It´s a small world: I found a place in Cuzco that offers Internet access by the hour and, well, here I am!
When we arrived on Sunday, the combination of trip fatigue and high altitude wiped us out. We could barely walk down the street without feeling light-headed and out of breath. The two-story climb to our hotel room was a major athletic feat!
On Monday we went white water rafting down the Urubamba river. It was windy, cold and rainy, but quite a unique experience. The rapids were level 3 (approaching level 4 in some places). To put things in perspective, level 5 is the highest that most people will raft, and
usually only professionals. Level 6 rapids mean that if you fall out of the raft, you die.
Anyway, we were eight tourists plus a guide on this raft, equipped with life jackets, helmets and our paddles. At first it didn´t look too difficult, but our opinion soon changed as we approached our first set of rapids. We bounced off of a rock and the two of us on the back
right-hand side of the raft flew out into the water. Our guide immediately grabbed the girl that fell in and pulled her back in but I started shooting downstream in the rapids.
Afraid that I would lose them, I pulled my glasses off and held them in one hand, my paddle in the other. Unfortunately, this meant that when the guide threw the safety rope out to me, I was not able to get a good grip on it and it slipped past me.
At this point, I have to admit I was a bit scared. The rapids kept pulling me under and I breathed in my fair share of H2O. I was having difficulty keeping my head out of the water (even with the life jacket) and, as I bounced from rock to rock, spinning around with the current, my greatest fear was of getting spontaneously castrated from a sharp, low-hanging boulder.
Mercifully, this did not happen, and the rapids eventually gave way to a more peaceful, gentle flow. The raft caught up with me and they pulled me in. I spent the rest of the trip in considerable coldness, with my feet painfully wedged under the tie-ins to prevent another reoccurance.
The number one casualty from this experience was my Advantix camera. It was in a plastic bag in my short pockets but water found its way insided and killed it. Damn. My passport, airplane tickets, travelers checks
and other valuable papers are still in a perpetually soggy state, despite numerous attempts on my part to dry them. Oh well.
On Tuesday we spent the day hiking around the ruins close to Cuzco. These were fairly nice and allowed us to test out our hiking gear in a more realistic setting. As far as I´m concerned, the highlight of my day came when I ran into a bus full of young Peruvian girls who all
insisted on having their picture taken with me. Heh, heh. As fate would have it, though, Chris was delayed in another section of the ruins and was not able to capture
the moment on video.
On Wednesday we went on a one-day mountain biking trip. We both got more than we bargained for! We expected to bus up to someplace nice and then spend the majority of the day going downhill. Alas! Although it was mostly downhill, we also suffered through some gargantuan uphills that left us gasping and wheezing for air. We biked through some incredible beautiful mountain countryside and small Peruvian pueblos (villages),
often chased by gangs of relentless, sharp-fanged and surprisingly fast dogs.
At one point my seat actually snapped off, and I was lucky not to experience the sudden castration I had so dreaded in the water. Our resourceful guide (Jose), fixed the problem and we were able to continue.
We biked to the ruins of Moray. These are essentially giant circular steps descending in a huge, crater-like depression in the landscape. Supposedly, these were built and used by the Incas to experiment with growing crops at different altitudes.
Later on, I got a flat tire. Normally, this wouldn´t have been a problem, as our guide had a spare tube handy and he replaced it in a matter of minutes. The problem was that his pump wouldn´t work, no matter how many times he took it apart or how hard we all tried to pump
it. I ended up having to walk my bike to the next pueblo to get it inflated.
For the grand finale, we descended down the side of a canyon. It was an incredibly hair-raising experience. The dirt paths were small and bumpy. More importantly, one small directional error could send you plummeting down the side of the mountain with absolutely no way to stop yourself until you reached the bottom. Quite exciting!
On Thursday we set out with a group to trek the famous Inca Trail, which terminates at the famous ruins of Machu Picchu. Our group consisted of ourselves, our guide, two French guys, two German guys, two Swiss
girls, a Canadian guy, a Swedish couple and an Italian couple. Funnily enough, everyone spoke French except Chris. Ha! He couldn´t believe his bad fortune.
The first day was easy and relatively uneventful, with everyone getting to know everyone and the French guys clearly establishing their position as the official entertainment for the group. The Italians distinguished
themselves by their total lack of athletic ability and they were forced to hire porters carry their packs for the rest of the trip. This didn´t improve their speed, as we often waited hours for them to catch up with us, but it gave them a higher chance of survival overall.
The second day was tough. By lunch time, we had hiked from an altitude of 3000 meters to the first pass at 4200 meters. This was not easy--especially the final ascent, which was steep and severely lacking in oxygen. I had to stop every ten steps to catch my breath, cursing the
altitude and mountains in general. At one point, I saw a girl from one of the other groups sprawled on the trail, totally wasted from the exertion.
The most enjoyable part of this climb was that when you reached the top, you got to see the suffering of others as they approached the pass. Heh, heh. I was sitting with the Canadian when he pointed at Chris and said ¨look, he´s wobbling!¨Indeed, Chris had the appearance of a rubber chicken as he climbed, his limbs loose and swaying. At one point, when he stopped to rest, I would have given him a 50/50 chance of falling backwards and rolling down the mountain. He didn´t, although when he
reached the summit he collapsed on his stomach (at which point the ever-entertaining French guy jumped on top of him and acted like he was riding a horse!)
After lunch, we got our first taste of going down a mountain. Basically, it sucks. It´s hard on the legs and requires way too much concentration. After all, tripping and flying forward down stone steps with a huge backpack right on top of you is not a pleasant thought. And the constant jarring ends up being rather painful (both the heels of my feet are giant mega-blisters / bruises).
We camped in a valley at about 3600 meters. The shower facility used fresh water from the mountain stream, resulting in an unbelievably glacial experience. My only consolation as my body went into shock from
the cold was hearing the screams from the women´s showers!
Chris ended up getting sick that night and he spent a couple hours dealing both with vomiting and diarrhea. From what he told me, there wasn´t a drop of liquid left in him by the time he went to bed.
The next day, Chris was still fealing queasy so I carried his sleeping bag to lighten his load. We climbed up another pass at 4000 meters, went down again and then up to the third pass. After the experience of the second day, these were considerably easier.
From the third pass, we had to descend 900 meters to reach our camp. By the end of it, my knees were wobbling dangerously with every step, and I was reminded of that scene from Return of the Jedi where the Imperial walkers wobbled, fell down and exploded after tripping on some logs.
To make things worse, I took a wrong turn and ended up extending my trip by going to some other ruins. After swearing and cursing for a while I managed to find a way down these incredibly steep agricultural step and I was so pissed that I ended up jogging the path back to the camp (this really contributed to my foot blisters / bruises).
On the fourth day we had to wake up at 4:00AM to climb up to the Sun Gate and see the sunrise over Machu Picchu. As luck would have it, the Sun Gate ended up being the Mist Gate as what normally would have been
an incredible sunrise ended up being progressively brighter looking clouds. All was not lost, though, as the clouds eventually cleared to give us some spectacular views of the Machu Picchu ruins.
The ruins were simply incredible, marred only slightly by the arrival of fat-assed tourists that got there by bus instead of the trail. Should be illegal. There were some llamas there too, and my first impression is that they´re quite dorky looking animals (the buckteeth don´t help.)
Behind Machu Picchu is a small peak jutting out 300 meters above the ruins. It´s incredibly steep, but I found out there was a path to the top. I climbed it in 27 minutes (after the two Germans told me they did it in 28), and my heart nearly burst out of my chest. But the view was phenomenal.
Today we slept in and planned the second half of our vacation. There are many different options, and we hadn´t yet decided on which course to follow. We gave up on a 3-day trip deep into the virgin Amazon jungle
because it was simply too expensive. We also scratched off a 3-day rafting trip because, frankly, the level 5 rapids involved are a little too frightening.
What we are going to do are two trips. Tomorrow we take a bus to a mountain pass at 4600 meters and we will spend 3 days mountain biking down the other side of the mountain and into the Amazon jungle. This promises to be a lot of fun and we´ll get at least a little taste for
the Amazon.
After we get back, we´re planning to do a four day trek near the peak of Salcantay, with the highest pass at 4900 meters. This will allow us to see the mountains a little higher up, provide some good views (including
some glaciers), and a little more challenge. Then, back home...
OK, gotta go now.
See you soon,
Gabriel
