Seeing Rainbow at 17,000 ft Above Sea Level

My personal experience

All pictures are my own unless otherwise noted/sourced; do not use without permission.

At 2:00 a.m., our alarms jolted us awake. Groggy but determined, we got up and readied ourselves for the long day ahead. By 3 a.m., we were picked up, winding our way through pitch-black roads that jostled us with every bump, the darkness stretching endlessly outside. Around 4 a.m., we finally pulled over at a small roadside restaurant for breakfast. Nothing about the meal was remarkable, but the steaming coca tea more than made up for it, an energizing tradition we drank generously to brace ourselves for the high-altitude journey ahead.

After breakfast, we were whisked away into the mountains. The ride was relentlessly bumpy, each jolt reminding us of the rugged terrain outside. What made it truly terrifying, however, was the narrow, one-way dirt road hugging the mountainside, with sheer cliffs dropping away on one side. And yet, our shuttle barreled forward as if chasing the sunrise, at what felt like 60 mph. We clutched our seats, silently praying we wouldn’t tumble over the edge.

Around 5 a.m., the shuttle finally pulled up in what seemed like the middle of nowhere—an empty stretch of land, quiet and cold. We were among the first groups to arrive. The cold hit me like a knife; it felt well below freezing. We hiked uphill for a few minutes toward a cluster of small shops set up by the locals. They wore vibrant traditional clothing and simple sandals; some men layered in light jackets against the chill. Their skin was deeply tanned from years under the relentless sun, with no hint of sunblock, and their feet were rough and calloused from walking miles every day on rugged terrain without proper shoes.

Right at the trailhead stood a small row of toilets, maybe three or four stalls. We decided it was a good idea to use them before the hike. A few soles exchanged hands with a woman in vibrant traditional dress, who sat at the entrance collecting the fees. Along with access to the stall, we were handed a few sheets of toilet paper and a tiny, thin slip of paper that looked more like a receipt than anything else.

I held my breath and stepped into the stall, only to find a hole in the ground with a toilet seat perched over it. My stomach immediately rebelled, and I started dry heaving. The hole was… well, a mix of every imaginable unpleasantness. I pulled out the extra toilet paper Cliff had thoughtfully packed, wiped down the seat, and even fashioned a little paper barrier, but it was no use. After a few tense minutes, I gave up, tossed the paper into the hole, and bolted out. Once outside, I gasped for fresh air, desperately needing a reset. I told Cliff there was no way I could use it, it was just too filthy, and my shy bladder certainly wasn’t helping!

We pressed on, the trail lined with locals whose horses and mules stood ready for business as tourists trickled in. When we told our guide we wanted horses, I was paired with a big, spirited horse whose owner (let’s call him Carlos) was in a hurry (I didn’t understand why at first). I tried signaling that I wanted to wait for Cliff, but Carlos had other plans: he’d go, stop, wait a little… and I’d always end up ahead. The horse struggled to keep up with his brisk pace and would break into a jog. Every time it happened, I clutched the saddle for dear life, letting out soft, panicked screams. Carlos would glance back and ease the pace ever so slightly. To make matters worse, we were walking right along the edge of a steep mountainside. I tried to channel my inner adventurer, but the truth is… I’m really more of a chicken than a daredevil.

The ride to the base of the mountain climb took at least 30 minutes, maybe longer. Along the way, we passed other hikers, stopped at a couple of bathroom points, and a water station for the horses. When the last bathroom stop appeared, I urgently pointed and said, “Baños, por favor.” Carlos steered me off the horse and helped me down. Relief, finally! Well, except I realized I didn’t have any money. Glancing back at the trail, I saw Cliff was still a ways behind, so I had no choice but to wait for him to arrive and cover the cost of my “toilet release.” Haha, because, of course, he was holding our soles.

Finally, the knight in dull, dark armor arrived on his brown horse, aka Cliff. He knew I had no money and was waiting for my turn at the bathroom. He tossed a coin towards me, but it fell short and landed on the ground. I grabbed it, and handed it over to the bathroom lady.

I went to one of the stalls and asked the lady to flush it out. She grabbed a pail of water, poured it down the hole, and voila! The stall was already an improvement over the first bathroom. I went in, followed my usual routine, and finally released my coca-fueled bladder in peace.

When I emerged, Cliff was waiting patiently. He’d already taken care of the cost of the horses too! Sweet! The horses each cost 60 soles (about $18) one way, and now we were finally ready to tackle the climb.

We looked around—and simply, WOW. Mountains stretched in every direction, layered with a kaleidoscope of colors that truly justified the name Rainbow Mountain. The striking hues, revealed only a few years ago as melting snow exposed the mineral-rich layers, made the landscape feel almost otherworldly. At 17,060 feet above sea level, the air was thin, making every breath a conscious effort.

We began our ascent, and it was brutal. The steep climb combined with the altitude made each step a challenge. I struggled to catch my breath, while Cliff was climbing that mountain like a locally bred and raised Peruvian.

At one point, it felt like I couldn’t draw in enough air no matter how hard I tried. Each breath seemed shallow, as if the thin mountain air was holding back oxygen from my lungs. But pausing every few steps and taking deep, steady breaths through my nose gradually helped me regain some strength.

We finally made it to the top, both of us intact, but altitude sickness is no joke. At the summit, locals in vibrant traditional clothing were ready for business, accompanied by herds of alpacas, whom were utterly adorable and impossible not to love. The alpaca owners offered tourists the chance to take photos with their animals, and we happily joined in. Unfortunately, we didn’t have small bills and felt a little guilty that we couldn’t give a tip, but spending time with those fluffy creatures was reward enough. Seriously, the alpacas might just be the cutest creatures on the planet!

At the summit, a local offered a Rainbow Mountain stamp for just one sol. Naturally, we both got our passports stamped, because, why not?

The views were breathtaking, not just at Rainbow Mountain, but along the entire hike. It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and we both felt grateful to have made it. We lingered at the summit for a while, soaking in the sweeping vistas of colorful mountains and adorable alpacas, letting the moment sink in.

If this is not true love, then I don't know what is! Look at those faces, aww!

When it was time to descend, the hike down proved just as challenging, though thankfully there was a rope to hold onto. As we made our way back, we saw crowds of hikers just arriving, many had started late, and the trail suddenly felt packed. We were so glad we’d come early. Around then, a headache started creeping in, a reminder that altitude sickness was still taking its toll as my oxygen-starved brain protested.

We watched many locals hustling their horses, rushing to the drop-off point and then sprinting back to the trailhead to pick up more customers. It was clear that the more trips they made, the more money they earned. For some, it almost seemed like a friendly competition. Watching this in action, I finally understood why Carlos had been in such a rush when taking me up the mountain.

Then we saw a female tourist who simply couldn’t continue and went completely limp, forcing the locals to carry her to a horse and transport her back to the trailhead. It was a stark reminder that altitude sickness is no joke. Before our trip, we’d done a lot of research and learned that many people who go straight from sea level to 17,000 feet end up seriously ill. I tried to be smart about it and planned our itinerary from lower to higher elevations, saving Rainbow Mountain, the highest point, for last.

We stopped for lunch at the same spot we had in the morning before heading back to town.

Overall, Rainbow Mountain is truly incredible, and the day we spent there was unforgettable.