Snow on the Rainbow Mountain: 5,200 Metres of Cold, Awe, and Unexpected Magic

I swear I went to the Rainbow Mountain with low expectations. I knew the photos we see online are heavily edited to boost colour saturation, so I had already toned down the vibrant hues one might wrongly expect from social media. But nothing prepared me for what I was actually about to find.

Known as Rainbow Mountain or Montaña de Siete Colores, Vinicunca is a famous landmark in the Andean region of Peru. It sits at a staggering altitude of 5,200 metres, located about 120 km southeast of Cusco… which explains why my pick-up time was 3 am. Yes, you heard me right: 3 am.

I had booked through a reputable company with stellar reviews. They offered the earliest pick-up, giving guests the chance to reach the summit before the crowds arrived. I can’t complain about punctuality – they picked me up on time – but this was definitely not the guided tour I had expected, for reasons I’ll explain as I tell the story.

It was bitterly cold. I knew it would be freezing, and I thought I was prepared. However, nobody warned me about actual snow. I’m fairly sure the guides knew in advance and could have messaged us the night before so we could prepare – but they didn’t. Weather changes drastically in the Andes; fellow hikers on my Salkantay trek had been there just days before under bright blue skies without a flake of snow in sight. Had I known, I would have worn at least two layers on my legs.

It was so cold that my camera battery died almost immediately. I didn’t even bother replacing it. The icy wind cut right through my clothes – even my neck gaiter felt like flimsy protection. The moment we started walking, the group scattered completely. At one point, I had no idea where the guides were, so I simply kept following the track ahead.

The views, however, were astounding. I love snowy landscapes – I just hadn’t anticipated one here. There was a striking contrast of sharpness and softness: rugged peaks jutting out from beneath smooth blankets of snow, with alpacas quietly grazing nearby. Most impressive of all were the local men and women running along the trails with horses, sometimes wearing nothing more than sandals. I didn’t know what amazed me more: their ability to run so gracefully at high altitude on uneven terrain, or their supernatural tolerance for sub-zero temperatures. I felt like a total weakling in comparison.

On the final stretch of the climb, I realised too late that I was stepping on slick ice. As usually happens to me, I slipped and fell hard on my side. My water bottle dislodged from my backpack and rolled down the hill with unstoppable momentum. I couldn’t even stand up because I kept sliding. It took one of those local women – half my height, but double my strength – to haul me up with a single arm. I quickly scrambled over to a snowy patch for traction and managed to recover my bottle after another hiker caught it on its way down.

Thankfully, there was a wooden handrail that I clung to for dear life as I hauled myself up the rest of the incline; without it, I would have slid right back to the base. After all that effort, I was convinced I wouldn’t see any colours at all – surely the mountain would be completely buried under snow. The hike was only about 5 kilometres, but it felt almost impossible.

It was the second time this year I found myself hiking unexpectedly in snow – the first had been on Mount Etna in Sicily, and now here at Vinicunca. Except here, the freeze was ten times worse. Yet, once I reached the summit, I realised I had actually gotten lucky. Only half the mountain was covered in snow, creating a rare and special contrast: crisp white snow set against vibrant, multi-coloured rock.

The guides failed to explain anything about the geological forces behind the colours, which disappointed me. Having studied Geology in school, I wasn’t just there for an Instagram photo. I am genuinely fascinated by earth sciences and love reading the history of the planet through layers of sediment. Here, that history spans millions of years. The colours aren’t merely a collection of minerals; they are largely the byproduct of weathering, oxidation, and erosion over time.

The red and pinkish layers stem from iron oxides and iron-rich sediments; the yellow comes from sulphur-bearing minerals; the green indicates chlorite and copper/iron compounds; the white consists of quartz and carbonate-rich materials; and the dark brown is older, weathered sedimentary rock.

Tectonic pressure over eons folded these layers vertically, so they no longer lay horizontally – a striking reminder of the colossal forces beneath our feet. My time in Peru was deeply tied to geology, whether I was admiring the precise masonry of the Incas or Mother Earth’s raw rock formations. I was constantly in awe.

And yet… it was so relentlessly cold. The chill penetrated all my layers, and all I wanted to do was leave the second I arrived. Everyone else seemed consumed with taking photos, photos, photos. I couldn’t even think; every gust of wind made my bones ache. I bought a hot chocolate from a local vendor to try to warm my hands while waiting for the group. It made me feel uncomfortable to see the llamas dressed up in sunglasses as photo props for tourists.

Afterward, we had a choice: visit the Red Valley for an extra fee. I was surprised when most of the group declined and headed straight back to the van – likely too exhausted or cold, and satisfied with having checked Rainbow Mountain off their list. But I wanted to see the Red Valley, even if the snow meant it wasn’t as deep red as usual.

THAT turned out to be the absolute highlight of the trip. It felt otherworldly, as though I had stepped through a portal onto another planet. If anything, the snow made it even more magical. The vibrant crimson against the brilliant white snow was nothing short of ethereal.

Once again, I explored this section on my own. No guide accompanied us; he simply waited behind. I ended up walking back to the van entirely by myself. With the bitter wind finally subsiding and knowing others were behind me, I took my time, taking photos of adorable alpacas living so peacefully in an environment where I was struggling just to stay warm. That is true tranquility: grazing, relaxing, and gazing out over the humbling peaks of the Andes.

By then, I was starving. I had been given a packed breakfast by my hotel, and even though I normally don’t eat pork, I ate the cheese and ham sandwich without a second thought. The sheer energy burned by my body trying to stay warm outweighed my usual aversion.

We stopped for lunch later, which was when my frustration with the guides hit a peak. Before I had even finished eating, they were already pressuring me to scan a QR code and leave an online review. I told them my internet wasn’t working and that I’d do it later. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough. When I went outside to sit in the sun, they approached me again with a paper survey and a pen. I filled it out, leaving honest feedback about the complete lack of guidance or educational insight throughout the trek.

Only on the drive back to Cusco – when my eyes were heavy, my stomach full, and my seat warm – did one of the guides finally start explaining the science behind the mountain’s colours. By then, I had taken out my contact lenses and was ready to sleep. I was utterly exhausted and only woke up as we entered the city.

I received two more text messages asking for 5-star reviews. Had I left one, it certainly wouldn’t have been 5 stars -more like a 3, which would have dragged down their rating. For their sake, I chose to say nothing at all online. The tour delivered the absolute basics, but lacked the care and expertise it promised.

This marks my final post about Peru. The next day, I’dI fly to Lima, then on to London via Miami. I still spent some hours in the morning doing some shopping and said goodbye to the city with a glass of wine and some really good ceviche.

What an extraordinary journey this has been. I fell hard for Peru – for the lessons it taught me, the way it expanded my world, and how it shattered my self-limiting beliefs. I will return one day. That is a promise.

Love,

Nic

P.S. Some links are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to book through them. This does not affect the price you pay and my suggestions are not sponsored. These were places where I stayed and genuiely recommend 🙂

Where I stayed in Cusco: Casa Montes San Blas. Book here