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The Rio Cotahuasi: Jewel of the Andes- A First Descent by Franz Helfenstein

The Story Begins...

In the summer of 1993, after kayaking Peru's Rio Colca, our trip doctor, Freddy Revilla, showed us a video segment of the Rio Cotahuasi (Ko-ta-wa-see); a steep, boulder-choked river plunging hundreds of feet to disappear below sheer walls. That one video segment caught our imagination like no other river ever had. The Rio Cotahuasi lay in a canyon 11,000 to 13,000 ft deep. It had never been descended by modern man; it was virtually unknown even in Peru. It dropped some 7,300 ft. in its 100 mile plunge to the Pacific Ocean with most of that in the first 20 miles. (maps) But, kayaking that canyon might be possible, it sure was exotic and would be highly challenging to say the least. Immediately we began plans for our return to Peru to attempt a first descent. What an incredible adventure awaited us...

Returning to Peru in the summer of 1994, the first thing I noticed as I deplaned in Lima was the reduced military presence. The next thing I noticed as I dragged my kayak (crammed with Snickers bars, Power Bars, Instant Oatmeal and such) through the airport was that every clock in the airport was a different time. Very Peruvian.

Now, a few days later, on our way to the Rio Cotahuasi, bouncing along at 15-25 mph and breaking down at regular intervals, it's easy to see why no one is in any kind of a hurry; we're on Peruvian time. Besides, it's a good chance to catch up on some sleep

We are crossing the Altiplano, at 14,000 ft. and if the Eskimos have a hundred words for snow then the Inca must have had a thousand words for desert. We are near the Atacama Desert, the driest place on the planet. Traveling across the Altiplano is like traveling across the moon with an atmosphere. No vegetation, none, zip, nada! There are regions here which have not seen rain in our lifetime.

Somehow we managed to cram 12 people, 7 plastic kayaks, 1 inflatable kayak, a Shredder (2 person cataraft) and all our gear in a diesel-belching rig (straight out of a Mad Max movie) that overheats every hour on the hour. It's a good thing that the Uni-mog (I call it 'The Beast') we rented from Antonio came complete with a requisite driver / mechanic, Juan.

Everything's gone well, though we're still missing some of the team: John Foss, Greg Moore and Fico Gallese who are traveling via Chile. I'd boated with John in the States and last year on Peru's Rio Colca. He's managed to arrange his University research to require near full-time kayaking in Chile. Like most of us, John lives for kayaking. Greg works as a kayak guide in Chile each winter and speaks excellent Spanish. I'd never met Fico before, but his reputation as a hairball rafter had drifted up to North America some time ago.

The rest of the team had met at El Lago in Arequipa with the Vellutinos: Duilio, Gian Marco, Annie and Antonio. Peruvians are incredibly hospitable and we feasted on ceviche (marinated seafood), chirimoyas (the closest thing to ice-cream that grows on a tree), chichamorra (fermented corn drink) and plenty of cervesa and pisco sours. I met the Vellutinos when I kayaked the Colca in '93. Gian Marco and Duilio were great fun and fearless boaters.

However, the lure of adventure tugged at us relentlessly, so we took off for the Cotahuasi, 3 team members short, leaving a message for John, Greg and Fico to take the bus and catch up. This would give us some extra time to scout a put-in.

On our second day we top out at 15,600 ft. All downhill from here! A full day above 14,000 ft., breathing diesel fumes and bouncing around in the back of 'The Beast' has finally gotten old. Your worst hangover would be downright pleasant compared to this. As the sun sets we stop to film a group of llamas being herded home with huge glaciated peaks as a backdrop. Off in the distance 20,000 ft Sabancaya erupts and instantly all the headaches are forgotten.