From the Galapagos we flew to Guayaquil. All I can remember was trying to get pizza and getting lasagne, and running from 3 rather scary girls who were animatedly arguing about who got the f**k me first... clearly Ecuadorian girls have little dignity and by the looks of it a growing collection of STIs.
We are currently in Cusco, south easten Peru, and it has taken us 54 coxis breaking, cramp inducing hours where my mind has wandered in enough circles to make me permanently dizzy. After seeing pale yellow liquid dripping from the walls and ceiling of the toliet on the first bus my bladder has now stretched to twice its normal capacity in a strong resolve to never enter the `shower of shite` cubicle.
En route to Cusco we stopped for 3 days in the Cordillera Blanca; a mountain range like the Alps but on steroids. The first day we took in the breath taking views whilst precariously balanced on two trembling horses. Unfortunately Seesaw (couldn`t remember his real name but it sounds something Peruvianily similar) was no Shadowfax but even so he still left me walking like I`d had a testicular taution. The next day we hired mountain bikes and at set of a 6 in the morning to take on Hurascuran, Peru`s highest mountain. In the snow you`re not supposed to wear shorts so naturally after 2 mintues I could have had a baby with an affinity for chewing, bite my fingers and not feel a thing. With my fingers in this state I had as much precision changing Kirst`s flat tire as a blind man pointing towards where his guide dog had run off to. Foolishly we sped past some cows, one of which kicked out and started running parallel to our bikes. Watching the lumbering cow and not the road unsurprisingly I hit a rock, twisted the handlebars and came to a sudden stop by embedding the crackshaft into my calf muscle. Life could have been worse, as was the case for Kirst, who swerved to miss me and toppled head long into the ground. Bummer! Apprently the cow was going to kill her so I guess we were lucky that she got away with ripped trousers, a bit of blood loss and the subsequent `one to tell the grandkids about` sized bruise. Biking the rest of the way it felt like we were inside a tumble drier and by the end I was shaken enough to be declared broken.
On a slightly less active day enforced by the cancellation of our planned ice climbing we caught some rays (ie. slight burnt ourselves) and tried to do some running. However, at 3500m its like taking a bottle of shaken coke and breathing in the pure CO2 given off from the bubbles and my lungs collapsed... as did I to the amusment of the traditonally dressed Peruvian women. Not really wanting to leave we caught the night bus to Cusco.
We booked ourselves onto a 3 day rafting expedtion on the Apurimac River; a 50km canyon section with the sun on our backs and condors catching the thermals above us. At times the rafting was like putting your head in a washing machine until you couldn`t breath and then being spun so fast you didn`t know up from down. The grade 4 and 5 rapids almost compared to the Mighty Zambezi and given the oars for some of the small rapids naturally we immediately smashed into the only rock, but the company of half of Isreal made the whole experience so relaxed. In the evening in complete serenity we lounged in hammocks, swam with the guides, drank and in an annual ritual to mother earth chewed the leaves that Columbians make into cocaine. Finally at the end of the trip we soared from the bridge swing and plummeted into the river from nearly 20 metres up that puts Devils Bridge to shame. BOOM!
Tomorrow we are starting a 4 day Inca jungle trek that finishes at the infamous Machu Picchu, before starting to make our way back to Lima and ultimately home.
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