Yesterday we went to Cumbe Mayo. We elected to go via a private tour rather than a group tour—more expensive, but I think a way better experience in the end. We left at 7am sharp, just the two of us and our fantastic guide Antonio.
Antonio was an older man, a retired high school history and geography teacher who has worked for 30 years as a guide around Cajamarca. His passion for the place is infectious: he knows every square inch, every foot path, every petroglyph. He began picking up garbage along the trail the moment we set foot on it, and by the time we returned he had a plastic sack full of Inca Kola bottles and candy wrappers. He seemed genuinely sad and angry that people exist who would come to visit a place for reason of its beauty, then carelessly toss their water bottle aside while they admire the view.