulness sessions, plus a nightly recovery meeting where participants share on topics such as gratitude and setting boundaries. The format helps travelers open up to each other more than on an average group tour.
"Being with people who can relate to you on a deeper level brings a sense of warmth and comfort," Peru traveler Gillian Kreitenberg of Los Angeles said.
We pulled on wetsuits and spent the late morning on the water, some paddleboarding and others in a skinny six-person canoe. When we got hot, our guide led a group meditation inspired by Wim Hof's cold-water therapy. Then we screwed up our courage and jumped into the chilly, mountain-ringed lake.
After our activities in the water, we warmed up by a smoky bonfire. Our hosts cooked us a pachamanca feast—meat dripping in sauce, vegetables, potatoes, fava beans, plantains, and armfuls of fragrant herbs—deposited in a pit, then covered with hot coals and cooked for hours. After we ate, guide Wilfredo Huillca, a musician who has performed around South America, played the panpipe for us as the sky darkened.
We hikers crossed a bridge over a roaring stream and ascended into the fern-filled cloud forest. In our first three hours, we gained 1,800 feet of elevation on the mostly uphill trail. The Incas built a lot of steps, and we walked up many of them. I took frequent panting breaks.
After the Incas abandoned Machu Picchu, the jungle took it back, hiding the ancient site for 400 years. Huillca, who's proud of his Inca heritage, is excited by the possibility of further archeological digging.
"There's more out there," he said. "There will be more to see."
On the hike to Machu Picchu, we stopped at the 15th-century terraced agricultural complex at Wiñay Wayna overlooking the Urubamba River. While much smaller than Machu Picchu, it was thrilling to visit because nobody was there but our group of eight and a lone guard.
At last, we reached the last set of stone steps—so steep we crawled up. Then, the Sun Gate and our first glimpse of Machu Picchu. The long, steep hike made that view much sweeter.
On another day, our group stopped in the village of Pisac for shopping and a look around. Thousands of people crowded the town square. We had wandered into the Fiesta of the Virgen del Carmen. As I craned my neck, struggling to see a performance by masked dancers, an elderly lady sprang toward me and pinned a gold-framed religious medal to my top. I gave her a few coins and was accepted into the lively crowd. In Peru, my sober travel buddies and I found a culture that welcomed strangers into their parades and parties.
