On the Alpaca Expeditions side of the equation, our guide, Marcela, is the only member of the all-female crew who speaks English. Quiet with an easy smile, she sits back and allows us to dawdle and bond over meals taken around a communal table, most often under a tent as the wind howls and the doors flap. The atmosphere is intimate and unrushed — tea, tea and more coca tea (coca is thought to help alleviate symptoms of altitude sickness) is poured as the conversation flows and stories are shared. Talk of gear and gradients quickly gives way to how we can recreate these amazing dishes at home. Marcela acts as translator when we coax the busy head cook, Marleni, out of the kitchen to quiz her about herbs and spices, or ask her to share recipes and tips. 

Though the language barrier means we trekkers can’t chat at length with the kitchen crew and porters, we learn small details about their lives along the way. Marleni is in her early 30s. A trailblazer in a male-dominated tourism industry, she comes across as serious but has a luminous smile when we compliment her on the meal. She was in charge of selecting and managing Alpaca Expeditions’ first all-women crew and admits that she’s finding it refreshing to forgo the usual machismo present in the kitchen. The work is challenging, she says, but she feels comfortable knowing her team is motivated by the same goal — working hard during the March-through-November tourism season to help support their families. Her crew comprises her younger sister Lorena, who is saving up to attend nursing school, Eulalia, a single mother of four, and Basilia, who has two children at home.

Each day, we trekkers marvel at how quickly Marleni and the porters bound past us on the mountain paths with massive packs on their backs, Lorena laughing as we clumsily attempt to keep up for a few metres before giving up rather than risk a sprained ankle. On the third day, as we cross the trek’s high point — the snow-covered Salkantay Pass at 4,650 metres — the crew even finds time for an impromptu snowball fight before passing us again on the three-hour downhill to the evening’s campground. By the time we arrive, our tents are up, and we have just enough time to set out our mats and sleeping bags before dinner is served.

Speaking of Peruvian delicacies, I’m embarrassed to admit that until I joined this tour, I had no idea that Peru is internationally renowned for its rich culinary traditions, with foodie visitors from around the globe travelling here specially for cooking classes and to taste for themselves Peruvian dishes that blend Indigenous flavours with Spanish and Asian influences.

As we sit down for an open-air meal a few days into the trek, Marcela informs us that Marleni will be giving our group of food-obsessed hikers a lunchtime cooking class. High fives and cheers ensue as we scramble to clean off the picnic table and call dibs on tasks. Peru’s national dish (and one of the country’s most popular foods) is ceviche. The classic version features raw sea bass marinated with lime juice, onion, salt and hot chilies. But that’s not exactly practical on the road, so Marleni has put together a vegetarian ceviche cooking class. Under her tutelage, each of us takes a role — zesting and juicing limes, chopping garlic, peppers, celery and onions, or peeling mangos. Crunchy Cuzco corn (a giant-kernel version) forms the base of our pop-up ceviche lunch. “I don’t think the kitchen crew will be recruiting you for the team anytime soon,” says Marcela wryly as she surveys my dicing skills.

Marleni’s team has been spoiling us with incredible meals three times a day, working out of tiny makeshift kitchens in tents or at the back of basic huts, so we’re humbled to realize through first-hand experience the level of care that goes into each dish prepared in such cramped conditions.